Ms. Oxbrydl decides the poor elf needs a mother's care as well and decides to go from treating hir as just a protector and teacher of her son, to looking out for hir as well. Cooking meals, sometimes trying to get hir to wear a jacket as it gets cooler, fussing as she does for Kevin and her new goblin child, and even sometimes singing a lullaby at night trying to get hir to shut hir eyes and sleep for a while.
@internutter/challenge-03149-h240-motivation-inclination -- Anon Guest
[AN: Once again, Wraithvine's pronouns are ze/hir]
On the road between obscurity and destiny, Wraithvine found hirself confronted with a crocheted coat made of random odds and ends. Sometimes, it seemed like Ma Oxbrydl had more odd ends in her Knitting Bag of Holding than actual balls of yarn. "What is this?" ze asked, despite knowing exactly what it was.
It was putting a leash on a pup. It was feeding a stray. It was a token of ownership. This is mine, now, and no arguments.
"Gets cold on the road," said Ma Oxbrydl. "You might act above everything 'n' all, but even wizards gets cold." There was a mumbled, "And I don't see you eating nearly enough either..."
Oh dear. Ze was right. Ze was being adopted by a being a fraction of hir age. "Madam... I am millennia old. My mother perished of old age so long ago that it's ancient history. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself and I am functionally immortal. I haven't needed mothering for centuries. Millennia. Ages."
Ma Oxbrydl had hir in her inescapable glare. Kevin was shriveling in contact mortification nearby. "I see you, Mx Wizard. I see you not eating half your rations. I see you feeding poor little Venin from your pack."
"Venin needs to eat. I've..." This wasn't going to look good no matter what ze said. "I have starved before. It isn't pretty, but I can make it until the next big town."
Ma's scowl softened in the very parental expression that said, I know exactly what you're doing and I halfway approve, but it's still bloody stupid. "And what are we to do if trouble hits and you can't think because you're half starved?"
"It's not like we can hunt anything," Wraithvine gestured at the scoured landscape around them. The only apparent crop was rocks. "If I had mistletoe, I could make Goodberries[1], if I had gold powder, I could transmute the stones into bread... but I lack either."
"What sort of wizard are you, going out half-prepared?"
"I used all my ingredients keeping some of the more interesting creatures away from us," Wraithvine confessed. "I never knew your Kevin was such a trouble magnet."
Kevin said, "Mistletoe. You want mistletoe?" He started rummaging in his pouch. "You mean like... This kind?"
All three of them: Ma, Wraithvine, and Venin, glared at Kevin.
"When and how?" demanded Wraithvine.
"Oh. Uh. I remember someone saying how mistletoe was useful, but they never said why," Kevin the Gormless handed them over. "So I always made sure I had some."
"Other stuff in there?" risked Venin. "Gold powder? Orc toenails?"
"What would you use Orc toenails for?" wondered Ma.
Venin held up her slingshot. "Poison dart."
At least the food problem was solved.
[1] Just assume that Wraithvine's multiclassed into anything that could cast magic.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / marilyna]
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