Missionary Position

[IDStewart]

The men and women of the dales are a strong-headed, independant lot. Even in the tents and leantos that had been hastily erected around Weregund's general store, the farmers of the dales stood proud, daring any to look down upon them.

As Jonas made his way amoung the dispossessed farmers, he made sure to maintain eye contact with these proud people. Not so long as to make them feel uncomfortable or conspicuous, but long enough for them to see the lack of pity in his eyes. He stooped to examine the leg of one of the older Vargas daughters. What had started off as a simple scratch had begun to beal, the product of the humid weather of the region, the filth that was unavoidable in these living conditions and the stagnant water that had been used to clean out the wound. Searching through the small pouch that hung at his belt, he pulled out a small jar. Dipping two fingers into the jar, he gently applied the paste to the woman's leg. In a matter of days, the wound would started to heal. While the effects of his natural remedies were not as immediate as the healing magics of the priesthood, it was far easier to assist an entire farming community that had fallen on hard times through no fault of their own.

"She's a fine lass," he heard a deep, gravelly voice speak from behind him. Jonas momentarily turned his head to view the imposing girth of Farmer Vargas before turning his attention back to the wound.

"This should heal on its own. In the future, I would recommend against following the rabits when they dive into a briar patch."

The young woman simply nodded, turning away before the monk could catch a glimpse of the nervous smile, or the crimson shade that was spreading across her mud-encrusted cheeks.

Jonas could feel the hot breath of the farmer on the back of his neck as he carefully stowed away the jar.

"She's plenty healthy," the farmer went on, "strong too, with wide hips. Good for child bearin'"

Jonas smoothed out his robe as he stood, turning to face the farmer, "Master Vargas, we have had this conversation before. I felt I had adequately explained myself the last time we spoke."

And the time before that, and before that, Jonas thought to himself.

"I am called to serve the Broken One. As charming...and healthy...as I am certain your daughter is, there is no room in my life for a wife."

"She's a fair cook...", Farmer Vargas called out as Jonas made his way to his next charge.

[Brokenbone]

Cute title, but I feel tricked, ha ha.

Good little vignette.

[foaloke]

I feel cheated that I haven't met Jonas as of yet... Great writing.