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[Solanaceae]

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Moonlight glimmered off the water, dancing silver and white over a still ribbon of deep blue. Solanaceae rest her head back against the thick trunk of the willow tree, staring skyward as gentle winds brushed her cheeks with feathery kisses. Spring. These were the moments of the season that brought with them a melancholy peace, recharging her spirit and tearing at her heart in one mixed jumble of memories.

It was moments like these when she knew her happiest times within the fae lands, the evenings she used to visit the Grove. Secret rendezvous and whispers of eternal devotion that were doomed to crumble to dust, part of Time’s cruel sense of humor. It was two decades and a week from today when she lost her sister to the sickness. The same evening she sought solace in her special grove only to find it had been burnt to the ground in an orc raid, her lover vanished without a word. The orcs had been chased from their homelands by the humans, and now the elven town that once held the druid guardians of the Grove was full of elf corpses and orc filth.

That had been the last her heart could take. It was that day Solanaceae changed, that day her drive to wipe clean the land of the human infestation became an obsession. The orcs never would have enter the Grove if their ancestral land hadn’t been lost to the human plaque, humans who never satisfied with what they have, always needed to take what belonged to others. She did not see the orc blameless in this, for their greed and will to claim what was never theirs was strong, and the self absorbed elves, who could’ve come to the aid of their brethren and the Grove, they too shouldered blame in Solanaceae’s mind. But the humans, they above all infected the land with their very presence. It was they, most of all, that drew her ire.

It felt like centuries since she began on this path, a path that had cut her off from her people, a path that day by day led her toward madness. She saw the affect traveling the Path of Oblivion had on her master, though she not had witnessed his madness as deeply as had some of the other members of the Order. She’d seen the destruction of the Herald’s home, the wedge the madness created between Dealthagar and his wife, she’d even heard whispers among the Order of things they’d seen and heard. Solanaceae often wondered why she’s never seen the madness in this way, was it just she spent less time with him then some of the others, until recently she was a day walker, unlike her…or had her own madness blinded her to his?

The sound of Hemlock’s meow drew Solanaceae’s attention. She stood. The cat called again, more insistently. Solanaceae moved to the edge of the roof, looking down in the direction the sound had come from. Her cat had arrived the day before, apparently displeased with the comings and goings of her mistress from the botany lab on Charnel Hill to here. Since her arrival, Hemlock had been exploring the abandoned house next to Solanaceae’s manor. Now the meows came from inside the run down building, but the cat herself was nowhere to be found.

Solanaceae sighed. She should probably go and get her. No telling what trouble Hemlock could get herself into. The cat had not even spoken to Solanaceae in days. It was time to make up with her familiar, make her comfortable in their new home. Solanaceae frowned. She would likely have to get all fishy smelling making the cat’s favorite dish if she was going to make up for her inattentiveness over the past few weeks. Calling on her newly found dark glamour,
Solanaceae shifted into the shadow pixie and flew down to the ground. The meows were quieter now and the scent of blood tinged the air with a coopery taste. Solanaceae shifted back to a large form and drew her blade. If someone hurt her cat there would be their blood on her blade before the night was through. She swore it.

Her drowish eyes adjusted to the limited light quickly, and after some searching Solanaceae discovered her cat in a corner of the lower level of the house, curled in a pile of tattered robes. Hemlock lay in the middle of the blood soaked the fabric, breathing heavily and looking up at her. For a moment Solanaceae was confused, and tiny squeaking mews and movement under the cat’s body made everything clear.

As the seriousness of the situation filled her forethoughts Solanaceae rummaged through the old house, searching for something to transport the cat and kitten safely in. How could she have been so stupid? She’d let herself get swept up in all that drow mess and completely forgotten about those that needed her most at home. No. The Matron and Shri had needed her too. The Patron… Drayden she corrected herself… maybe even he’d needed her. It was hard to tell. There just hadn’t been enough of Solanaceae to go around. And now…she’d missed this, missed life happening right in her home surrounded by death, missed it all.
Not anymore, she swore. She’d find a way to serve both side of her, find a way to be the Seer, the servant of Oblivion, and still honor herself as the gardener and caretaker. The Herald had often said it was her duality of nature that gave her the passion and power to do what she needed to, now she just had to seek out that balance.

Solanaceae found a large chest and began tossing things out of it. She paused as a familiar name caught her eye. It took some thought before the connection to the name brought her to the gypsy’s. Yes. That was the right name. Another name was written on items inside, one she didn’t know, but it seemed to her if one item was connected to her gypsy friends, the other might be as well. The thing seems inconsequential, likely of no real value monetarily, but who knew what deeper meaning they might have to the gypsy woman.

Solanaceae set the items aside with the rest of what the chest had contained, making a mental note to send word to the gypsy camp about what she’d found, and then turned back to the empty container. After lining the chest with her cloak and shirt, Solanaceae gently moved Hemlock aside. She gingerly placed each sightless kitten in the soft cloth, cooing comfortingly as she worked. There were three kittens in total, each with a mixture of green and black fur, unlike anything she’d even seen before. Interesting she thought. Their eyes were tightly shut, so no telling what effect her strange magic had on them entirely. The mother let herself be lowered into the box with her brood, a affectionate rub against Solanaceae a sign that all had been forgiven.

Once the new family was safely relocated into the manor house, Solanaceae returned for the rest of what had been left behind. Outside of the gypsy items, several books and letters caught her eye, as did a selection of old seeds she discovered in a broken cabinet. She’d never considered a condemned house as a interesting treasure trove for exploration, but perhaps there was some merit to such hobbies. Solanaceae returned home, possibilities churning like a tempest in her mind.