a loss of something Sweet

Every time left his little piece of isolated desert, he could feel discontent tapping under the conversations of those around him. Worries, fears, anger - something was not right. Something had been not right for a while, since he'd come to this populated place and lost everyone he'd ever known, but the whispers had gotten sharper, louder. Some weren't afraid to speak openly, though their eyes remained shifting as though they still understood that what they said wasn't good. Political turmoil - and Nigel had never needed a head for politics - hung heavy in the winter skies, breathing gusts that alternated between hot and cold and only achieved growing the storm. He had tried to stay out of it, away from it, afraid of what the voices he heard would add, but the fear was for naught: the fungi simply did not care about the lives of mere mortals. They would hunger, they would feed, and the world would turn, whether the people of Ivras lived on or not.

Nigel had been trying to visit Mead more often, to make friends and learn from them, to finally stop forcing himself to be lonely. But the air felt weird, and people seemed to no longer look at him straight on. Were they able to read the wrinkles crossing his still-young face, the worry and fear that people would realize he wasn't all right. No, no, no - he would be right, he would be fine, he had realized how to control this mental malaise. He just had to be stronger, focus more, and leave everyone behind. He couldn't give the magic an opportunity to break through his yet-feeble defenses, as he didn't know if he'd ever be able to recover, if he'd ever be able to find the self he wasn't sure he had.

And so he no longer left his little piece of isolated desert, and he'd taken down the sign that advertised his mead and honey stand. He didn't need the money if he wasn't going to be spending it with anyone.

It wasn't his fault when the witchfinder stumbled upon his homestead. Harriet and Fanny alerted Nigel that someone had come, stamping their feet in some kind of an attempt to scare them off. "Is there someone there?" they called, voice pleasant yet surprised, but he could hear them moving through the small apiary, and then a crackle reminiscent of the wild voice of fire.

Nigel went out and just looked for a moment. If asked later what the finder looked like, he'd be unable to answer - his looking was that someone had come, not at all taking in anything about them. He didn't even notice what the they were doing at first. "This is my home," he finally responded, voice dry with disuse. He'd spoken to himself, to his bees, to his hares, but speaking to another used so much more than just that voice.

"I was surprised to find anyone out here, but I heard the hives. There's a strange mage, expected to be dangerous, who is using bees to terrorize the nobility. 'Bee in her bonnet' - the mage claims it was just a joke, but that's almost definitely an excuse. We've been tasked to relocate all hives in this area that do not have the approval of the king so that we may capture her. The witchfinder went back to their task, their breath turning to tongues of flame that devoured the hives Nigel had spent so much time nurturing.

He stared in shock, green eyes wide in spite of the sun beating down. "You're not relocating - you're destroying. You're killing my hives. You're murdering my bees."

The finder shrugged, doing their best to look vaguely uncomfortable though not apologetic. "You're too far out for relocation to be viable. In fact, you're nearly far enough away to not need the destruction at all, and I doubt she'd ever be able to find you, but it's my job." They turned a brilliant smile in Nigel's direction, and Nigel couldn't tell why his heart was beating so. "You wouldn't want the Order to know you're standing in the way of my job, would you? I'd hate to do what they'd ask me to do to you."

"No, no, no," Nigel choked out, his head beginning to pound. "No, but I will do it. I will finish it myself, and you'll have nothing to do to me. I can do it. You can leave." A little control would go a long way.

The shoulders shrugged again. "Well then, go ahead. But I'm going to have to watch you, just to make sure you do as you've promised." And so they did.