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She rises late for the fifth day in a row. There are hums and sharp voices from the largest hollowed area of the tree. A frown breaks the smile from her face; the feeling of being out of place curls around the happiness until she sighs, defeated.

They mean well, they do. However their worry wears on her. It's why she has become adept at sneaking away; it's why she felt no guilt in teaching the same tricks to Rosebud. Although they differ quite a lot in where they sneak off to. Rosebud escapes to trees -- hours spent in quite solitude or easy friendship with Samuel. Aurora goes home. And home isn't a place -- places never last -- instead it's a pirate. Which is a far cry from being a definition but she gave up a long time ago trying to explain or define them.

With a slow grace, she stands and dresses. Usually it's effortless but the past few day have made it tiring. Two days ago, she dropped back down to her bed and slept a few hours more. Today she shakes her head and forces herself out of the room. She promised to help Rosebud find berries. The girl could do it herself but she has a habit of eating them all and then they'd have to collect more. Why Fauna never does it herself, she'll never know.

"Good morning," she greets the trio, paw closing around the single basket.

"Afternoon, dear," Flora corrects. She pulls out a purple shawl and, tiny wings fluttering, floats up to throw it over the otter's blonde crown. The squirrel's eyes are concerned but she says nothing more, pats the girl's furry cheek and lands back on the ground.

"Are you sure you feel up to collecting berries?" Fauna asks. The green clothed fairy is fretting -- as usual. "You have been under the weather, dear," she points out as soon as the angelic's mouth begins to open.

"Oh let her alone," Merryweather interjects. "Being cooped up with you two for so long will make anyone ill!"

"Now, Merryweather, that wasn't called for. We're only concerned."

"No one ever fuses over me when I feel ill," the stout squirrel grouses. That sets off Flora exactly as it was intended to. Merryweather has taken altercations with her sister to an art form and she, without being asked, uses it often as a distraction. One day the other two fairies will catch on, but not today.

Once outside, the princess takes a deep breath of air. It is a beautiful spring day. As nice as summer is, spring is her favorite season. She smiles and sets off. If she knows Rosebud at all, she'll have bypassed picking berries and gone looking for Samuel first.

Aurora doesn't know his favorite places as well as she does Rosebud's. She knows he's constantly unkempt from his adventures, though he always makes an effort to get cleaned up. However, Elizabeth might know. And she hasn't seen her friend for awhile now. It'll be nice to catch up before she finds her -- she still can't seem to decide whether the younger girl is more her sister or more her daughter -- and they go off to pick berries. Maybe she'll snatch some elderberries to make a wine; it's not rum but he might like it anyway. A smile twitches at her lips.

It takes her longer than normal to reach the Barbossa-Swann home. She'd had to rest once or twice, dizziness and fatigue, but she looks perfectly healthy when she takes a spot on the ground. She looks no different, save wearing a different dress. A gray peasant dress is easily to clean of berry stains than her blue gown.

"Elizabeth?" she calls out. She hopes the other otter is home.

She's humming a sweet melody -- the notes calling the attention of young fledglings -- when her friend emerges. A few last sounds spill out before she stops and allows the spring birds to sing their own tunes. They trill and whistle, a comforting cacophony.

"How are you this fine afternoon, Elizabeth?" she asks, rising and walking over to her friend. She gives the other otter a hug in greeting before sitting back. The purple shawl over her head falls back to settle around her mid-back, ends draping over her forearms.

Aurora gives a soft laugh at her friend's happiness. In this, they share a similarity. Although she fairly doubts that the fairies will ever leave. She doesn't even believe that Rosebud is ready to leave -- unless it's into the high branches of a tree. She vaguely wonders if Merryweather would mind using her wand to make such a home for the girl but now isn't the time to consider it.

"A day all to yourself, a rarity!" she smiles brightly. She takes her basket in her paw, once more, before turning in the direction that the best berry bushes lie. She doesn't move until she is sure Elizabeth is coming.

"Rosebud was supposed to help but if she's not eating the berries, she's probably with Sam up in the trees," she says. "It will be less work without her, I'm sure," she teases. And it certainly will be. Unless she's somehow managed to eat all the berries.

"Oh, he's a wonderful boy. You raised him well," Aurora interjects. She rather likes Samuel. Even the fairies like him, which is quite a feat. They seem rather inclined to hate any male who looks at their girls. There's no mystery in why they haven't ever met Jack.

She takes in the blooms of flowers around them as they head away from the Barbossa-Swann den. "Do they usually want to move out right away, Elizabeth? Rosebud doesn't seem to have any inclination towards leaving," she reveals. Although Rosebud is hardly a normal girl. She, herself, is hardly a normal girl.

Aurora shakes her head, "No, she seems content at home. She knows how to sneak out when the fairies are being a touch too concerned." She shrugs a shoulder. "I only want to make sure she's staying because she wants to. Although perhaps I should have such a conversation with the fairies, instead of her," she laughs. There is a good chance even if the grown girl wanted to leave Flora, and of course Fauna, would hold tight to her skirts or attempt using magic to make her stay.

"Fauna must be happy with Rosebud wearing green. Flora and Merryweather spend so much time turning things pink and blue," she shakes her head. She supposes the middle fairy was born with more than enough patience. It is then she smells the first hints of elderberries and her stomach rumbles. She'd woken so late and slipped out so quick, she'd quite forgotten to eat. She sighs, wondering if she wants to risk saying anything. There's a split chance that she'll be able to keep it down, if she can even stand the smell.

She decides not to mention any hunger. She'd hate to make her friend worry. It comes and goes so, it really doesn't seem to be anything important. She isn't ill, exactly. She's -- well, she doesn't know what she is. There's no reason to worry. She'll pick berries and have a nice day.

She laughs, "And here I thought Rosebud was the one to keep my eye on while picking berries!" Although she's perfectly right. It's practically expected to nick a handful or two of berries. It can take quite a long time to feel a basket and they'd be fools not to snack a little. Besides berries are sweet -- she finds herself wishing there was an apple grove suddenly, she had always enjoyed those -- which is more than she can say for fish.

The thought briefly makes her feel green -- it had been supper the night before last -- but she pushes it away with a shake of her head. Then follows after Elizabeth. The berries, happily, smell divine and her stomach does not roil in waves of nausea. Thank goodness for small favors.

It doesn't take long for the garden -- for lack of a better term -- of elderberry bushes comes into view. The green leaves are almost overtaken by the ripe black orbs that promise to be delicious. There are a few shrubs that sprout red berries and then further along there are more fruits from bushes and trees and vines. For now, she pays attention to the elderberries.

"I think it's safe to say Rosebud isn't about. There's far too many for us to pick," she grins.

An image flashes in her mind of a fish -- all scales and fins and large eyes starring -- that has her swallowing tightly. She is too busy trying to focus on berries and apples to even consider crawdads. It takes a moment where she looks a touch green under her fur before it ebbs and she blows out a breath.

"She would be quite a sight and wouldn't hesitate to do it again, even when it made her sick," she laughs softly.

With basket in paw, she settles in front of two of the elderberry bushes. She begins carefully plucking the berries from their stems. It doesn't take too long for hunger to win out and she presses a berry to her lips, pushing it into her mouth. The skin burst under pressure from her teeth and a sweetness coated her tongue. It is delicious.

However even with a process of picking five and only eating one, it doesn't take long for her to realize sweet as they are, her stomach is not going to cooperate. She swallows the last one, unable to spit it out secretly, even though it feels quite like she won't manage. As much as she wants to, she knows she won't be able to keep it down.

"Please, excuse me for a moment," she starts and then quickly, "I thought I heard, Rosebud." She offers a smile and then turns and tries to slip away slowly. Except she's darting without a bit of subtlety. She rushes and dives into a bush, emptying her stomach much louder and much more in public than she'd like.

She rights herself, paws closing around the shawl that she let fall to the ground, before using the purple cloth to wipe her mouth. It seems the biggest gift right now would be water but she doesn't feel too much like moving. With the voice of Elizabeth drifting to her, she frowns and finds her skin flushing in embarrassment. The blonde tendrils of hair move side to side as she shakes her head.

"I, I'm all right," she breathes finally turning towards her friend. There is a second where she contemplates lying but she's not good at lies. She can tease and do half-truths, she can hold back and let only a few things through, but she cannot outright lie. "I hadn't eaten anything," she admits, eyes fluttering half closed as she looks at the ground.