Winter had brought with it a cold that stymied the Ranger's desires to be too far from warmth. The forest had become barren, desolate, and almost devoid of any of his typical companions on his daily travels, leaving only a lonely copse. Beside Jon Henri, reading a book while the large man labored endlessly before his anvil, was soothing company to Hawk, more so than the incessant chatter of the forest when it was alive. Jon Henri was, as always, talking while he worked, holding conversation as the motions and effort he exerted fell into habitual rhythm."You take what is yours yet you question it." Jon Henri wound about the piece of metal he was hammering and threw a glance towards Hawk, who marked a place in the book he had spread in his lap. "Rightfully mine? Perhaps ba'ro'dahr but truly mine? No. They need more than I do. But then there is not much I would not swallow down for sake of.."

He had paid no mind to the creaking wheel of Ran's cart, nor had he even been alerted to the scent of lotus till he glanced up and away from Jon Henri and to the store's open front. "Good morning," Ran's voice was familiar and he stood to cross the workspace to the opening that led to the street. Warmth bludgeoned its way past his normal stoic facade as he dipped his torso forward in a polite bow. "I have brought lotus."

"Come." Hawk beckoned with a smooth gesture past the entrance. "It is much too cold to be outside. The forge suffices better than any hearth." He took a long step past the chilly entry-way and back into the permeating warmth generated by the fires in the forge. "Jon Henri, Ran has come. With lotus for your shop."

"Jon Henri, Ran has come. With lotus for your shop." The metronome ring of his hammer paused and he hung it back at the loop upon his belt. Grasped tight within pincers, the red hot metal he molded upon the anvil was placed into a nearby bucket of water. Needlessly he wiped his gloves upon the smock that hung over the front of his mammoth body. Removing the gloves, he stuffed them into a pouch at the hem of his smock. "Ran!" A ham sized hand waved in delight towards the much shorter, smaller, flower peddler."You have come! Come in! Come in!" His plodding footfalls seemed to shake the granite foundation of his shop as he walked to the entry way to usher Ran further inside. He pulled out a long bench that was ornately carved with various vines and leaves in such detail that it seemed the representation of the foliage upon it was alive. "Please sit. Would you like some tea? Do not be rude, ba'ro'dahr, go fetch Ran some tea."


"Have I interrupted something?" Jon Henri shook his head and looked at Hawk before he disappeared up the stairs in the back corner of the shop. "Not at all Ran. Hawk and I were just discussing some dreary business matters. Your company would be much more preferred than further discuss such...things."

Hawk had passed by the behemoth and made his way to the stairs at the back of his shop that led to the living quarters above.

""Your brother asked me some time ago for a delivery of flowers," he nodded his head and somehow, his smile widened. "He did? That was very kind of him. I hope it is his coin he is planning on giving you and not my own." He nodded his head and winked in jest to the much smaller woman.

"Tea would be lovely on such a cold day. How have you been? I do not think I've seen you in a bit."

Jon Henri moved back towards where he had just been hard at work to pull forward a tall metal stool that he sat upon, hunching forward and putting his chin upon his fist, resting his elbow upon his knee. "It has been quite some time Ran. I'm sorry I haven't been around. Sometimes I forget myself when my hammer starts swinging. It's almost like a trance."

"What were you making?"

Jon Henri brightened and his posture corrected itself. "Oh. I was making a display piece." He rose from his stool to pull the handle of the pincers and the unfinished steel blade from the bucket. "It is supposed to be a dagger. But I have a problem making daggers without envisioning someone else's hands but my own." The blacksmith looked down sheepish as the bar of metal was some bit longer than a proper dagger should be.

"And how of you Ran?" He placed the metal down upon a nearby bench. "How have you been? And how is it possible that you managed to get lotus to grow in this kind of weather?"

The scent of lotus filled his storefront, pleasing to his nose as he inhaled deeply and visibly. Along with the decorations Amthy put up to match the seasons, they would be a fine edition and welcomed sight. He plodded over to Ran's cart and looked down at the lotus.

"I usually try to envision Hawk's hands, they are so small. But this one I had intended more as a lady's dagger." The smile split his face open nearly, wrinkling his hairless chocolate brow. He nodded thoughtfully. "In this place, and only this place as I have experienced, you can find whatever it is you require with the proper amount of need and search." He gestured to some of the raiment upon the walls. "Speaking of, might you need anything? It grows dangerous by the day in the city. One such as yourself should have some protection." He shook a branch thick finger at the flower prophet to match the scolding tone he spoke with. "Consider it a gift, from a friend."

Decorations that still hung like strung glitter-stars captured Ran?s attention first and fore most while Jon spoke. The different flows of air from hot and cold rushed through them, making fire dance along them and glittering reflections in fox-fire eyes. Ran could not envision Jon?s brother, Hawk hanging them?but could easily picture Jon doing such a thing.

Triple-braid woven together settled its ends along the top of thigh as Ran bent to inspect the lotus too, just as Jon did.

?Everyone must seem very small to you,? she observed as she let one of her gloved hands idly brush against a white petal. There were several moments in between Jon?s suggestion of protecting herself and Hawk?s admonishment as he appeared where Ran did not say anything, nor did she look up. Yet, the scent of genmaicha tea drug the prophet away from whichever thoughts she had?darting a curious glance between the two men as they came in focus.

?One such as myself?? Nothing but curiosity in such a question and as for the display of weapons, Ran?s eyes slid far from them and did not stay. ?I?ve never been very good with metal,? apologetically offered toward Jon before her attentions were stolen by platter and tea. The prophet?s head tipped slightly.

?Did you like the tea so much as to buy some for yourself?? The thought pleased her; it was a very good tea. Blue suede covered hands left the lotus alone to splay toward the cup offered.

Ran's mouth pulled together from the sides momentarily, near puckering lips. She mulled over Hawk's pronunciation of the tea and the question he posed of her.

The other half of her mind drifted toward the last gift of metal from a friend, touched the subject once and then flitted to something else far safer. In the spaces between the ranger's words, tea cup as well as saucer chinked as she drank.

I have not seen you at the Inn as of recent, Ran.

Her tea cup rose, then lowered on the saucer just as eyes followed; meditative. The smell of oranges and cloves came and went in her memory.

"I'm not always very good with people," abrupt as well as blunt but terribly true. "Sometimes I need a few days to think on all that I have seen and witnessed. I work during the day in the kitchens, too. Doing dishes. Soon I will have enough coin for a room there. It is winter, after all." A string of half-finished sentences that some how all belonged together. As for the lotus, they hadn't wilted in the quick-fire change of temperature; from cold to heat. They seemed to carry the laughter of summer with them still, some how and the prophet never bothered to beg a price.

"And you? Do you still have thunder clouds and shadows, Hawk?"

A most excellent question poised by Hawk, which made the woman's mouth assume a neutral line that was not unpleasant; simply giving the two men watching the impression of thought. To further such an image, the saucer in which the tea cup lay was rested on an upturned palm held close to her middle whilst the other hand let its fingers curl about the handle. She did not lift it to drink.

"I do, and I do not,? eventually replied in calming alto. "Damien lets me use the trunk within his, and some times I leave the dried lotus that I do not sell there. Occasionally I sleep before the fire, but often I work at different places when I am not washing dishes in the kitchen at the inn--people let me sleep there in exchange." She did not seem disturbed nor ashamed to admit any of it. Why should she? An honest day's worth of work, for a bed to sleep in at night.

He might have thought her answer evasive; it was not meant to be at all. The dreamer's eyes focused between both men curiously as she came to some thought.

"As for shadows, I hope that you do not forget the sun when you are in them??

In the winter, some times owls would blow themselves in from a storm and settled themselves down on a large rafter, fluffing out feathers. Often, they swiveled their amazing necks so that wide, yellow eyes snap to any movement near them. There was something about the way the flower-prophet watched him study tea then fumble about his belt which may have reminded either men of said creature.

The spell was broken with a very slow, steady blink when the ranger offered the key clasped in fingers, offering. The cant of her head said that she listened to something, either her inner thoughts or the wind as she set her already nearly finished Gen mai cha aside. (Winter's cold still lingered.)

"That is a generous tip for little to no work." As with most women, Ran was also an expert in saying one thing, but meaning another. Though the words seemed like a comment, the trill of monotone finally arose in almost question, giving the impression the prophet subtly asked: Are you sure?.

Ran did not have issues with pride often, and she leaned forward to take the key. One did not look gift ranger-rooms in the ...offering.

"Thank you. As am I. It is warm," the barest ghost of what could have been a smile stretched the prophet's mouth. Ran's other free hand began buttoning her coat. While warm was good and all, it would not get her to work in time should she forget. It was terribly easy for Ran to lose track of time and place.

The collection of lines and edges that made Ran's features remained a mirror fogged with dreams; that far away look some dreamers had when one foot remained in the door of yesterday and the other dangled over tomorrow.

Make no mistake, she had heard all that he had said. Whether or not they registered or she understood fully was another matter.

"You've already paid for the lotus," her alto rarely wavered from steady neutral. It was not all a cold sound, but a distant one. She was able to portray warmth in the midst of unwavering tones. She arose from the bench once her jacket was buttoned up and she had unloaded the lotus from the wicker cart. Something had impressed upon the flower woman, but what it might be was not evident nor on the surface of her mind.

"Thank you for the tea, and for liking it. Thank you for the room. I will do my best to earn it. Stop by some time on one of my breaks, you or Henri, and I will make you other kinds of teas I think you might like." Odd good-bye from the prophet, but the girl turned woman was never one to care about normalcy and the appearances of. Her mouth made a motion which reminisced about smiles.

"Ja ne," murmured quietly, blue gloved hand waved as the woman turned to go.