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harasaka times

[ardencies]

[Harasaka offers more than just flowers arranged to appeal to one’s aesthetic sensibilities. Though there are blossoms bright and downright strange, smiling shamelessly at the overhead sun, vendors have set up stalls with rows upon rows of plants used for more utilitarian means.

Herbs, strange plants with roots claiming to heal most ailments if boiled and brewed properly. Leaves finely ground into dust, ointments created from the juices of thick leaves, sold in small little bottles with brown corks securing their insides. Dettlaff can scent little squares like these, crowded with shops, from a far distance — and his curiosity always brings him sulking a little closer, not unlike a wary cat who is always guided by his curiosity.

Eventually, he finds himself in front of a stall, next to a stranger (that’s you, Kaeya) browsing about, making conversation, perhaps, with the owner. And a moment of surreality overcomes him, in which the thought comes unbidden: he can only imagine what Regis would have to say about a place like this. How he would not stop gabbing on about the properties of this, asking about the workings of that; gathering up purchases by the fistfuls, likely without any practical thought regarding how to arrange them in an organized manner on the return trip. He remembers, in great detail, a small moment in time which Dettlaff had inquired about one of his many floral or herbal interests, and Regis had told him—

That? That’s Feverfew, and all told it’s particularly effective if—]

Brewed as a tea. [He says, quite suddenly, whether or not the stranger had asked to know. It doesn’t matter; if you were looking at what is basically wild chamomile, then you’re getting this random tidbit of info.]

Reduces swelling. Should that be a problem of yours.

[Dryly, with questionable helpfulness. It was certainly never a problem of his.]