Ragnelle is really just enjoying the weather--unlike all of these silly family members of hers, she enjoys warm weather, she soaks up the sun into herself and it gives her a great deal more energy (Ragnelle is solar-powered! :D), and she is walking about getting things she wants and hanging out with trees and generally having a good time. ( Read more... )

Ragnelle is enjoying herself as much as possible, now that she's decided to stay. She goes out often to be among the trees, on the grounds that this has got to help at least somewhat with the frantic, frantic longing in her blood for Inglewood; it's trees, for heaven's sake. It's trees she wants. Shouldn't any trees prove at least somewhat soothing ( Read more... )

Well, imagine. It's May first, come as it should, and Ragnelle is still in the Orkney cottage, dressed in huge sweeping blue skirts and looking indefinably more beautiful even than usual--her hair tumbling darkly over her shoulders, with her Christmas jewellery on, her smooth hands busy with tying bundle of herbs in between having her breakfast, as ( Read more... )

Ragnelle is preparing to leave. She's doing it in her subtle way, by preparing extra herb mixes to leave behind and willing more strength into the foundations of the house and warmth into the beds. She's doing it by seeking out the people she knows and having conversations that are secretly farewells ( Read more... )

Ragnelle is in the woods again, as is her wont. She has a plain dark cloak over her blue dress, being a sensible woman, and her dark hair is coiled up out of the way. She is wearing the necklace and comb she received for Christmas, and moreover she is playing with the tips of trees and rubbing the trunks with her hands as if they were dogs she was ( Read more... )

The burns have finally, with help from her sister, begun to heal well enough that Ragnelle can walk without so many spells to push back the pain, and with joy and relief she is once again come to the forest, and meeting it again with her hands, holding it as she can. She places herself among the trees and all the parts of her that show her tree ( Read more... )

The herbs are loose on the table, bunches unfinished. Ragnelle sits with her hands in her lap, weeping.

It's most unexpected. Her family will know: it's most unlike her.

Ragnelle cannot fix or aid her husband or any of her brothers-in-law; her children aren't here, and the woods keep calling her ( Read more... )

Recent crackplotty goings-on have not been unnoticed by the Orkney family's surrogate mother, and for this reason Ragnelle--pink dress to-day, soft as pussywillow and coloured like the sky at the hint of sunset--is out walking (in the woods), only too available should any care to speak with her.

( Read more... )