Repose

[She's out the next day with her sprayer again, but the plants have changed. Which she sees and notices and is even more upset about, but unfortunately she gets too close too fast. And she knows it immediately.

In future days, she'll never quite remember how she got back to the woods. And especially not to her cottage. She's seen too much over the years, and some of it starts to come back, twisted and warped. She knows it'll fade - eventually - if she just holds on.

The last three people (the only three people) she contacted on the forum all get the same message:]

STAAY AWY FRIM THEM

[From there, she tries to brew tea, something to clear away hallucinations, but she drops everything on the floor, throws the kettle across the kitchen (at something crawling out of the shadows). With the spores in her lungs and on her skin, she gets herself into the shower and lets it pour over her and her clothes, hoping that the frigid water will help wash it all away.

It doesn't.]

[The package isn't delivered in any sort of normal way. No courier. No mailman come with a wee box, no. It was delivered by the store's raven Scéal, who came gleefully rap-tap-tapping at his window. The package itself is not large, slightly smaller than a paper towel tube, wrapped in white paper with a single piece of gold ribbon tied at each end and looped in the center for easy carrying. Inside is a small roller ball phial, filled with a slightly yellow tinged liquid; on it the label reads migraine cure, and in her own even handwriting is written: Apply topically to temples. A green sachet contains two packets of willow bark tea, already in American style tea bags, with a quick handwritten note: Steep for five minutes. Drink hot. The third item is a small tube filled with golden, viscous liquid - the promised honey, just enough to sweeten two cups of tea if used indulgently. Finally, and tucked against the side of the roll is a purple and gilt-gold business card for Chrysalis.]

[Someone is in a very bad mood and refuses to acknowledge why.]

I need candles.

Day five of the headache from hell.

This can stop at any point.

If anyone needs me, inform the dog.

I don't go to church for a couplea months and it goes to straight to hell.

[By the light of Tuesday's full moon, she does a walk-around of town as the sun sets (mostly unnoticed - those who see her soon forget her), basket handle tucked in the crook of her elbow. It's not her largest basket, but neither is it her smallest.

Her first stop is the cemetery, where she places:
-Snowdrops tied together with a sprig of rosemary at the entrance gate
-A bundle of asphodelus laid between the graves of a once-married couple (one fresh, one older)
-Another couple, on their shared headstone by their two fairly recent graves, a curl of ivy

Tucked in the handle of the door to the trailer behind the Protestant church, a bundle of thornapple flowers. By morning, they are wilted, with the edges starting to blacken badly and rot. The flower shop has no such gift, but there's a lingering scent of them around the door that lasts all day. There's no remaining trace of who may have left them, not even for people good at figuring out that sort of thing, like they appeared out of nowhere. The flowers and the scents keep their own secrets - for now.

The shelves of her things at the town's metaphysical shop are restocked: teas, lotions, sachets. She comes and goes from the back door (outside of business hours), which opens for her without need of a key. Set to the side in the back room, she leaves a different selection of herbs, teas, and one spidery puff of witch-hazel laid on top. She takes in return the small jar of honey waiting there for her. No note is needed.

An unbleached muslin bag is left hooked on the handle of Eddie's caravan office at the circus. For all their usual mischief, the clowns don't even think about touching it. Inside:
-an unwilting (for now) bouquet with a note: Odin's grace. Happy Wednesday.
-a dark, airtight jar of loose-leaf tea. It smells like spearmint and anise and green things. Another note: For hot afternoons: 3 spoons into a large jar, fill with clean water, let on your window ledge the morning before - full-day+ brew. Strain and pour over ice. Best plain but 1 spoon of raw sugar/jar in with the tea before brewing if you're appeasing an extra-sweet tooth. No more or you'll ruin it.

Once her basket is empty (other than the honey), she stops at the grocery store to pick up a few necessities before walking home again.]

[Go here for plant meanings.]