Henry
Turaco found herself luxuriously sprawled in the embrace of the sun-kissed meadows, each blade of grass a soft, verdant whisper against her emerald scales. The touch of nature's delicate caress prompted a gentle, involuntary sneeze, as if the grass sought to tickle secrets from her very soul.

Lying beneath the expansive canvas of the sky, she yearned to imbibe the unseen wonders it held, even though her world was devoid of sight. A sightless observer of the cosmos, Turaco was left to ponder the mysteries of the heavens through the lens of imagination, with every unseen star painting a constellation of dreams in her mind's eye.

A solitary grass blade, released from its mooring in the breeze, alighted delicately upon her nose, initiating another ephemeral sneeze. She considered the prospect of avoiding the grass, a fleeting thought that was quickly swept away by the whims of her introspection.

"I maybe should avoid grass," Her words were spoken softly, carried by the wind's tender breath. She allowed her voice to linger in the air, like a sonnet of self-reflection, and as if nature itself were her only audience. Then, almost as if the meadows themselves whispered an answer, she continued, "Why should I, though? Life is so tedious, does it truly matter if I am allergic to it?"

Turaco's inquiry hung in the air, like the softest of zephyrs carrying the essence of her contemplation.

She did not expect anyone today. Nor, did she expect anyone to really look after her.
James
"I wouldn't recommend subjecting yourself to something your body advocates against," CometKiller emerged from afar, a hat placed delicately on her head to shade her eyes from the light. Skirt flowing in the breeze, she approached the stranger infront of her, carrying a basket full of jars and herb bundles.

Placing her basket down in the grass, she seemed to not be present for a moment as she took in her environment. Then, her attention returned to the stranger, greeting them with a smile.

"Bothersome to deal with the consequences anyways. Allergies are so annoying. I mean, I work with medicine, I should speak more professionally but at the base if it, they're just inconvenient." CometKiller waved her tail back and forth as she spoke, absorbing the warmth of the sun. "My name's CometKiller. What's yours?"
Henry
Turaco turned their attention toward CometKiller, but the bitterness in Turaco's demeanor remained palpable. They responded in a somewhat detached manner, their voice flat and lacking the warmth typically associated with social interactions.

"I suppose," Turaco replied curtly, offering no further explanation or elaboration. Their words were measured and conveyed a sense of indifference. Turaco didn't seem particularly interested in the stranger's observations or in establishing a connection. The meadow, while picturesque, held little significance for Turaco beyond its mere existence.

When CometKiller introduced herself, Turaco hesitated for a moment, their expression revealing no signs of interest or empathy. "Turaco," They replied, not offering any additional information. There was no friendly exchange of pleasantries, only a stark and unapologetic statement of their name.

Turaco's gaze drifted to the basket of jars and herb bundles carried by CometKiller, but their lack of enthusiasm for the situation remained evident. "Herbs, huh? I smelled it," They muttered, their voice tinged with skepticism. "Nature may heal, but it also inflicts its share of suffering."

She moved a talon to her blindfold made out of flowers, adjusting it a bit to make it more comfortable.
James
"Don't you love that it works that way? It all balances out, when one thing dies, another thing lives. Prosperity in the pain, you know? The time will pass. The wound will heal, with the right remedy." Despite Turaco's unenthusiastic tone, CometKiller was not discouraged to make conversation. It was not exactly that she was ignoring the dimness of her attitude, but rather, she simply did not understand tone and thus continued talking.

"I hope the smell isn't too bad. I love these silly plants but some of them are really stinky. That's why I keep some of them in jars." Unable to read Turaco's expression, she shut her eyes to experience her surroundings mindfully.

"What are you doing out here in the meadows if you're allergic to grass?" She fiddled with the leaves and grass beneath her claws, appreciating the present winds.