Bleak meter: Neutral

Timeline: Anywhere after Season 9/Hunted, and technically after "Wild and Sweet" too, if that counts for anything.

Context: Tsippa's my OC, has cropped up in both of my other fics. She does healing herbs n stuff.

JustRandom: Thanks! I'm livin.
Wait, what what what? There's not going to be another season?
Waaaaaaait, what? I definitely wouldn't have guessed you weren't a native speaker. Ech, they always do say that the people who start by apologizing for their English always have the best English . . . Anyway, the baking chocolate joke was a stretch anyhow, I had a feeling it wasn't going to go very well. ^_^''
Faith says }:[
Wait, what? (This is becoming a catchphrase . . . ) Ground shrews are real? I thought I was making them up! I mean, for sure shrews are a thing, but I didn't know there were actually ground shrews. Well, either way, they were intended to be a First Realm species, so they can look however you want 'em to, I guess.
I'm thinking, something like their reaction when Ronin absconded with the Sword of Sanctuary?
Not without any sleep! But with a lot less sleep.
Glad to hear it! That's what I'm aiming for. The ninja trust and are willing to sacrifice for each other, the Hunters nope on both of those.
Jet Jack, raising hand: Question, what if we die doing the homework? :(
These aren't necessarily chronological! This could be earlier than previous one-shots. And Faith says okay, fine, sure, she has some feelings. Rage and frustration count as feelings, right?

There was an outbreak of the drips going around Dead's End. Nothing too devastating, better than water-cough at least, but it was still putting large swathes of the population under simultaneously.

Tsippa worked overtime as needed. Still needed the daily batch of Healing Plant; fewer people working nowadays, but no fewer workplace injuries, because many of the ones still on the job were working sick, dazed, and accident-prone. Still needed to feed and milk all of her spiders, and cook the antivenin from their venom before it went bad. Still the usual rounds with splints, bandages, and poultices, maybe a couple minor amputations. Now on top of all that she also had to be mixing up endless batches of spiced water, a stinging, minty-smelling potion that alleviated at least the worst symptoms of the drips, at least for a few hours. Mostly it worked by dint of scorching your entire oropharyngeal complex to the point that your nose could no longer run. You could also forget about producing any saliva for the next few hours, so better not be hungry beforehand.

There was a knocking on her door, early in the morning. She put down her stirrer and answered, knowing it would be someone with some health concern.

"Oh!" she said. "Morning, Chief. Is something wrong?"

"Not more than usual." Faith was a tad hoarse. "I just thought I'd check if you had any of the spiced water on hand just now."

"Ohhhh, you too?" said Tsippa. She had noticed immediately the fever sheen over Faith's eyes, and the voice only confirmed it. Faith waved her off though, smiling tiredly.

"I'm fine, not a bad case. But it wouldn't hurt to do a little better." She glanced past Tsippa's shoulder. "Only if you have any ready, though. If not I'll—"

"I'm almost finished with a batch," said Tsippa. "If you can spare a few minutes I should have some ready in no time."

"It's not so much a matter of time," said Faith, and glanced back to see if anyone was in sight. "Just—I'd rather it didn't get out."

Tsippa's eyes slid half-shut in a silent, "you really think you're fooling anyone?" Faith gave her an irritated smile.

"Not a word, thank you."

Shaking her head, Tsippa stepped back and waved her inside.

"You can wait in here then, Chief. I'll really only be a minute."

"Won't you catch—"

"Oh, it's only a miracle I haven't caught it already. It's all right."

Sighing, Faith slipped into the dim hut and sat down on a hamper of herbs. Tsippa hastened back to her simmering kettle of spiced water, stirring up the dried leaves threatening to stick to the bottom. Faith half-dozed as she waited, woozy with fever. She wouldn't have been imprudent enough to even look tired around most other Hunters, but Tsippa was one of the few with visitation privileges. She, Redskull, and Faith herself were the only three who were generally understood to be safe; a sick Hunter would let them into his or her house and wouldn't worry about feigning good health. Or about defending themselves, insofar as it wasn't instinctual: most sick Hunters regressed into survival mode and tried to claw your face off if you twitched unexpectedly.

"I do appreciate your keeping a good temper, at least," remarked Tsippa, carefully skimming off the upper layer of spice shavings from the kettle. "And I'm glad you agreed to wait. The rest will do you as much good as the spiced water."

Faith hummed noncommittally, not opening her eyes. She looked half-asleep. It was nice in here; quiet, except for the whispering of the simmering water, the air warm and thick with the minty scent of the searing spices. Tsippa yawned herself, shaking off another night of less sleep than she'd have liked.

"How is Pawel doing?" asked Faith, dragging her eyes open and making a desultory effort at conversation.

"He's all right, thank you," said Tsippa, a touch distantly.

"Are there any plans for the wedding?"

"No ma'am, not yet . . . "

"Don't call me ma'am, I'm not on duty," said Faith, waving her off. She gave Tsippa a tired smile. "Have you even had a chance to see him, these last few weeks?"

Tsippa hesitated, then gave her a sad smile back.

"Not as much as I'd have liked to. If I can be honest."

"I had a feeling." Faith sat back again, sighing. "You work too hard."

Tsippa shrugged, unable or unwilling to convincingly dismiss the claim.

"It's a living," she finally said. Faith pulled back one corner of her mouth, guessing at the degree of unhappiness it must take to make a Hunter even this forthcoming.

"Pawel understands," said Tsippa quietly. "He's willing to wait."

Faith looked away and didn't press, seeing that Tsippa was already biting her lip.

She hadn't exactly chosen to be the village healer; it had kind of just crept up on her. As a whelp some of the simple remedies that the nursery workers used just happened to stick in her head. Then during young-adult training one of her kinder sergeants had been well-versed in plants. She had picked up some bits and pieces of the realm's highly limited botany. Then a couple of times when other Hunters had been sick she just happened to know the herb that could help, so she developed a reputation for knowing healing herbs, even though she had no specific training in those at all.

But people started asking her, and then they got angry if she didn't know the answers, so she felt obliged to start learning herbs in earnest. That only compounded on itself, of course, and soon she was the de facto medic of the village. Not really the life she would have chosen, and she couldn't find an apprentice because nobody else wanted to commit themselves to this nonsense, but now that she had the knowledge she didn't really have a choice but to use it. You couldn't exactly go, "why yes, I know how to save you from dying of that spider bite, but I don't really feel like it," not if you wanted to live long.

She was good at her job, at least. And she found it at least better than hunting. That counted for something.

"Spiced water's ready, Chief," she said briskly, breaking the silence as she ladled out a small cup of the steaming liquid. "You may want to wait a little. You won't be able to tell if it's giving you heat burns or just regular spice burns."

Faith blew on the surface of the water perfunctorily, but barely waited before swigging it back. It took her hard, as it took everyone; Tsippa winced as she choked and hacked violently.

"Try not to breathe in . . . oh dear." She handed Faith a rag to sop at her new nosebleed. "You're fine, it'll stop burning in a minute. On the bright side, it does work better if it gets up your nose, we just usually avoid that part because, well . . . this."

Faith caught her breath and gave a dogged thumbs-up, still not in shape to speak.

"There you go. But just hold the rag over it a second longer, sweetie," said Tsippa, turning back to ladling the rest of the water. Then she remembered herself and gave Faith a sheepish glance. "Sorry, Chief. Force of habit."

Faith shook her head, waving.

"Thanks," she rasped, gingerly drawing away the rag.

"Not too many people in this village get thanked for giving someone a nosebleed," said Tsippa ruefully. "I know you have a long day, Chief. But don't overdo it, all right?"

"I'm not sure you're in position to say that," said Faith.

Tsippa shrugged, looking away.

"I'll rest when the drips settle down," she said.

"Liar." Faith sighed and cuffed her arm gently as she stood to leave. "If it's any kind of consolation, I've heard Pawel has the drips himself. You'll likely be seeing him soon that way, if nothing else."

"Oh joy." Tsippa laughed bleakly. "All due respect, Chief, but you and I find consolation in the strangest of places."

Prompt was "Illness."