(2024-02-07) Trying to Help

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Author:	Alli
Summary:	Wyriel comes across Florande in Darnassus and the two discuss family, recent events, and attempts to help people in the past and present.
Rating:	T for Teen

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some discussion of sadness, family problems and a bit of mental health issues

The Cenarion Enclave is moving back towards normalcy, but there are still signs of the recent turmoil. The broken branches and torn vines have been cleared and tidied up, due to the healing magic of the druids and to their more mundane cleaning work. The building Fandral Staghelm once used as his base of operations lies still empty - the man himself is likely still in Moonglade, together with those who stood by him until the end.

The green-haired elvish girl sitting on a nearby protruding tree root may be pointed vaguely in the direction of Staghelm's former base, but she's not really looking at the building itself. Her sole attention is focused on a palm-sized chunk of wood, which she is carefully shaping with a small knife. Chaotic forms have begun to emerge from the wood, but it's not yet clear what theme the art she's making today will illustrate.

Florande does look fairly clean, at least, and her hair is in less of a tangle than usual and her leather un-torn. She isn't crying now, but there's still some mild swelling around her eyes that would tell an attentive observer that she isn't that far out of it.

Wyriel approaches on bare feet, dressed in her usual green robe, with an emerald wyrmling curled around her shoulders like a scarf. Without waiting for an invitation, Wyriel plops down on the tree root, peering at Florande's work-in-progress. "What's that?"

Florande looks up in a flash of fear at the sudden arrival, her hand tightening on the little carving knife. When she sees who it is, she smiles, the tension flowing back out of her frame. She gestures at the block of wood with the knife and shrugs.

"It's… whatever it'll be," Florande says, carefully whittling another small shaving of wood from a whirl that's starting to look a bit like a miniature maelstrom. "I don't usually plan in specifics for these things. It's just… a feeling… and what shape it takes."

"Oops, I wasn't trying to sneak up on you. Sorry." Wyriel giggles. "That's… mysterious. But I suppose art is like that? It just… happens to people? I've never been very good at most forms of art."

Florande stares at the partially-carved wood like it might answer, but then says,"I think it depends on the type of art. My sister is an artist, too, but I think she plans things out carefully. She does paintings."

"Is your family very big?" Wyriel asks, her ears wiggling in curiosity. "I saw your… brother? In the Dream?"

"It is… bigger than I thought," Florande says with an uncertain smile, her own ears drooping slightly as she turns her attention fully to Wyriel. "I thought I was an only child, just me and my parents. But I found out last year I have a half-sister and a half-brother… and… other people I maybe think of as family now? But just the two by blood. My half-brother was in the Dream, but my half-sister was in the Nightmare."

"Ooooh." Wyriel smiles, but turns that into a sympathetic expression at the news about her half-sister. "Oh, dear. Are you the littlest?"

The dragon around Wyriel's neck gives off a chirping sort of sound. "Mathondra is the littlest too," Wyriel says, which might not be an exact translation.

Florande nods. "They're both centuries old." That's clearly a long time for Florande. "That's how I didn't know about them - they were already pretty old when I was born." She looks curiously at the dragon around Wyriel's neck. "How old is Mathondra?"

"I have no idea!" Wyriel admits. "Not very old. She was born in the Dream, of course. And that felt like not so long ago? I brought her out with me to see Azeroth!"

"Born in the Dream!" Florande's eyes widen. "When it was pretty, though, like at the end, right? Um, I don't mean she was born a few weeks ago, I mean before the Nightmare, right?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. Born in the Dream before the Nightmare. So was I, but I'm older than her!" Wyriel giggles. "I was communally raised, I don't know who my parents are. But it's really awful to have lost Eranikus. I used to pretend I was secretly a princess - I could be, maybe - but that game won't be fun any more."

Florande's whole form dips slightly, a full body expression of sadness. "It must have been awful for the Aspect, trapped and helpless and watching somebody she loved fighting so hard for her. Is that very common, not to know? I think Kirygosa said she was communally raised, but maybe that was a different thing."

Wyriel droops as well. "My poor Queen…" There's a beat. "Well, among us, it isn't too unusual. I don't know Kirygosa."

"I only met her once, in Crystalsong Forest. I don't really know a lot of dragons," Florande shrugs self-consciously. "I guess maybe it feels like having a very big family, for you? Are all the flight like your family?"

"Soooort of." Wyriel squints a little, searching for words. "But I don't know a lot of them very well. It's like having a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins, but we aren't all close."

"Hmm," Florande says, turning the wood absently in her hands. "It sounds nice, though. I was sort of… on my own until I found my teacher. Well, me and Rissa were, but she was new to the whole druid thing too. And a lot of the druids were not too happy about having to train up young women."

What faction was that again, who were not in favor of young women being druids? And isn't there an obvious person who might've been Florande's mentor prior to her meeting Caspis? These things remain unsaid for now, as Florande neatly steps right past them.

"I always thought that was silly," Wyriel says, starting to sway a little from side to side. Mathondra makes a noise that sounds a little like a low rumbling purr. "What makes young women any different from young men?"

"I don't think I really know many young men," Florande says, shifting up the root to lean against the trunk of a large tree. "Maybe Dane Atley is a young man? Or Mordecai Aspenwood? They're human though. And my brother is already old. But for what makes them different… I guess there's the same things that are different between a girl bear and a boy bear? But I don't see how that's important for druidism. I have never done any work for the Circle that needed me to use those kinds of parts."

Florande shrugs, looking over at Wyriel with a shy smile. "I guess if you listen to my fa… I…" the smile flickers out, and for a moment there's a look of confused hurt on her face, like someone who reached out to touch a cat and encountered a porcupine. Then she recovers, shaking her head, and says, "Yes, it is silly. I don't see how it makes a difference."

Wyriel cocks her head, studying Florande. "Is he in Moonglade with the others now? Your father?"

Florande pulls her knees up, locking her arms around them with wood and knife still in hand. "I guess. I didn't ask."

"Are you doing alright?" Wyriel leans closer and sniffs, as if this will somehow help her tell.

Florande smells mostly of tree bark and bear musk, with a faint hint of sweat, if that tells Wyriel anything.

"I'm… yeah. Keeping as busy as I can. My sister's okay now, I think. I thought I might make her a wood thing, but they don't come out pretty right now. My brother's taking care of his girlfriend. She was Nightmared too." Florande thinks for a moment, and adds, "I went to study wildkin with Lode and Caspis. They still want me around, even if I…" She shrugs, and continues, "And I've been helping my mom."

"I don't see why anyone wouldn't want you around. Even if youuuu… what?" Wyriel scritches under Mathondra's chin and begins to carefully unwind her wyrmling-scarf. Mathondra makes a low rumbling noise.

"I didn't know he was poisoning Malfurion Stormrage," Florande says in a small voice, hunching over a little more. "They just said, the Circle wanted to investigate morrowgrain. And they told Rissa and I to cultivate it, and I don't know how many others. She and I did a lot of little jobs for the Circle back then. Collecting dirt, or plants, or bits of animals. All over Azeroth. I didn't think… this time was for evil. But just because I didn't know doesn't mean I didn't hurt."

Wyriel scoops Mathondra into her lap and holds the wyrmling like a baby. "Oh, that! I didn't know about that either. But… well, it wasn't obvious that it was going to be for something bad, at least I don't think so."

"I was just trying to… to help the Circle," Florande mumbles, but the she forces herself to straighten a little."But we can trust Stormrage, right? My shan'do does."

"I think so! He did just help save the world." Wyriel shrugs. "Nobody makes entirely perfect decisions all their lives. But I think we can trust that he means well. I don't think following anybody completely blindly is a good habit to get into."

"Maybe not. But… there is a part of trust that is always blind, because that's what trust means. You can't see all parts of a person, but you have to decide what kind of person you think they are." Florande frowns. "I guess the 'not blindly' is not that first trust, but being willing to see, when there is something that breaks who you thought they were. Being willing to hear others who see those breaking things."

"Faith," Wyriel suggests. "I don't think you should feel bad about trying to help the Circle. Do you want to hold Mathondra? She's warm, sometimes that helps cheer people up."

Mathondra flicks her tail at the mention of her name.

"Oh, can I?" Florande asks, but she's already setting aside her knife and wood and reaching toward her.

"Absolutely!" Wyriel deposits the wyrmling in Florande's arms. "Mathondra, no biting!"

Mathondra sloooowly closes her jaw.

Florande giggles, entirely unbothered by the prospect of dragon bites. She's probably handled her fair share of bites before. She tries to urge Mathondra to snuggle closer.

Mathondra wraps around one of Florande's arms like she's a winged snake and Florande is a snake charmer.

"I'm hoping things will get better in the Dream now," Wyriel says with a sigh. "I'm not sure whether I should go back home to help or not. There seems to be so much conflict in Azeroth."

Florande smiles at the winding dragon, distracted from darkness for a moment.

Then she answers Wyriel. "There are so many things that need helping, it's hard to decide. I am working with Caspis in the Plaguelands now, trying to heal it. I am here to see my mother, who also needs help. I am trying to convince her to go back to the Sentinels, to find sisters there who will stand with her."

"What does she need help with…?"

"…sadness?" Florande sounds uncertain. "It reminds me of the tuskarr in Indu'le, like she sees a world darker than it is. Since the battle at Hyjal. Then there's been the nightmares, and father… but still she seems better than when I was younger."

Wyriel fidgets with her fingers. "I don't really know how to help sad people. They need more than water and soil and sunlight, and they're always different from each other. Maybe I could help in the Plaguelands? I haven't seen that place. It sounds very sad."

"I'm not an expert on helping sad people, either, but I try," Florande nods. "I try to be patient and to understand, and sometimes I think it does help… but the Plaguelands is maybe easier to see where to help. My shan'do is trying to help the plants grow. Some people are working with the soil, and he is bringing in other, healthy plants to be encouraging. The land is sad, but they think it might heal!"

"Oh!" Wyriel smiles. "I think maybe I could help with that!"

Mathondra starts making a low rumbling noise. Maybe she's purring.

Florande pets Mathondra gently and says, "I bet they would be happy to have more people helping. The more that helps, the healthier the Plaguelands might become. Maybe the humans that lived there once will come back."

Wyriel nod nods. "That sounds nice. Maybe I can do that! And when you come back to work there, we can spend time together." The actual Darnassian phrase she uses is very informal, more like 'hang out'.

"Yeah," Florande says, running a finger gently down Mathondra's back. "I would like that."

"Me too." Wyriel clasps her hands together, beaming. "It's nice to have a kaldorei friend."

Florande smiles down at the little dragon. "If you do decide to go back to the Dream, maybe I could come there sometime now, too. Like, with meditation. I think I'll remember how."

"Oh! I could give you a tour!" Wyriel tilts her head. "But it's a little risky, going back there, because time is different? And you seem like you're really involved in things on Azeroth right now, and you probably don't want to wake up in a century and find all your human friends have passed away of old age."

Florande's eyes widen. "A century… yeah, that would be hard. Maybe that can wait till they ask me to sleep. I don't really know how long we're supposed to do that, now that we're not immortal. The old people said sometimes it was thousands of years, but… surely Ysera would not ask that of us if it is our whole lives?"

Wyriel nod nod nods. "No, no, my Queen wouldn't. I don't know how long either? Everything seems to be changing, these days."

Florande nods, dipping her head to rest it next to Mathondra's. "And it keeps changing. The Life-Binder blessed Teldrassil. Maybe the others will too? I was born immortal, and now I am not, but who knows what I will be in a decade?"

Wyriel giggles. "It's true. Who knows! Florande, who healed the Plaguelands!" She makes a dramatic gesture as if revealing a big sign or announcement.

Florande laughs. "I think the others have a head start on me there. Caspis and Anareline and others, and the ones working on the blight in the soil. But I will help heal. And helping is always worth it."

"It is," Wyriel agrees. "There, you look happier now. Did Mathondra help? You can hold on to her for longer if you want, maybe she can help your mother too."

"Could I?" Florande looks delighted. "I bet mother would love to meet a little dragon."

"Yes, yes. She's old enough to go hunt for herself when she's hungry, so don't panic if she flies off, but she's also a little lazy and will totally beg for treats if you've got them. It's okay to feed her! She's a growing girl." Wyriel smiles brightly.

"Oh, what does she like to eat?" Florande asks, straightening up again and holding out her arms to be little-dragon climbing stands. "I'll give her all the treats."

Mathondra climbs onto Florande's other arm, walks up it, and then curls around her shoulders like a scarf, which seems to be her favored resting position.

"She likes bite-sized fish the best. The little little ones. One chomp!" Wyriel giggles.

"Ooh, and I'm really good at fishing," Florande says happily. "The tuskarr trained me up well. Don't worry, Mathrondra's going to be so well fed."

Mathondra purrs in satisfaction. She's living the good life.