☠ | Séamus Ó Faoláin

Battered and bruised by his initial arrival, the Irishman had yet to stray far from the Palm Glades camp.  He spent the first few hours among the clan offering him shelter by asking questions and listening, content to learn about his surroundings -- until he finally decided to wander into the woods.  In no shape to hunt yet, the faerie gathered a small amount of plants instead.

Known as the shadow prince among his people for a reason, Séamus began with some nightshade.  Carefully he began to grind the poisonous plant into a poultice and filled a small glass vial, humming a sea shanty as he worked.  "Heave a pawl, o heave away.  Way, hay, roll an' go."

And that's good, he mused, eyeing the vial thoughtfully.  It would be more than enough to lace a small knife with., which was part of the reason he enjoyed knowing his poisons in the first place.  I should wash my paws off.

~ ☼ Slowly, carefully, her legs carried her across the branch she found herself stood on, wings occasionally flexing, tails moving ever so slightly, all to keep her balance just perfect. Slit eyes gazed across the nearby trees, searching for any trace of brown, of those piles of sticks and twigs that contained her prize for the day. Maybe passing from branch to branch, occasionally gliding across the distance, wasn't the most efficient way to go about hunting for eggs, but it was hard to see them up here from the ground, plus, this was way more fun! Some would have argued it was much more dangerous too, but that really just meant that they sucked at climbing, at this point she had been doing this for long enough that it was no more dangerous than just waiting on the forest floor, and she could always just glide down anyways, no, she was just fine up here!

Judging the distance to her next branch, Onyx bunched herself up, preparing to make the jump, ears flicking and swiveling on her head as a voice reached her. It was a bit quiet, if her ears were a bit less sensitive, or if she was a bit farther out, she probably wouldn't have even noticed it. Twisting towards the source of the sound, the hybrid was quick to find the source, as close as it was it wasn't exactly hard, finding one of their new arrivals down on the forest floor. It was...the father, ahhh, what was his name again? Samus...Seamoose? Something like that, it was right on the tip of her tongue, but she was sure it would come to her eventually! It was a bit hard to see what he was doing from her vantage point, but it kind of looked like he was smashing something and putting it into a tiny jar. Whatever he was doing, the humming was nice, she had no idea what he was saying or singing, but it was still pretty great!

When his work was finally done, the hybrid hopped off of her branch, quietly gliding down to the ground a short distance away from the Irishman. "Nice singing! Say, watcha got there?" the discens questioned, trying to step around the cat to get a closer look at just what he had been working on. Whatever it was, it didn't smell that great, really bitter and kind of earthy...a plant of some kind maybe?

☠ | Séamus Ó Faoláin

The Irishman threw up a grin as Onyxpaw descended from the trees, recalling the curious discen from his arrival.  She did not appear to initially recognize the plant, which meant he ought to explain.  As mischievous as he could be, he did not want youth entertaining the idea that nightshade was the most safe plant to deal with.

"Thank you, Onyxpaw," he started warmly -- always happy to hear someone appreciate his singing.  He hardly considered himself a bard but he enjoyed holding a tune.  "This," he nodded as Bernadette ascended and spoke, "is nightshade.  Exactly.  Very dangerous."

"I like to have some ready, just in case.  Poison makes a blade twice as deadly." He was still a pirate, after all.  "O' course, I don't think I'll be needin it anytime soon." Life seemed relatively peaceful, for the time being; Séamus had yet to hear anything suggesting otherwise.