Part of her, bored, was ready to take up East's investigation as a little diversion. It would be a few minutes of something to do, given how few visitors were in the palace just then. But another part was already growing bored, her serpentine tails beginning to bicker amongst themselves. Her mind began to drift, and-

"Visions-?" she said abruptly, attention snapping back as East finished. A dead body was uninteresting to her, really. But... "We don't have any flowers like that." She was half puzzled, but her interest was once more piqued. "I manage the gardeners," she added; "I'd know."

Another thoughtful pause, and she shook her head, coming to a decision. If something was going on, best she'd be informed. "Show me."

"Show-!"
"Me!"
"-Flowers!"

...hissed her tails.

@East

An unapproved garden plot? East considered the scenario with a squint.

Quite an oversight, but he supposed that could happen in a place large as this. With so many varieties, some of which could practically pass for cousins due to their similarities in color or shape, slipping in a brand new crop amongst the familiar only required tricking eyes dulled over time from tending to the usual sea of flowers. Who would notice, after all, if some petals were slightly more lopsided than typical when they grew just as healthily as their near identical neighbors. So long as they didn't throw the entire aesthetic off, the difference wouldn't matter.

He nodded, though a guarded side-eye was reserved for the hissing chorus directed at him—a note jotted in his mind reminded him to stay well out of striking distance should Isra's simpler serpent side desire a nibble of free-range bird after a round of flower-sniffing. "I trust your... servants can manage tidying without further direction in the meantime?"

If she needed to leave a few instructions first, he'd wait a moment longer. Otherwise with an idle remark of, "I suppose you have something to avoid taking a whiff of these flowers. They're pretty potent, though I've doubts they'll punch you as hard as they did me," the bird squeezed his past the door and into the hall again. Not wanting to slow travel back to the gardens, the rest of the distance he covered off the ground, wings as always swifter than feet. The way to the cave wall was more of a stroll than a jaunt, and saving time would also ease possible flaring tempers.

Isra shook her head as to the first query, but in a dismissive manner rather than in the negative. "They have their instructions," she answered simply. They could work, on their own; they knew their tasks. Although--as if in afterthought--she paused on the way out the door and called over her shoulder: "Leave the red tapestry until I return." It was too valuable to risk someone ripping it as they tried to hang it without her coordination.

Then: off through the field. Isra followed at a swift but stately pace, finding the fresh air to be a reprieve. Not that the Palace was stuffy, exactly. She'd be a poor Guardian if that were the case. But the wind and floral scent was refreshing nonetheless.

As they came in sight of the flowers, the flickering flame in her eyes flared brighter. She slowed, gesturing. "Is that them-? Those aren't ours," she reiterated, musing over what this meant. When was the last time they'd been here? She'd have to ask the gardeners, but she was fairly sure these hadn't been here just a cycle or two ago.

"Aren't ours..."
"Ours!" "Ours!" her three tails hissed.

Hmmm. She waited to be shown the bones as she drew up, stopping before the flowers themselves. Or--"Are the bones in the flowers? -And you said these are... hallucinogenic? -They cause visions?" she clarified, just in case East didn't know the word. He seemed like the sort who might. He apparently delighted in exercizing an expansive vocabulary, if anything, but... best to avoid awkwardness.

@East

Never let it be said that East was a poor student to life's harder-hitting lessons. Lack of awareness had sent him stumbling headfirst into illusory danger, and a repeat performance would do little good in presenting this unusual case of guerilla gardening. As they approached the burial site, not once did he swoop to touch the ground. Instead wings caught an upward draft and sent him soaring to circle above those deceptive flowers. Maintaining space between gusting pollen and his beak would prevent not only sneezing but a whole lot of hazardous confusion. He called down to Isra the answers to her inquiries.

"That's right: visions, and none of them pleasant. A great deterrent since those bones are buried close to the center of this patch. I doubt anyone with a lick of sense still left in them would wade in any deeper after that. Guess our mystery gardener didn't account for an overhead view of the spot."

Isra appraised the plants with a scowl, then looked up at East. "Wait here, please," she instructed, before heading back toward the palace.

She would be gone for a few minutes; East would have time to contemplate. But as he did, so did she. She wondered who had planted the damn things. She wondered if it only affected birds, but she wasn't about to stick her nose in and risk it finding out. If someone had, then more importantly: why? Yes, yes, the dead body was a question. But she was also remembering the old days, the spies and the tattletales, and wondering if that's why East had come to her: with some hope of being rewarded. She set aside the notion, resolving to offer him some small reward just in case.

When she returned, it was with a small brazier hanging from a golden chain. Void-lit fire hissed and crackled from its embers, and Isra carried it to the edge of the flowers and set it down. When they were finished, she'd replace it on its wall but for now she used paws to tug loose a few flowers, scattering them in the grass away from the main 'garden.' Even from that, she felt the touch of visions, and grimaced; she'd thought herself far enough away. But East was right: shadows swam at the edges of her vision, whispers crowding her, and she shook it away as best she could (forewarned, it wasn't so bad) and pushed the brazier into the rest. The flames took--slowly, on the living stems and leaves, but they did take.

"I'll take these back to the gardeners, but so far no one I spoke to recognizes them." She nodded to the uprooted blossoms. "As for the rest of this, let's burn it away to have a look at these bones of yours. I'd suggest steering clear of the smoke. And while we wait--were you hoping for a reward?" This was asked flatly. Bluntly. If he wanted one, so long as it wasn't something ridiculous, she'd try to see that he got it. If it was, she'd probably laugh at him and tell him to aim lower, but...

...Isra's flaming eyes moved back over the alien garden. Something about this troubled her.

@East

Maybe it was treading on the boundaries of disrespect to consider this once Isra had departed for the palace; it certainly would've been if he'd voiced the developing thought in her presence, but now only the plants could hear any insight if it slipped from his beak. In the space time afforded, East found himself free to indulge in speculative morbidity while keeping watchful flight above flowers of questionable origin. To wonder and level criticism at a staff who'd seemingly not detected an intrusion of the floral variety for cycles at a time.

Taking into account, after all, how these flowers had been documented in worn and leatherbound pages, what else could this appear but as nothing other than gross negligence. Certainly the supposed trickery that had brought them here was a clever sort, carefully done to not draw instant suspicion, but cultivating a crop with startling properties shouldn't have escaped the notice of those tending the gardens for so remarkably long. It boggled the mind the more he pondered: how could no one in such a vast span have reported the hallucinations inflicted upon them? Had the imagery once been too subtle to notice, their potency grown over successive generations? Possibly, but they'd been noteworthy ages ago, certainly enough they should've been rooted out and culled as the imposters they were before even his own birthing chrysalis had formed.

Could magic have played a role in this astonishing ignorance, made eyes slide away when they should've focused instead? Maybe observers had been charmed into forgetting the frights inflicted upon them, the spell cast specially tailored to target those working at the palace, and now its immense longevity had finally run its course. An outlandish possibility, but others he could propose were no better. So far, his search for answers spun him in circles, tail feathers the only tangible thing to be grasped.

Isra's return came amidst a throbbing headache born from intense theorizing. After repeatedly smacking against dead ends in logic, seeing the palace supervisor was a welcome relief from mental self-harm. Once she collected a few choice specimens and set the rest of the unauthorized field ablaze, East heeded her warnings about smoke and steered wings away from the emerging patch of ashes. He glided closer to where she stood, maintaining still a cautious distance from her serpentine tails, and hummed at mention of a reward.

What was this, some bribe to keep mum about the palace's failings here? Eyes sharpened, suspicion glinting in them, as if to pierce through to the heart of her intentions. His next words he phrased carefully to avoid sounding too pushy in his suggestions.

"Nothing more than a name and face to that fella buried out there if you can find one. But seeing as those could be a tall order to fill, I can settle for a stiff drink instead. The sort that warms toes and leaves your brain buzzing."

Might as well take advantage of the offered hospitality. He'd been craving a swallow of alcohol to numb shaky nerves, and the ball he'd attended assured him any beverage from this place was bound to be of the highest quality. What better way to drown out the unceasing propagation of questions. It'd make it easier for him to idle the time away with Bentley later and learn of subjects wholly unrelated to death and quests for power.

Isra's gaze shot to East, her expression one of stark surprise before it slid into deep, pleased amusement instead. "A stiff drink-? I'll mix you something myself." Now that was funny. And she could approve. The Gembounds-... They could be troublesome, but more often she thought of them as children.

None of them had ever asked for a martini or the like, before. Well-... not often, anyway.

"As for an identity... let's see."

After a few minutes, the worst of the flowers had burned away; the tower of smoke that rose from them was choking, and Isra grimaced as she waved a paw in disgust. "Ugh," she muttered, which was at once taken up by the chorus of snakes at her tail.

It was hard for them to "hiss" the word "ugh," but they managed.

A moment later she was retreating, grimacing at the steaming earth, holding more of those bones in her tusked jaw. Then she was in the burned patch again, repeating this.

It took a moment, and maybe she'd seriously messed up East's crime scene, but after a bit, she had the rest of the skeleton arranged outside the darkened earth.

The bones looked like a Gembound, yet there was no gemstone to be seen. The ribcage was large, with spines along the back; the hind legs were cloven-hooved and the forelimbs had odd, paw-like digits. The skull was rounded, fanged.

Maybe there was more to notice, if East had a particularly keen eye, or focused on something in particular... for now, Isra regarded the skeletal body, thinking.

---

East may roll to try and investigate the bones, or when examining anything in particular, a GM tag will reveal any oddities with the body parts examined. It's FORENSICS time!

@East

Well, the skeletal remains delivered and arranged away from blackened soil qualified as a curious character, that much was certain. Their gemless state brought forth questions of whether their mysterious gravedigger had enjoyed trophies or valued the fallen individual's design. Spines, fangs, and hooves implied a bestial nature, yet the femur his canine help had managed hauling to the palace offered the picture of someone potentially more civilized than expected, willing to walk upright at times if need be. His current vantage point overhead made piecing together this picture easier than if he'd stuck to the ground and within reach of whatever leftover fumes tainted the air. This was simply the foundational guesswork for what he witnessed however. The details needed to refine the blurry image in his mind rested closer to the earth, knowledge of a life's experiences etched into bones. Every healed fracture or odd bump would only be discovered if sought out and examined closely by sharp eyes and talons alike.

Feathers rustled, and East swooped down to alight beside one of this forgotten shell's splayed forelimbs. Blame it on personal gripes with limited dexterity, but the unusual structure of these drew his curiosity most, not quite a quadruped's paw but a close companion to one. A toe nudged away at the digits and joints, and their extent of function was pondered.

"Quite a handshake on them," he remarked, engaging his entire foot in lifting the appendage.

The forelimbs bones, upon very close inspection, were fairly fresh. Yellowed, rather than bleached white and worn by time.

A nasty scar had torn across the rear edge of the forearm bones. Not the sort that had healed over, either. Something, then, to do with the cause of death--or the moment of it? It looked like they'd been slashed by a bladed weapon, or a very, very sharp claw.

@East

Ah, there was the foul play he'd been looking for. Where the recovered femur hadn't told a tale other than that of advancing age, these bones spoke of the expected brutality which awaited most in death. A steady gaze accustomed to observing such injuries after flesh was long reduced to oil now traced the blatant sign of a rending wound. Its position guided East into a swift leap, and he fluttered down to lightly perch on the nearby rib cage next, neck twisting for a cursory sweep of the landscape beneath him. Following a trail of scarring, he had an idea where to look first; furthermore if the arms harbored the edge of the attack, surely this would be a good candidate for hosting the majority of it.