Chasa listened to Simon with sort of detached interest, mulling over his words and solidifying her and Darnies's thought of him being a Fae of the Hunt. She kept her arms crossed at her chest and leaned against the mossy cavern wall as the Fae finally began his actions. The snap was louder than expected, but she tilted her head at the Hunter's minute response. Then, his attention found it's way to her. His words were cold and barbed, they aimed for the weakest of points and attempted to sink their hooks into you, pull you out and leave you unraveled before him. The only problem was she was the last one they would work on.

When he finished, she laughed. It was oddly blank, just as her face had become. She leaned into the element she was made of and took comfort in the lack of emotion. 

"Dear Hunter," She began, staring directly into his eyes over Simon's shoulder as she knelt down, her stance still wide and perfectly balanced. "You seem to be under the assumption that some Creatures don't exist [i]purely to serve[/i]." It was said with the tone of a teacher that had to give a student a hard lesson about life. "A shield benefits from its owner; in return for getting dented and dirty in way of protecting, the shield is then hammered back into shape and polished. It does not weather in nature, as the owner keeps it by his side in shelter. It keeps place at one's side in court and in battle, and it serves its purpose until it no longer can," She tilted her head and shrugs. "at which point it is melted back down and reforged, or it finds its final resting place in the ground with its master. Regardless, a much better life than a hunk of ore that didn't know purpose or life, weathered to sediment and swept away by the current, don't you think?"
[hr]
"Wow," Darnies said, looking at Bo with sad eyes. "You don't even know that normal weed can't get you high anymore, that's sad." He nodded to Vie and she disappeared into the Garden, heading for a small shed-like building on the other side of the pond. He looked at his red raw arms and realized he had begun bleeding again and groaned dramatically. He snatched up a branch of flowers from a shrub whose petals began reddish purple at the base but bled yellow as it reached the tips. He slipped his arms directly into the shallow pond, pressing the flowers against the cuts under the water. He couldn't heal himself, that was always a gift meant for use on others, but that didn't mean he didn't know medicinal properties both scientific and magical. It may be said that Witch Hazel was named with the middle english word [i]wych[/i], but that's just because the Mundane world needed to rationalize everything, it came from his people and the Supernatural world knew it.

The blood stopped flowing and the redness died down, making him look more like a sunburn victim that got a ton of paper cuts than someone that stood in the middle of a glass and fire tornado. He counted it as a plus. He let the branch drop to the bottom of the pond and pulled his arms out must as Vie returned with a tray, two blunts rolled with a dark red filling, and two that were almost unnaturally green inside. She handed the red-filled ones to the vampires and set the tray to her left as she sat down next to Darnies and they each picked up one of the green ones.

"You didn't have to roll them for us, Vie." Darnies said, though his smile was grateful.

"I looked out the window and you were shoulder deep in pond water, Little Earth, it only made sense." She assured, smiling back.

"Thanks," He replied as he lit up. "Anyway, Baby Bite, I use a mix of blood and potion instead of water every other watering period, and then Vie continues to imbue it with leftover bottles of my magic when I can't be here." He blows out a cloud of smoke and turns his head to Neirie.

"Hey, not tryina push you or anything, but..." He laid back in the soft moss. "my wards...they, well let's just say they alerted me in a way they don't often do. Is there like," He waved a hand vaguely. "a specific task you came to Gravette for or something?"