Sticks and stones may break my bones…

Really, she should have anticipated this issue. Shoes would have been a good idea. Or a quick tailoring job to allow her wings out of the back of her cloak. She had been loath to butcher her cloak for a singular journey, though, and shoes had been the furthest thing from her mind as she had set off. When one very rarely touched the forest floor, covering your feet was unnecessary, and a little stupid – it was very easy for them to fall off and get lost in the foliage if they weren’t tied on properly, so Tempest rarely bothered any more. Plus, any cuts or scrapes she suffered were easily enough dealt with, though she knew her way well enough around the forest that she rarely injured herself. Unfortunately, though, her talents didn’t extend to protecting herself from the cold.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears as she picked her way across the frozen ground. ”You really need to stop and think before you act. You’re far too impulsive, Tempest.” The words were true, yet Tempest still couldn’t help but roll her eyes – the exact reaction she’d had to the admonishment the first time. As well as the words being absolutely no use to her for either advice or comfort, Tempest also recognized the same trait in her mother, where her mother appeared to be oblivious to their similarities. She huffed under her breath, starting slightly when the air before her became visible. She had forgotten that it did that in colder places, and her first instinct had been to flinch away from what she had assumed was a cloud of magic. Despite the fact that she was alone, Tempest found her cheeks heating slightly with embarrassment, and she shook her head. ”Do at least try to pull yourself together…” She muttered, stooping to inspect a group of flowers.

A cursory inspection told her that it wasn’t yarrow, and a quick sniff of the petals confirmed it. Just a particularly hardy clump of common daisies. At first she snubbed the idea of collecting them – daisies grew rampant in the forest; enough so that the younger fae would braid them into headbands and bracelets, and she didn’t feel even the slightest bit angry about the use of her medicinal plants. Anyone touched anything else from her garden, though, and there would be hell to pay. She only took two steps away from them, though, before turning back with a shrug. She hadn’t actually brought any daisy with her, and it could come in handy for a multitude of things.

And so it was that Tempest found herself rather too focused on correctly dissembling the flowers and storing them correctly in her pack when a beast came stomping up behind her. Stooping over her pack as she rearranged the boxes, pouches and vials, Tempest didn’t notice the noise, but she did notice when the large beast (or was that beasts?) blocked her sunlight. Though they didn’t stay there long, Tempest’s eyes shot up to glare at the offender. She would have spoken, most likely a rebuke and a not-so-thinly veiled threat, but he beat her to it. His silky voice was a juxtaposition from his smug expression, and Tempest immediately took offense to him. His words only served to make it worse. Her eyebrows rose further and further up her forehead as if they were trying to meet her hairline the more he spoke, but Tempest was prepared for when he finally fell silent.

Adopting a wholly unnatural smile, Tempest cocked her head to one side to contemplate the man. ”You seem to be under a few delusions, sir. Allow me to correct them.” She paused to hoist her bag back onto her shoulder to free up her hands, then began to tick fingers off as she explained. ”One, I’m not half-frozen, merely a little chilly. Two, I’m really not all that small – you’re just absurdly tall. Three, this is neither nowhere, or the middle of it – this is the edge of the Dryhtwood Forest – are you lost, or just confused?” She allowed herself a little smirk at this as she paused to catch her breath. ”Four, it could not be further from your business what I am doing out here. And finally, five… What in the world makes you think that I need help? Have you considered the possibility that I could be the help?” Her posture and her one tapping foot telegraphed the fact that she expected answers to all of her questions. And fast.

… But words can never hurt me.

Sticks and stones may break my bones…

Though she was concentrating on getting her point – or points – across, she could still see the smile widening on his face. Confusing. Was he mad? Hm, probably. In Tempest’s opinion, most humans suffered from some sort of mental weakness – addiction, anxiety, stress, depression; it all boiled down to the opinion that she had held for years. In some ways, it was almost more like a theory – she did actually have some records to back up her claim, but perhaps the other races just had better coping mechanisms. Who could really say? All she knew was that the ratio of humans to any other species that came to her complaining of these things was completely off the scale. Judging by this particular human, she could see why…

Tempest couldn’t help but be relieved when the man (he was certainly no gentleman – the arrogance was rolling off him in waves) managed to stay his horse. She hadn’t had much opportunity to be near the beasts, but she knew enough to be wary of their hooves. Plus, it was positively huge! At his response, Tempest almost retorted ‘no, I shan’t’. She refrained only out of a potent mixture of boredom and curiosity. What could he possibly have to say against her (albeit self-professed) excellent arguments? Instead of replying, she simply raised her eyebrows, fixing her eyes on his with an unforgiving glare. The look said ‘I can’t wait to hear this’.

His first point was incorrect, and Tempest snorted her disbelief. ”That’s where you’re wrong, actually. The easiest way to catch a cold is to share bodily fluids with someone that already has a cold.” She informed him, her expression almost haughty, but most definitely self-important. The explanation had been taken almost word for word from one of her father’s books, but nobody else needed to know that. All that mattered was that she was right, and he was wrong. Obviously.

His second point wasn’t much better, but Tempest was momentarily pulled off-course by a particular part of what he had said. He had thought that she was human?! Though she wasn't particularly against any species, she was still proud of her own heritage, and the implication rankled. Tempest's face filled with scorn as she shook her head, her curls bouncing to reveal tiny glimpses of slightly pointed ears. Though she was loath to remove her cloak, she did so, her wings immediately fluttering in an attempt to take off, glad to be free of the confines of the thick fabric. ”As you can probably now tell, I am not human, and glad of it.” Rolling her eyes, she turned her back for only a second or two to retrieve her cloak and fasten it back around her shoulders. Even the short spell of being without it had allowed the cold to seep into her clothes and skin, and she attempted to suppress a shiver, unwilling to show any weakness to this infuriating man.

Tempest simply tutted and rolled her eyes at his third response – insulting another's intelligence was surely just a sign that one had nothing better to counter with, therefore she had surely won that point. But just to be sure, Tempest decided to argue with him anyway. Shrugging one shoulder, she pretended to think, then shook her head. ”The books that I have been concerning myself with for a number of years have far more specific directions. How on Oedir would telling someone that something grew 'in the middle of nowhere' be useful?” She offered a laugh as if she couldn't imagine anything more ridiculous. There were a few things that were more ridiculous, but not many.

She couldn't help but glare at him. Just because it was the truth didn't mean that he needed to point it out. Not that she cared. She was far too busy for friends, and stupid pastimes that didn't achieve anything. Her brow furrowed as she answered him. ”I fail to see how that is any of your business either. Perhaps you should keep your nose out of other people's business before something happens to it...” Though her tone wasn't threatening, the words could be construed as such. However, she had never said that she would be the one doing anything to it.... If he really was so inquisitive, it was very likely that he'd offend someone else that didn't have quite so much patience.... Not that she herself had very much to offer. However, even conversation with a possibly mad human was better than conversing with oneself, no?

”I believe that you asked why I was so far from any help, implying that I would require it.” Tempest pointed out, reciting his words back to him almost verbatim. A surprised peal of laughter burst from her lips, though, at his next words. He couldn't have been further from the truth! It took the young fae a few moments to gather herself, but when she did, she offered her explanation with an undercurrent of humour still in her words. ”I regret to inform you that my herbalist skills are rather far from secretive.” She tucked a stray curl behind her ear as she quirked an eyebrow at the man. ”I am Head Healer, so many people are aware of my talents. Which is how I am of 'any possible help to anyone'. Does that answer all of your questions, or do you have more?” She asked, her expression expectant and perhaps a little curious. Most people did not argue with her or question her, and the change was, if not wholly welcome, then at least a little entertaining.

… But words can never hurt me.

Sticks and stones may break my bones…

Though Tempest felt a flicker of admiration at how easily the man dismounted, she didn’t let the emotion show in her expression. Instead, she glowered all the more at him. What did he think he was doing? Surely he wasn’t thinking of actually stopping to talk to her?! It was one thing when the animal could have spirited him off at any moment, and quite another when he had his own feet planted solidly on the cold ground. Though she couldn’t say she had wanted to talk to him in the first instance, she certainly didn’t want to now. Tempest was rarely intimidated, and the feeling, though it took her a few moments to decipher, was decidedly unnerving. She didn’t like it, and she didn’t approve of being made to feel that way. So she crossed her arms over her chest, her movements mostly masked by her cloak, as she adjusted her gaze to follow him. Until he proved to be a safe companion, it was likely that he would spend most of the time he decided to spend here under Tempest’s constant scrutiny.

Close up, he looked older than he had first appeared. Perhaps his complete inability to have an adult conversation had altered her opinion (saying nothing, of course, about the fact that she had taken part in that same conversation). It wasn't so much his physical appearance, but more his bearing. And his eyes – when she looked into them she could see something that implied, if not wisdom, then at the very least experience. Was it possible that he wasn't human? He had said nothing to correct her, and while it wasn't usual for other people to do so, she held a firm belief that this man would make it his first priority to do so whenever he could. He held no mark of being anything other than human, but Tempest had heard tales of humans that had lived long past their allotted times, all but unmarked by the years that passed them by. But there were more pressing matters at hand than how old this man was – right now, it was all about how infuriating he was. And yet, she couldn't help but prolong the encounter by answering him.

She frowned at the questions as if she didn't quite understand them. ”Of course I'm sure.” She looked slightly offended by the accusation, then looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. ”I made it up, obviously.” As the words came out of her mouth, even Tempest was surprised at the level of sarcasm that they contained. Perhaps it wasn't the best tool to employ when this man seemed to take everything she said literally, but sometimes the volcano just erupted – she couldn't help it any more than a blind man couldn't see.

Sighing at his next words, Tempest shook her head. ”If I hated humans, I wouldn't treat them.” She pointed out, though that wasn't strictly true. She would endeavour to treat anyone that required it, whatever species they were, but her dedication may have faltered a little depending on the specific person – if those not given her full attention happened to be human, that was simply a coincidence... Or they tended to irk her more than others. ”And more humans come to the infirmary than any others.” Tempest paused for a beat while she considered this piece of information. ”They really are an inordinately clumsy race.” If not exactly a scientific fact, it was at least accurate to the best of her own knowledge. Her lack of creativity had always been something of a bugbear to Tempest's mother, but having never known to be any other way, Tempest simply shrugged the comment off. The idea that her wings were stitched on appalled her, though, and it showed both in her face and as her wings fluttered in their own form of indignation, raising her slightly off the ground. ”Who would do something like that?!” She asked, disgust and outrage tempering her tone as she attempted to land again. The respite from the cold wasn't quite enough incentive for the amount of effort it took to become airborne with her wings half trapped.

Tempest started as she turned back around to realise that her companion was a long stride closer than where he had begun, but she planted her feet, unwilling to show him that he had invaded what she considered to be her personal space. As she listened to him reel off his questions, it suddenly occurred to her. Who was he and why did he want to know all of these things? Though she was typically suspicious by nature, this man had caught her off-guard, and she had already given him rather more information than many people knew about her. Even more wary now, Tempest raised her eyebrows and laughed. ”Perhaps I do, or perhaps I enjoy lounging in the trees with a lovely book about unicorns and rainbows – what does it matter?” Though it appeared to be a throwaway question, Tempest was probing back in her own way. Was there a reason he had just 'happened' to cross her? ”Do you do anything but ride around finding people to frustrate?”

Her eyes narrowed again, focusing on the discussed appendage. Under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear, no doubt, Tempest muttered. ”Hm. I have a few different items that could change that...” Despite her words, she wasn't really threatening anything. Not yet anyway. Although she appeared to be irritated and unamused, it was actually a nice change of pace to not have people sputter and turn red at the first utterance of something that wasn't 100% pleasant. ”Perhaps you were right after all...” Tempest mused, seeming to concede the point for a few seconds as she tapped her chin. ”I could certainly use some help escaping from this delightful exchange. I am rather busy, you see.”

Tempest's eyes automatically rolled at the emphasis he put on her title. She hadn't asked for it, and it hadn't just been handed to her, but because she was the daughter of the previous Head Healer, the tone wasn't entirely new to her. The condescension rankled, but she had already learned in a few moments to take this man's words with rather more than just a pinch of salt. Answering his questions in order, Tempest had to let out a laugh first. He was oddly close to the mark. ”As a matter of fact, they are. But they won't be by the end of their training.” There may have been one or two that she trusted to collect certain herbs, but not these. They grew too far afield, and were too easy to mistake. ”Friends are for people with free time.” She waved yet another 'friendless' comment away, ignoring the familiar sting. At the last, Tempest tutted and physically shooed the idea away like an errant fly. ”Coddling never did anyone any favours.” She could think of one particular example, but wisely kept her mouth shut.

For a few seconds, Tempest was stunned by the 'offer', then she let out a harsh bark of laughter. ”Even if I required any such relaxation, that's the last place I'd look for it – especially considering it was recommended by you!” Who knew what kind of filthy people frequented brothels?! The very idea was repulsive, and set her skin crawling. She rubbed her arms to rid them of the feeling, shuddering. Then her piercing eyes fixed his again, and she shot her parting comment through cold lips before attempting to walk past him to get back to her foraging. ”Why don't you find one of your own oh so many friends that you must have and visit the brothel yourself? Perhaps it will keep you away from me for a while.” Tempest was warring a little with herself. Did she want him to leave, or did she want to stay and hone her tongue? It did feel a little dull, she admitted to herself.

… But words can never hurt me.

Sticks and stones may break my bones…

Tempest was starting to realise that it was all but pointless trying to speak to this man the same way she did anyone else. He didn't take offense to things as everyone else she had encountered did, and he never – or at least so far hadn't – offered a predictable response. It was both infuriating and fascinating, but her irritation was winning out, as it so often did. At his overly dramatic response, Tempest simply sighed and rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to continue his charade – she had better things to do, and time was pressing on.

”What you know about fae medicine could likely be written on a daisy petal.” Tempest's tone was contemptuous and dismissive as she waved his comment away. She refused to be insulted by the type of person that stopped their own errands to harass strangers. She couldn't help but clarify her position, though. ”The only being in Oedir that I would ever consider purposely mistreating is you.” Perhaps that wasn't quite true – she was almost sure that her pride would prevent her from doing anything too horrible to him. Tempest had too much to lose to purposely misdiagnose or mistreat patients, and she respected her occupation too much for those accidents to happen too frequently. She spent too much time researching and testing treatments for her to then throw that knowledge away. Her bedside manner could be improved, that was true, but she had yet to meet a Healer since her father that treated more effectively than she did. That, however, may not stop her from harming somebody and letting them suffer a while before treating them. One specific person, that was. She shook her head in wonder at his question. ”I am quite busy enough without having patients return! Why would I want them to come back?!”

Though the very idea rankled and sent shivers through Tempest's whole body, his words held a note of truth that struck a chord with her. Her father had hinted of histories too horrid to speak aloud, things that had happened that didn't appear in the annals kept from the War. Terrible things that twisted mages and Healers had agreed to. Surely they wouldn't have stooped to this? Surely it would take more than a few pieces of gold to get a fairy to part with their wings? This was to have been their next subject of study before her father passed, and Tempest found herself staring at the man. Had he come upon her by chance, or was this encounter more than it seemed to be? Inside her cloak, Tempest clutched her small dagger, and a dart treated with a strong sedative. It never hurt to be prepared.

Despite her sudden concern, Tempest glared her disgust at the man, though it would change nothing. How dare he find it funny?! Very little rendered her speechless, but this man seemed to find it almost easy. Again, his words caused Tempest to roll her eyes. At this rate, she was likely to know more about the underside of the canopy leaves than she was about the plants she had journeyed all the way out here to find. ”I do not 'miss' vagaries and uselessly undescriptive phrases.” She told him, her expression telling him that she thought he was most strange for even thinking that she might. ”They have no place in my texts, or in my life.” Perhaps there was a certain element of creativity in her job, but Tempest preferred to call it 'problem solving'. A shame, then, that nothing she did seemed to be able to rid her of her current problem. ”If you have any sense at all, there is no need for creativity in Healing.” Tempest argued.

The small fae huffed at his response, but didn't labour the point. She simply prayed that whichever mode of transport he chose to use, he would employ one of them to find someone else to bother, and fairly soon. Surely with his short attention span, he'd get bored arguing the same points around and round in circles and find himself some better prey.

There was no point in reiterating her claim that she didn't need any help, so Tempest uncharacteristically kept her mouth shut, even as she rolled her eyes yet again at his vain attempt to, she assumed, frighten her. Her inability to allow anyone else to have the last word was indeed something of a compulsion, but it seemed that she wasn't the only one that seemed to suffer from it. To prove a point, even a false one, Tempest stayed silent as she brushed powder-soft snow from some emerging buds. With a small triumphant smile, Tempest brought out the small dagger and neatly trimmed off the largest buds and leaves. She would leave the smaller sprouts to mature for perhaps a month before she returned to harvest them. As she dropped the buds into one vial, she glanced around as if to pinpoint their position. Everything, as usual, was white and green and grey, but she was confident that she could find her way back again. The leaves were pressed carefully between two blank pages of a notebook to begin drying out, and she slipped the booklet back into her pocket as she looked up from her crouched position. ”Because I'm good at it.” The comment, converse to almost everything else she had said, held no note of arrogance. She was confident in her abilities – there was nothing wrong with that. She was simply offering a statement of fact, instead of bragging.”You have no idea what I can do.” Her tone was derisive, indicating that he never would.

Though there was no need for her to explain herself, Tempest found herself doing so anyway. ”Despite them being party to Gods only know what, I fear that I won't be taking up very many of your recommendations. We may as well start as we mean to go on, hm?” Tempest didn't care at all if the man was genuinely offended or not, but his expression indicated the latter. She got the impression that it would take a lot to offend him, but she was more than happy to keep trying. ”I'd much rather you didn't attempt to introduce me to anyone that has touched any part of your person, if you don't mind.” Her gaze quickly flickered over his form, but she found herself standing and turning - ostensibly to find more plants, but in reality to hide her flushed cheeks from him. Gods, it really had been too long if she was reacting like that to him. Perhaps she was suffering some kind of temporary insanity from the cold. Surely her brain wasn't functioning normally.

As she knelt to brush off more leaves – disappointed to find daisies yet again – Tempest shook her head. ”On the contrary.” Sometimes, it astounded her just how ridiculous some people could be. ”If I was flying or on that giant beast, I would miss all of the flowers covered in snow.” She glanced over at the horse, shaking her head again. ”And its hooves would likely crush everything that I am trying to collect.” She attempted to give them both a withering look as she moved onto another clump of green. ”Don't you have somewhere else to be?”

… But words can never hurt me.

Sticks and stones may break my bones…

Good Gods, did he ever stop speaking?! He had commented earlier on her ego, but his appeared to be on a whole other level! Tempest still doubted that he knew anything about Fae medicine, but she huffed a laugh at his comment anyway. As well as it being a laugh of disbelief, it was quite amusing to imagine an ant trying to wield a quill.

Tempest raised her eyebrows at the question, an inkling of surprise in her eyes as she replied. ”My patients don't argue with me. They know better.” Really, it was only logical. ”If they argue, we are wasting time when I could be finding out the necessary information to treat them.” Tempest offered this information with a tone of confusion – surely this was apparent to everyone? ”That, and lying to me are the only things that delay treatment.” Then Tempest saw the sly look on his face that seemed to indicate him saying something derogatory, and she attempted to head him off. ”And that's not to say that I mistreat on purpose – I can only treat effectively if they tell me the truth.” That wasn't wholly true – she could tell the difference between certain types of wounds and sicknesses of course, but the more she knew, the more effective a medicine she could prescribe.

Tempest frowned at Khaal's reasoning. Though she wasn't the wealthiest being by any means, Tempest had never wanted for anything, and material possessions meant little to her. ”Now you are just being insulting and rude.” She bit off each word as if she was berating a particularly difficult child. Which, in a way, she thought he was. Well, the particularly difficult part anyway. She managed to half-suppress a sneer at his suggestion. ”They're not quite so green that they'd cause someone to suffer unduly.” Really, the first thing she had taught them to do was, if they were unsure of anything, to check with her before treatment. Plus, she checked every single patient record at the end of the day. Not that she didn't trust them, she did... Kind of.

He began listing off names, and her eyes flickered to his face for a moment before she carried on her search. So he did know something of fae healing, even if it was just a list of names. A tiny flicker of surprise was quickly snuffed out. Just because he knew a couple of names didn't mean that he knew anything else on the subject, despite the fact that one or two were relatively obscure. She wasn't going to admit to being even the tiny bit impressed, so she let out a single 'ha' of laughter as he released a fourth name. Flint Earmist was a fae healer from around two thousand years ago – so he didn't know all as much as he claimed after all. ”I sincerely doubt that you ever met Flint Earmist.” Tempest stated, her tone dry and disbelieving. ”Unless of course you happen to be over two thousand years old.” She started to laugh, but then she remembered something her father had said many years ago, about some beings seeming to exist without time making a mark on them. Her humour disappeared quickly as she looked at him again. Surely not. But even as she tried to convince herself that it wasn't true, there was a question in her eyes all the same.

Not sure how to deal with that particular topic, Tempest instead brushed past it. ”And if a fae can nearly drink you under the table, perhaps that says more about your tolerance than his.” Though she didn't know what Flint Earmist had looked like, she could only assume that the man had been much smaller than the one that stood beside her now. In fact, it was fairly likely that she herself was larger than Flint Earmist had been. She wondered, briefly, just how she'd fare in a drinking competition against her unwanted companion, but quickly rid herself of the notion. Aside from her own possibly low tolerance for the stuff, she wasn't sure that she wanted to be in his presence any more than strictly necessary.

Again, his words made her frown, and she rounded on him, her tone snipped and cool as her eyes flashed. ”I am not your dear, nor am I a butterfly.” She proved this by walking to yet another clump of plants, this time far enough to almost be out of his earshot, if he had not followed her. As she examined the petals, she muttered to herself. ”Damn fool man. Can't expect anyone to be sane in his presence.” He must have followed her, or else he was rather louder than she had assumed, as he continued talking to her as if nothing was amiss. Rather than answering, which would cause her to concede the point either way, Tempest simply rolled her eyes as she sorted the petals and leaves into neat piles to be put away. Again, she muttered rather than answering him directly. ”Well, I'm ecstatic you think so.” Even under her breath the sarcasm was clear.

Tempest's eye twitched as she fought back the urge to fly into his face and let loose a barrage of insults and threats. They would do no good here – he was far too calm, and she refused to let him know that she was quite as angry as she was. She took a deep breath as she took stock and tried to remind herself that there was absolutely no reason that she should care what this man thought of her.

She had readied a reply about infirmaries being cleaned far more regularly and thoroughly than brothels – or at least, she assumed so – but his suggestion wiped it from her mind and almost caused her jaw to drop. How could he think that she would want to do that, even in a medical capacity?! She made a vow to herself then and there that she would never see this man in a state of undress. She told herself that she had absolutely no desire to experience that, but a tiny part of her wasn't quite conforming to her instructions. It took a few seconds, but Tempest shook her head to clear it of her incredulity and snapped an answer back at him. ”My infirmary is spotless, and I will thank you to keep your opinions and your body parts to yourself!” Though she glowered at him, she couldn't help but notice the tips of her ears were suspiciously warm. Thank heavens, then, that they were usually covered by her masses of curls.

Tempest shot him a suspicious look as he agreed. Now that was out of the ordinary, and she wasn't sure whether to take it at face value or be prepared for yet another jab. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he introduced himself. Further to his Flint Earmist revelation a few moments prior, his name did sound suitably old fashioned. Of course, there was no guarantee that it was his real name. Perhaps he did this a lot – entertaining himself by creating different backstories and lives and seeing just how believable they were to unsuspecting people. At the question, Tempest offered him a deadpan expression. ”Annoyed? Me? Never.” The sarcasm was laid thick, but she reasoned that it was only polite to offer her name – not that she was often polite. ”Tempest Meadowlark.” It was likely that even if he didn't recognise her name, he would know that the surname had also belonged to the previous Head Healer.

Tempest stood, dusting off her hands from the pollen as she sighed. ”Oh joy.”

… But words can never hurt me.

Sticks and stones may break my bones…

Tempest's eyebrows raised, absorbing his lack of surprise with an air of amusement. So it wasnt just her that had thought it. Either that, or not even a herd of unicorns cantering past would surprise the man. ”Given a few minutes in your company, I am confident that most healers would at the very least give you a sedative that you did not strictly require.” She defended her point dryly, rolling her eyes in the process. It wasn't that she'd necessarily make him suffer... But just in case, she'd keep that thought to herself. In the next few moments, that opinion could easily change, depending on how much he tried to provoke her. It was a shame, really, that she had never pushed to further her hobby of swordsmanship. Though she could wield one well enough, she was sure that his strength, reach and endurance would outmatch hers given the chance to compare them.

”It's a disgusting option, and my trainees would never do it.” Tempest threw the words back, stalwartly defending them even as a couple of faces presented themselves to her mind's eye. Not that she thought they would... She just wasn't sure yet how much she trusted them. They whispered in corners and behind their hands when they thought no-one was listening, and Tempest had purposely made sure they were both on a rest day before she had taken this journey. If there was anything untoward happening, she was going to be there when it came out. But still, having her staff insulted by this stranger was too far – only she was allowed to do that! Her arms crossed over her chest as she looked up at him. ”You don't know what I can do.” She still steadfastly believed this – just because he knew a couple of healers' names didn't give him any insight into how she worked or what her particular skills were.

Her eyes narrowed at his silence, aware that he was doing it to prove something, though she couldn't quite define what that was. Perhaps it was simply to make her feel awkward. That wouldn't at all surprise her. Something in his expression stopped her from looking away – stalled all motion in fact – and the more she looked, the more she believed him. As irritating as he was, he didn't always speak as people her age did, and based on looks, she should have been much older than him. His innate calmness also brought to mind someone that had had many years to cultivate that patience that Tempest had never quite been able to find, but even so, hearing the words come out of his mouth caused her eyes to widen, and she was shaking her head before she even knew she had moved. She stopped herself after a couple of the gestures, clamping her teeth against the word that wanted to come out. Impossible. She didn't want a lecture about not succumbing to hyperbole, or a lesson on just how it actually was possible, considering his existence. While she tried to swallow the word, Tempest tilted her head to one side, allowing a half-smile at his suggestion. She wondered what else he could remember about Flint Earmist – morbid curiosity, nothing more, for they were unlikely to have spoken about anything that could help her. Though she didn't quite mean to ask it, the question was better than everything else that she had managed to filter out. ”If you are over four thousand years old... Who else did you know?” Quite possibly the least offensive thing she had said to him yet.

Tempest literally growled in frustration at his mock concern. She didn't want or need it, and she didn't appreciate the insincerity. After taking a few breaths and a brisk walk around a tree to attempt to calm herself down, Tempest allowed herself to speak and was surprised when her tone appeared more or less even, if a little peeved. ”I am aware of what they are, I am just not entirely sure why you think that you are entitled to use them.” She paused for a second, and glanced pointedly at him, looked at their surroundings, and then back to him. ”And I would agree – my living does feel particularly harsh and cold at this moment in time.” She eyeballed him as if he was the sole cause for her not enjoying her trip. Honestly, she was getting used to the cold, and she wasn't having nearly as bad a time as she was making out – it was just different to get to be the contrary one for once.

Be damned if he didn't have a point. But he had another thing coming if he thought she was going to apologise. He was the one interrupting her day, messing up her plans by following her around for some unknown reason – unknown probably to both of them, Tempest suspected. Maybe he was bored, but that didn't give him the right to go around bothering people. ”I am sorry--” She wasn't. ”-- But exactly what standards is one supposed to hold a four thousand year old body to?” It wasn't as if they were actually common, after all. Not that she had known that when she said it, but that didn't matter to Tempest. Anything to deflect the conversation.

Not quite rude enough to turn her back, but not entirely inclined to return the gesture, Tempest settled for leaning against the nearest tree, laughing at his proclamation. ”Perhaps not quite, but almost wholly correct. Nine out of ten.” The trouble was, now she wasn't entirely sure just how much truth was in that. Certainly more than there would have been five minutes prior.

… But words can never hurt me.