[SE] Pickled, dried, salted, smoked

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Lena had figured out that last accord on her own, but gave a soft smile in return anyway. Being of the mer was a figment of fantastical things in and of itself – she could only recall seeing their images in textbooks amongst the Archives and Collegium as a child. “Pleased to meet you,” even in the circumstances were a bit bizarre.

Righting the remains of her basket, the Caretaker found no hesitation in prospering further explanation – used to it, perhaps, given the influx of Outlanders and Naturals alike who’d never been to the stony and traditional world of Stormbreak. Her smile broadened, no longer uncomfortable with any notions surrounding them; as if she were instantly at home and at peace despite any bizarre motions beforehand. “They are gardens that stretch around the city. Frey brings any injured or sick animals into enclosures amongst the flowers, and I tend to them. When they are healed and recuperated, they return to the wild.” She paused, pondering further, if she should be asking what he did for an occupation, because it would surely be interesting, or ceasing there altogether.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm