[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/gqaAXfr.png[/img]
[b][sub][h2][color=#edefee]B[/color] [color=#dbdfdd]ᴜ[/color] [color=#c9cfcc]ᴏ[/color] [color=#b7bfbb]ʀ[/color] [color=#a6aea9]'[/color] [color=#949e98]K[/color] [color=#828e87]ᴜ[/color] [color=#707e76]ᴛ[/color]   [color=5E6E65]"ᘜᖇᗴᗴȠᔕ"[/color]   [color=#657268]O[/color] [color=#6b766c]'[/color] [color=#72796f]D[/color] [color=#797d73]ᴏ[/color] [color=#7f8176]ɴ[/color] [color=#86857a]ɴ[/color] [color=#8d887d]ᴇ[/color] [color=#938c81]ʟ[/color] [color=#9a9084]ʟ[/color][/h2][/sub][/b]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/wRZipvS.png[/img][/center]


Sleep seemed a burden in this town. Something that drifted on the winds of the plains; an allusory bedfellow of which they all chased. There were times when Buor’Kut believed the only ones in this place who slept properly were the ignorant, those who knew not the damnation that nipped at their heels, and the wicked, those who had already allowed the serpent of corruption to warm itself upon their hearts. That left the rest of them, the slightly less wicked and slightly less ignorant, grasping for the sandman while their sheets became twisted coils coated in sweat. It would be hard to know where he sat on the spectrum and the weighing of such things was not the monotonous wail that kept him from sleep. He had no internal monologue that begrudge people their pasts, but yet, after all these years, he was still unable to shake his own.

When he had finally drifted off to sleep it had been with the help of some tea Jacelyn kept in stock. The concoction would have likely found itself in a legal debate at to usage had the States caught up to her homeopathic endeavors, but surely no one in Job would question something as fickle as tea when they were so busy covering up their own scandals. It was one of the reasons he liked this place. It was one of the reasons he had actually let himself sleep in so that when he finally cracked open those maple tinted eyes to the already blazing sun he didn’t allow himself to become concerned with his lack of guardianship. He rolled onto his back and felt the sturdy wood of the bed creak beneath his 7 foot form, eyes raising to the ceiling with his movement. They lingered there as he contemplated his purpose for the day. The Mint, as always, was getting out of hand and creeping into the Lavender, so that needed to be handled. He should probably make a bundle of Linden to take over to the Garcia ranch and see if they’d be willing to spare some fresh milk in trade.

The large man sighed and it rustled across the room as he drove himself to his feet. His rough skin cracked into a smile as he noticed the fresh pitcher of water placed near the basin in his room. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he took care of Jacelyn, or she took care of him. At least it meant she was awake, though mayhaps she hadn’t slept yet. The girl kept hours that made even his head spin. He rinsed himself, noting the gentle hints of cedar wood oil in the water as he scrubbed it across the prickling facial hair and down his neck. He started to dress, still pulling a button up shirt across his hulking mass as he entered the hallway. [color=5E6E65]“Jacelyn?”[/color] His voice boomed through the house with little effort on his part, and then he strained to hear the gentle murmur of response. He received nothing and while his face fell into a slight pout it was probably for the best. She could be chattery when he first awoke and it was better he start to tend to his duties before getting wrapped up in stories. He would have no such luck.

Barefoot, he crossed the garden path from home to teahouse, weaving between a myriad of herbs, plants and trees, some common and others appearing almost alien in the Nevada landscape. Midway across the yard Frances slung himself from a tree and onto Buor’Kut’s shoulder. The monkey chattered away as they entered the back of the teahouse and headed towards the shop’s entrance, crossing through a room decorated with “perches” of all variety, mainly padded chairs and small tables. The side of the room was lined with shelves, some holding a variety of books while jar upon jar of tea and herbs littered the others. He squinted through the curtains at a form on the porch, at first thinking it may be Jacelyn but then the movements seemed to expectant for his graceful cohort. He swung the door open with a smile as the woman’s eyes fell to his chest and then quickly darted upward, to the monkey who had grown silent and then back to his grin. [color=#9a9084]“Greens, oh goodness, I thought you must be out. I was thinking of checking the garden.”[/color]

[color=5E6E65]“I apologize Mrs. Parker. Is there something I can help you with?”[/color] His accent was slight, but still remained coating his words in a foreign tinge that would likely never be lost. A large palm held the door open a little wider so that the woman could step in and then busied himself with opening some of the curtains to illuminate the room.

[color=#9a9084]“Please, call me Caroline, always so formal with you. You aren’t exactly newcomers anymore”[/color] She grabbed at a stray hair and tucked it back in place, now that he actually looked at the woman she seemed a bit, frazzled. She was usually the picture of perfection when she came into town. He said nothing and hoped she would continue. [color=#9a9084]“It’s all this trouble with the cow. It’s making me absolutely sick. Sick I tell you. I was wondering if you had anything that could help with my stomach?”[/color]

At this Buor’Kut frowned ever so slightly.[color=5E6E65] “Jacelyn seems to be out and it is her expertise that keep us in business you know. I tend the garden.”[/color] He thought for a moment and pulled a chair out for the woman. [color=5E6E65]“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll see what she has already made. I’m sure she will be returning shortly and then she can wrap you up something more for home.”[/color] He crossed to the bar area where a few jars sat with premade mixes for the more commonly requested. He put the water on and decided on chamomile, something simple, but good for nerves. As soon as it was done he handed the woman the cup and took a seat across from her. [color=5E6E65]“Now, what is all this about trouble with a cow?”[/color] If he knew anything, it was that sometimes when people came for tea, what they really wanted was someone to talk to, and so it seemed as Caroline Parker launched into her story about all the dreadful events of the evening. As the details were revealed a pout settled itself on his features.

This didn’t sound like [i]their[/i] trouble, but trouble was trouble.