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The evening was uncharacteristically warm for leafbare, which meant Reynardine was sitting by the window in the Shaman's quarters when she was supposed to be sorting the herbs she'd gathered. They were all hers now, with the disappearance of her mother, though she still regarded them as Charlotte's store of medicines and poisons.
It was also uncharacteristically quiet now, though her mother had never been much of a talker. Now Reynardine lived alone, slept alone, ate alone. It was a sudden and unwelcome change for her, and she'd found herself rather listless and withdrawn (more so than usual). Apparently this evening was to be different, though- she heard the sound of a cat approaching her quarters. With a quick glance over her inventory, the tall, willowy she-cat stood, her white fur illuminated in the tilt of the setting sun as she awaited her visitor. Her unique gaze- each eye half blue, half green- focused on the door.
His small form stepped into her space with nary a pause as his blue eyes did a quick sweep of the surroundings before landing on her. He considered her for only a moment before he glanced around again, he didn't pay much attention to the upper echelons of the league and had thought there would be two cats around. Giving a small shrug he dismissed the expectation and just chalked it down to him being mistaken.
"Hi!" he finally spoke when he felt done with his inspection. There was visibly nothing wrong with him, no limp, no pained grimaced, no cough, no drooping. He looks as bright and fluffy as ever as he graced Reynardine with a beautiful grin. "So, I was wondering, if there was a way for you to make me taller?" It was a foolish question even he knew that. But he also knew that these medical cats always seemed to be experimenting and pushing boundaries they would never speak about. Still he would have never asked if it hadn't been for his most recent run in with a feral city cat. They had mocked him! About his size of all things and he had yet to stop dwelling on it.
Reynardine blinked at him wordlessly, looking almost as ghostly as the rumors in the League painted her to be. This tom couldn’t be serious, could he? He seemed to be… and though she knew a lot about various members of Primal Instinct, she hadn’t paid enough attention to this tom to know his temperament; she’d have to find out for herself if he was misguided or merely stupid.
“That depends,” she answered evenly, deciding to play along for her own amusement. “Come, sit.” Rey gestured to a spot near her pile of herbs, and sat across from Ronan, her sleek tail tip twitching as she looked at him. “I need to assess your worthiness… make sure you’re not altering your height for purposes nefarious to the League. Why do you want to be taller… sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
He blinked at her and took a moment to approach her suddenly feeling weary. He was expecting a flat dismissal, not a test. "It's Ronan!" He chirped before hesitantly approaching her and taking a seat. "Can you really do something about my height? Because I was expecting a no; I'm not actually sure I want to be taller now that I'm faced with such a possibility."
He raised his head higher and tried to cease his fidgeting. "It was more an exercise on trying to chase the thought away, you know? Like how they say if you speak your worries they will bother you less." Ronan considered the possibility of gaining height and the more he thought on it the more he fretted. "Like, what if I look bad after getting taller! I've been told I'm pretty cute right now which works great."
He gasped and his eyes flew to hers. "What if I become handsome! Cats expect handsome toms to have things like responsibility and stuff!"
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ronan,” Reynardine said softly, fighting to keep the impassive look on her face. This tom was rather amusing. “I’m Reynardine, the new Shaman.” Her voice remained soft and wispy, her split colored gaze probing this small, fluffy tom.
Of course, she couldn’t do anything about his height. She could help him put on weight, or she could mix a toxin that would make him delusional enough to think he grew taller, but there was no herb to stretch his limbs longer. Usually, Reynardine would’ve dismissed him outright, but she was starting to recognize the importance of her image. The group had long chalked her up as an all-knowing, mystic presence. In reality, she just had a penchant for eavesdropping and a light tread.
Still, now she was supposed to be a spiritual guide as well as a healer. She had no qualms playing up her mysticism to fill this new role she had stepped into. Rey let the tom ramble for a moment, watching him. “You are handsome,” she said, in a detached, clinical diagnosis sort of way. “Longer legs wouldn’t change anything about that. Why does your height bother you in the first place? Does it get in the way of your duties?”
He preened like a peacock at her words, disregarding most of them and focusing on the compliment even if she said it with all the charm of a dying fish. The delight was quick to rush out of him though at her futher questions and he turned to blink at her, a pout over-taking his features and seemingly betrayed. "I can't believe you would ask me such personal questions, miss new Shaman!" His tone was teasing, trying to deflect.
Though he quickly realized there probably wasn't a point in doing so, he was already here after all. Besides, she seemed genuine enough though Ronan was truly horrible at reading others. Sometimes it was a wonder he hadn't suffered a mysterious accident in the league yet. He laid it all down to luck and his charm. Others might claim it was just too much of a hassle. "Some feral told me the other day they weren't scared of me because I was so small! They even asked where my mother was!" He exclaimed, still aghast, and truthfully he wasn't actually that small. "I of-course made him regret his words by knocking his teeth out, but still!"
He dramatics continued as he spoke again, "I can do my duties just fine! I'm amazing after all!"
"Ah, insecurity," Reynardine said with a quick nod, lifting a paw to shuffle a few of her dried leaves to the side. "I've never had much use for it myself. It seems to bog the mind down." She assessed the tom with a new gaze, noting the playful way in which he deflected, the over-the-top theatrics to his speech. He was the polar opposite to herself, with her deadpan tone and almost unassailable calm. The only area they shared any overlap was a bit of sarcasm.
Rey sat back, looking from her herbs to Ronan. "You don't need any more height to you, Ronan. You're not kit-sized, you're just smaller than average. There's no shame to how you're built- you're good-looking, you're high-spirited. There's plenty of positives to you. Don't let others get to you so easily- unfortunately, I don't have an herb for a thicker skin. I suggest the fine art of ignoring anyone who insults you."
He gaped at her mouth moving like a fish flopping about for air. "The audacity!" He cried jumping to his feet and lashing his tail. "I don't have a thin face!" Rather proving her point that he was indeed rather sensitive about his ego. "Reynardine, I thought we were building something special. I know we just met but I thought, ya know, that opposites attract and all that!" He started pacing working himself into a right tizzy.
"Not that I don't appreciate your kind encouragement!" he hastened to add, then felt foolish and clamped his jaws shut. His pacing coming to a stop and he turned to simply look at her. "It's easy for you to say things like that after all! Born into a position and all, though I wouldn't see the appeal of all the responsibility. Who wants to be in-charge of caring for sick cats and delivering kittens. Not that kittens aren't adorable but I've been assured by reliable sources the process is gross." His rambling came to a slow stop and he shuffled on his paws suddenly embarrassed.
Reynardine couldn't stop herself from laughing then- not derisively, but with a faint good humor. The sound echoed around the empty room, a richer tone than her light voice. "Calm down, Ronan," she said, standing and following his pacing with her gaze. "I wasn't born into any of this- the League, the position, the responsibility." It had been given to her through bloodright, but that was only after she'd joined the League and realized that her estranged mother was the third most powerful cat in the group.
"I don't mean to insult you. I'm just suggesting that you dismiss any criticism about your appearance. You're fine as you are. Wouldn't it be better to be aware of that instead of fretting over what a stranger said about you?"
"I look good I know that, and you're right some nobodies words don't mater but what if others think that too!" He beseeches. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up on her words and he peeks at her under his eyelids. "You weren't born into this? What does that mean?" He was not familiar with much that went on in Primal Instinct when he was younger. In fact Ronan often had a hard time recalling others names or what he had done a moon ago. Things that didn't directly involve him were quick to be forgotten.
He hoped to get them off the topic of his looks; it wasn't often he got heartfelt compliments where the other sounded like they meant it. Often they came after he boasted about himself and someone would mockingly agree with him. Which he would in turn then fluff up about and parade around like an achievement for days.
Reynardine smiled a small, patient smile as Ronan turned to her. It didn’t seem to matter if this strutting, sensitive tom thought of her as ghostly and omnipresent, so she let the last of the act drop. “It means exactly what it says. I was born outside of the League and without any real power. I joined when I was grown, found out my long lost mother was the Shaman, and was rather suddenly thrust into all of this.”
Her mind flickered back to what he’d said before. “I didn’t ask for the responsibility, but I don’t mind it. Just like I don’t mind the grosser parts of healing. It’s a fair trade off for the information I was given by Charlotte, and the knowledge of medicine and poison that I have now. The only downside is the increasing pressure to pop out a litter of kits.”
"Oh." Ronan gave her a small little smile, "sorry I had no idea. Which you probably find silly, so let me preface any judgement about that lack of knowledge by saying I've always avoided the Shaman. This is the exception to the rule I promise." The cream furred tom nodded to her words, and as soon as he finished speaking he was opening his mouth.
"Well I personally would hate the responsibility, though I do have to admit knowing how to poison things would be a thrill. Though I would be afraid I'd accidentally poison myself if I'm being honest." He laughed a little awkwardly and gave a half shrug. "And I would be more worried about popping out kits that need to be mage one day. Like, what if none of them have the talent for it or don't want to!"
With a little excited gasp he puffed up his chest, "I know you wouldn't have much of a choice, you'd have to pick someone. But you seem capable you could always just strong arm their father into helping you instead so the kits could enjoy their youth. Kittens are so cute when they're young after all, best preserve that as long as possible before they hit the terrible trainee age."
"No worries." Reynardine glanced out the window, towards the warm winter sunset. "I don't take offense with others not knowing about me. It's better to not visit the Shaman- likely it means you've been healthy. Plus there's always the risk of me mixing up my herbs with my poisons." She considered his words about children, nodding after a moment. "I suppose if it doesn't work out with the first litter, I could always have a second. I'm not too worried about them not being ready for the role- I certainly wasn't. It'd be nice to have some company around here. It's been too quiet lately."
His next words made her laugh, mostly at the imagery. "I hope I don't have to strong-arm anyone into it. Though I do need to hurry up, and with no romantic partners in sight... I suppose I'll have to approach a tom like a business deal. Is that too cold?" She asked this last question in earnest, her gaze turning to Ronan's face and reading his reaction.
He blinked at her and tilted his head, looking guileless as he thought over her words. "I suppose it works well for the intended purpose. Also surrounded by those we are I'm sure you wouldn't be the first and won't be the last to do such a thing." Ronan gave a simple shrug, "and you're pretty and the Shaman so I'm sure most toms would say yes on principle. Some might want kits of their own and be eager to tie themselves into the Shaman bloodline."
His eyes shifted sideways as he called her pretty, more accustomed to calling himself cute, pretty, handsome and rarely if never gifting such compliments to others. It distracted them from him after all. "What sort of tom would you be looking for?" He wondered if she was the type to go after smarts, looks, danger, he really only fit one of those. After the thought came he then wondered why he even let his head get big enough to think she would consider him.
At Ronan's compliment, a faint trickle of heat drifted down her spine, and she glanced away quickly before looking back. She didn't consider herself vain, or easy to flatter, but it was nice to hear a compliment every once in a while. "I suppose you're right. I guess it isn't so bad as long as I'm straightforward about it. My position does hold a lot of sway."
"That's... a good question." Reynardine stopped to think, really consider, the parameters she'd set for her choice. "I don't care about bloodline or position. I don't want a psychopath, so that eliminates half the toms in the League. I suppose... I suppose I'd look for someone who balanced out my own traits. Someone with passion, drive, who's slightly more impulsive. All things need balance, and I don't want to create a litter of kits that are just clones of myself."
"I suppose it brings into question the concept of nature versus nurture. A tom who balances out your traits would be good! because then while you teach them restraint and responsibility they can encourage wildness and shirking those responsibilities." He hadn't realized he was unconsciously assigning himself into the role of father. But at the mention of kits he could only keep picturing himself with little pudgy bodies tumbling around his toes.
He found himself already thinking of names and wondering if they would have their mothers eyes, her pure white coat or have his tabby markings. Of-course they would be beautiful regardless. He wondered, as she had said, what sort of personalities they would have and how they would grow. He shook his head and chased those silly little imaginations away. "I suppose the hardest part might just be approaching the tom to ask; I imagine that would be daunting."
Reynardine watched him closely, noting the affection with which he spoke about kits, filing that away as relevant information in her head. After a long moment she nodded, with a smile growing on her features. “It’s not too daunting for me. I never seemed to develop a sense of self-consciousness, so as soon as I’ve made up my mind I don’t think I’d have a problem approaching the tom.”
The sound of footsteps in the hall interrupted them, and a limping she-cat entered, mumbling something about twisting her ankle on a rock. “If that’s all you wanted, you’ll have to excuse me,” Reynardine said to Ronan, turning to her new patient. “I’ll see you around?”
(feel free to do a little time skip! i can also do it in my next post if that works better c:)
[ Skipping time to an undetermined amount later. ]
Ronan had made a point to wander by or near the Shamans den, often poking his head in to say hello but Reynardine was often busy and it left him rather at a loss on how to get a chance to have a conversation with her again. Then he considered that perhaps he was being to eager as not too much time had passed and he was sure with her new position she was busier than ever. He settled himself with being okay just giving a brief hello when he wandered by.
Except this time when he poked his head in it was quite, no mumbling of conversation or pained noises. Putting a paw over the threshold he scanned blue eyes around the area, reminiscent of his first visit before he decided that yes he had finally managed to drop by and find her alone. "Reynardine! Hello!" He beamed towards her, "there's finally no one to chase me off today!"
Reynardine was finishing the last of her meal when Ronan arrived. She pushed the remains aside with a quick sweep of her paw, standing to greet her visitor with a welcoming smile. "Lucky you," she remarked at his quip, rolling out her slender shoulders. "And lucky me, too. I've been swamped these last few days."
In between meetings with patients, she'd had little time to think. But she had had enough stolen moments of contemplation to think things through and decide what she wanted. It was lucky Ronan had decided to visit today, since she would've sought him out soon enough. "Come in, take a seat. Are you hungry? I have leftover freshkill that a trainee brought me."
"I already ate this morning." He assured her leaving out the slight detail he ate right before the sun rose. Prone to night time adventures that would either spell disaster or pay off he never quite knew when he began one. "Thank-you for the offer though." He was quick to add, remembering his manners around her.
He meandered over to her, "why do I need to sit? You don't have bad news do you?" Sitting down regardless he twined his tail around his paws and gifted her his full attention. "Or am I really able to get an audience from the great Miss Shaman today."
