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It was rare for Ùna to be far away from the main Djardi camp, however, ever since she'd been called by Baba, the petite female been stressed. It was a relatively new feeling for someone so carefree, and if anything, it was frustrating her. Deeply.

She had nor heart nor will to oppose to what had been burdened on her though. Baba's figure was imposing enough that the lamb had swiftly decided she was doomed, doomed, doomed to do what the Matchmaker wished her to. This didn't mean she couldn't vent her frustration away from others though; her hooves clip-clopped as she found her way to the center of what she deemed to be a deserted field. Once she was sure she was alone, the small female stopped and closed her eyes. Taking a few a few deep breaths, she arched her hands into a pose, holding them above her head, and then, as her green colored eyes opened, she stomped a hoof once, and then twice.

Ùna danced, her bells chiming away, creating music that felt almost thundering, dark, resembling a storm as she vented out her frustrations and anger in the only way she knew how to. She danced and danced till she was all danced out, and even then, as the Djardi dropped to the ground on all four, exhausted, she glared at the blades of grass before her.

Cheated. She felt cheated. So deeply within her mind was she, that she entirely missed that the field was not as deserted as she'd first thought.

It was his voice what startled her first. Ùna had been so out of it that even the chiming of the male's belts had gone unnoticed, no doubt, in her mind, simply residue of the sounds her dance had created. A gasp was resounded the air as the lamb looked up from the grass she'd been so intent in staring at, "I..." her words were chopped off by a lack of breath, which could have been due to the fact she'd collapsed from exhaustion or entirely due to the feelings the looming figure elicited from her.

Snapping her mouth shut (it had to be rude to simply gape up at him, she was sure of it), Ùna managed to bring herself up to a standing position again. Her small hands batted at her dress folds in an attempt to rid them of the excess dirt that had gathered there from her storm-dancing, "I..." she closed her mouth and tried again, seeing as how explaining herself was not particularly working at that moment in time, "Were you watching?" her voice sounded meek, and now that she was standing, the difference in height was staggering. Regardless of this, the girl was (amazingly enough) not expressing fear of the looming male before her. In fact, she sounded embarrassed, almost ashamed that someone had caught her venting out her frustration like that.

There was an awkward, pregnant pause as Ùna looked up at him; there was a nagging thought at the edge of her mind. A premonition of... something that she couldn't quite understand, however, regardless, her eyes were soon enough drawn to the blood splatters upon him, "Are you hurt?" her lithe hands shoot up without fear, as if to inspect him; surely not the typical reaction when seeing such a brutish looking creature, however, her instincts told her she was safe, and the nagging worm at the edge of her mind was telling her that his health, for whatever reason, was pretty damned important, "Did you get in a fight?" never mind that she'd never seen him before, and hadn't even asked him for a name.

She was waving it off as normal concern though. After all, she was a Dajrdi, and her job was tightly tied to others' health. Surely this was natural...

For some reason, his scowling wasn't particularly off-putting. By all means, his expression should have sent her running towards the hills, and yet, Ùna could not bring herself to leave just yet; she felt rooted to the spot for reasons she could not quite place her finger on, "I..." her hands which had landed on his clothes by now, mid-way searching him for injury, stopped, and she for a moment, she looked awkwardly out of place, "You weren't supposed to see that; I was dancing out of anger," it was not an accusation though. It was quite clear she was ashamed and angry at herself, not him, "Dancing isn't supposed to be used for that," the words were mumbled, as if thought out loud before her attention was once again snapped onto his person and the blood stains.

As a Djardi, she'd seen a great deal of injuries before, and while she hadn't treated most of the more serious ones, she'd seen both her father and her Tutor do so. Thus so, the idea of blood, gore and the like, was not particularly off-putting; ironic, for the lithe Ursari looked like the type to have blanched at the thought of a wound. Things were not always as they seemed. It was safe to say she'd dealt with quite a few Ba'al, to say the least; they were the most prone to getting hurt, with good reason too. Needless to say, the way he censored himself did not go unnoticed, and Ùna opened her mouth to address it. However, his enthusiasm and the way he'd perked right up from the almost sullen, dark figure he'd been seconds ago, cut her short. The words dissolved somewhere between her chest and her throat, and the girl was left wondering what was wrong with her. She was hardly ever out of things to say, and yet she was having difficulty kicking her brain into gear.

Ùna was snapped out of her daze when the Ba'al crossed his arms across his chest; a swift evaluation of his movements indicated that he probably was not hurt, and thus, the blood was not his. Despite the fact that such a notion should have opened a whole new can of worms, the girl could not help the rippling feeling of... something or other that bubbled through her. Said feeling was soon enough identified as 'relief', "So you're not hurt?" this was said more out of her need to verify than anything else, for her lithe hands had found no wound on him; she even went as far as lifting his arms out of their crossed position to check. Or at least, she tried to do so; it was clear that the small lamb would have never been able to budge the larger figure an inch if he'd not wished her to do so.

The fact she was worried about him, not to mention the way her anger was slowly melting away to be replaced by... that rippling feeling at the pit of her stomach had also not gone unnoticed by the small healer. She was, despite this, trying her best to shove it all away. For the time being anyhow; she'd have time enough to analyse herself later, "You're Ba'al then, I take it; I've treated a few of your brothers. But I've never seen you before."

Thought he'd masked it quite efficiently, the laughter was still apparent (especially taking into account she was currently manipulating his arms and the rumble had truthfully... rung through him). Her eyes shoot up to his face, and for a moment she looked mildly confused for she could not, for the life of her, figure out why he would be so amused. Was it because he was ticklish? Was she tickling him? The idea that his mirth was triggered by her rather innocent question never so much as occurred to her. Regardless, if he could laugh... cough... uh... sound like that, it was most likely that his torso was not hurt. Actually, seeing as how he was amused, it was pretty damned likely he wasn't hurt at all. In her (albeit still mild) experience with the sick and wounded, they didn't see much to laugh at till cured.

The scene must have been comical to an onlooker though, that was for sure; the girl finally let go of his arms and once more turned her head up to look at his face. My... but he WAS tall, wasn't he? He loomed over her petite body without even trying to. Her ears twitched slightly as he spoke, and she was momentarily drawn out of whatever pool of thought she'd been indulging herself in, "Una," she told him, "My name is Una. I'm a Djardi," and then, almost randomly, the small creature frowned and stretched a hand up, standing up on tip toes (or rather, on the edge of her hooves, seeing as she was missing the toes to stand on tip toes with). Her brows shot up to hide into her tousled bangs as she noticed that even out stretched, her hand did not quite reach his antlers, "You're really tall," it was said spontaneously, as if it'd only really just started to dawn on her. Almost as if an afterthought, the girl waved her out stretched hand, indicating silently how much of a height difference there was between them.

Completely and utterly unaware of his growing discomfort, she lowered herself back down just in time to see him wince, "Are you sick?" actually, now that she mentioned it, perhaps she was sick too? The strange feeling at the pit of her stomach could be nothing other than indigestion, she was sure of it. Except, as far as she was aware, indigestion did not tend to feel suspiciously like a flock of butterflies. Almost instantly, and as if to mirror Daevan, the girl's own horns pulled off their own strange glowy stunt; sadly, she could not really see her own horns, and her eyes were not on his, but rather, on his stomach (which was comically almost straight in her line of vision), so thus she was missing it all entirely. Then again, there was a clear chance she wouldn't have known how to interpret it had she seen it.

Una knew she'd hit a sore spot almost immediately after she'd spoken. However, she couldn't understand WHY it would be a sore spot; she blinked innocently up at him, then turned her gaze down upon herself, "I am," she agreed rather easily, "I can't reach the high shelves," her gaze shoot up to meet his eyes once more, and a small smile appeared back upon her lips, "You wouldn't have an problem reaching the high shelves," if anything, it was obvious she was not easily off put. By all means, she should have, really; common sense would have told anyone to turn around and leave, now that it had been concluded he was not wounded. However, the thought of leaving had not yet even so much as entered her mind.

She watched silently as he sat down and finally found herself face to face with him. The butterflies were still rather persistent, and in the corner of her mind, Una decided that she was never going to have the particular dish she'd indulged herself in that very morning. Seeing as how he was taking the moment to inspect her (and feeling rather giddy that he was doing so, to boot), she allowed her green eyes to lift from his face and up to his horns. Now that they were within reach, she shamelessly stretched out a hand to rub their surface, "I like your antlers," it was once again, said almost spontaneously, as if it'd only just occurred to her. There was no way she could have known she was voicing his own thoughts about hers, "They're good antlers. And glow," a pause followed her last revelation as the nagging thought at the edge of her mind told her that surely that was not normal.

For a moment, she was tempted to ask if all Ba'al horns glowed like that, but then decided that was a stupid question. Of course they didn't glow like that; she had treated her fair share of Ba'al, and none had glow-y... horns. Then, of course, she was tempted to ask if his horns always did that in the afternoon glow of the sun, because in all honesty, it was almost hypnotising. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, that she thought it was too romantic, and clearly she was just seeing things. No doubt due to the mild indigestion she was suffering. Regardless of her thoughts though, her hand had grown a mind of it's own and refused to abandon the perch it'd found, atop his antlers, where it still stroked the surface, "If you're feeling ill, I could heal you," head turned so she could focus her eyes on his again.

An ear perked up through the mass of tousled hair as he spoke, "Yes," she told him, looking quite suddenly, horribly proud of of the fact, "I use music to heal wounds," a pause, "I also use it to make other feels happy if they're sad," her hand finally left his antler so that she could reach at the bell around her neck, giving a soft shove, which instantly produced a jingle, "I guess one could say my magic is triggered by the sounds and movement, and then I simply use it like anyone else would. I think music is marvellous," Una didn't seem to think that he was particularly scary... and if she did think it, she was doing a marvellous job at not showing it. Chances were, however, that she'd decided she liked him on the spot, as she was prone to do, "I think... I think I will try," came her answer as she took a step away from him.

Taking a deep breath, the small Ursari posed her hands and closed her eyes. A few deep breaths were taken, and her features were serious, rather than joyful as she prepared herself. When her green hued eyes opened, the dance began, and this time, rather than a storm, it was a soothing river of a sound; sweet, melodic, and her movements carried no anger, but rather, a undeniable will to help. As the movements slowly ended and she drew nearer she seemed confused; oddly enough, the dance had done nothing to settle her own stomach, "That didn't help me much," she informed him, unknowingly betraying the fact she felt pretty much like he did.

When the comment about her horns passed his lips, the small healer's brows shot up to hide within the mass of hair that hung over her forehead, "They are?" her hand reached up to run the border of her ram like horns, and she blinked. Then, the smile was back upon her lips again, softening her features in gratitude, even over something so little as that compliment, "Thank you," then as an after thought, "Are you feeling better?"

The were a mild pause as the girl raised a hand to tap her chin, looking once more, slightly confused, "I... don't know. I feel like I had something bad to eat. But all I had were sweets this morning. They never make me feel bad. And besides, it's not really a 'bad' feeling," it was soon enough becoming clear that expressing herself verbally was not one of Una's fortes. She was more used to body language and could read that easily; perhaps that was why she did not feel threatened in Daevan's presence. As far as she was aware, he meant her no harm, "I feel like rather than candy, I eat a flock of butterflies," another pause followed, as if she felt the need to elaborate, "And I also feel giddy."

While it was true that the small lamb was usually quite the giddy, cheerful Ursari, she was sure the strange sensation she could feel rippling through her was new. Strange, and mildly confusing, but not bad. Not bad at all.

As he scolded her, her smile showed once more. Una could tell when someone was scolding her out of spite, or out of worry, "Thank you for worrying about me. I thought the dance would help me too, but that's not the case," her hand stretched out and she took a hold of his own, showing absolutely no fear to the touch. In fact, no sooner had she gripped it and given it a small tug (no doubt trying to lift him up from his sitting position - which was needless to say, comical given the fact she couldn't have budged him an inch by her own means), the healer decided that touching him felt very, very nice. Never once did she stop to really consider this, or the many ans of worms that single notion opened, but rather, instead, merely kept her grip on his hand, "Let's go find a healer then."