Closed [Stormhold Salves] - Method to Madness [Aoren]

[Altaira Readva]

13 Autumn, 513 AV

Altaira moved with a fluid swiftness, weaving in between people and stall alike as she hurried along her way. She'd told herself that she'd be up bright and early that morning, ensuring she was nothing less than punctual on her first day at work - if she could call it that. Sure, she'd been sent to Stormhold Salves as a new worker, but how much the mistress of the store knew was yet to be seen. A hefty trip to the market saw her buy a bounty of new clothing, and for the dress-to-impress first day, she'd opted for trousers and one of her more colourful shirts, her hair fashioned in a rather messy side plait. Nothing too fancy, but more appealing to the practical side of the work she was take.

She carefully dipped around two large figures, both hoggish, wild things; they took up well over half the walk way as the sauntered on. She'd seen better groomed, wild raised kelvic before. She didn't bother with politeness as she passed, making a point of her discontent as rounded them. One huffed and the other grumbled, and she let out a disdainful sorry as she marched on. Humans, she mentally spat, quick in recollection of her own, bitter run ins with the kind. Not all were bad, she knew; but most she'd come across in the last few seasons had been less than hospitable. She was quick to learn of how sheltered she'd been in Avanthal, but was far too stubborn to return to place.

She moved her mind onto other things, and thanked the gods her boss was said to be of at eypharian blood. “Ok,” she sighed to herself, her breaths deep but becoming more shallow quickly. “There shouldn’t be too far left to go.” She frowned as she went, recalling the directions she’d been told several blocks back - at least that human, in particular, wasn't so hoggish as most she'd had the displeasure of encountering. She bit her lip and rounded a corner, eyes scanning the walls and signs and pavement, searching in earnest for the sign that would deliver her from her own rush and worry. She was lucky to have her sight, her enhanced vision just spying the simple sign some little while away, and her breath left her in relief. “Thank the Gods,” she mused, straitening her back as calming herself down as she approached.

She hadn’t been sure what to expect from the store, and although it seemed to be one of the less pretentious stores of the district, she still felt the need to tug at her shirt and smooth down her hair as she entered. She was hit with a number of smells and flavours, ranging from herbs she’d find on the road as she traveled, to those she’d only gotten a whiff of as she accompanied some merchant’s caravan. But there were other smells, too, ones not nearly as sweet or pleasing, some she barely recognised, other little components she had no idea. Her eyes scanned the shelves and the walls, expecting to see laid out sections and regions – surprised to see that there was little to no method to the place’s madness.

She heard movement and drove forward, hoping to find the Mistress of the place in a good mood and not expecting much, especially since she knew that her own skill was limited. “Hello?” She called, moving towards what seemed to be a front counter, “Is Misstress Sahfri Blackleaf here?” she trailed, eyes following the sound of movement, “My name is Altaira – I was told to seek out work here,” her words trailed, confusion and doubt setting in.

[Aoren]

“Now place the beaker carefully above the brazier so that the flame doesn’t overheat the mixture.” Aoren was holding a glass beaker a few inches above a steady candle flame holstered in a Philtering apparatus. There was an iron ring situated just above the candle attached to an iron rod fused to the base of the brazier. He moved the beaker closer to the ring situated above the candle then set it lightly on its surface with a calm breath. The mixture he was working with was a bit more delicate and volatile than normal. He was working on an oil used to waterproof leathers but in its presently unrefined state the substance was highly flammable and prone to spreading rapidly. That he was being allowed to work with it largely unsupervised was a testament to how much faith Sahfri Blackleaf had in her apprentice.

“Okay, now add just a teaspoon of linseed extract.” He grabbed a jar of a brownish looking liquid along with a measuring spoon. With a steady hand he dipped the spoon into the jar allowing the overflow to drip back into the main body of linseed oil steadily before moving it closer to the beaker.

“Careful, Aoren. Careful. Careful…”

“Hello?” Aoren’s hand twitched in surprise as a voice intruded upon the silence of the shop…and his thoughts. His eyes widened as faster than he could stop it the spoon in his hand slipped plopping into the beaker causing droplets of the mixture to fly out.

“Shyke!” A few droplets got too close to the open flame and ignited. Aoren jumped back as the chemically induced fire roared to life flaring with intensity causing the beaker to shatter. He watched in horror as the entire contents of the beaker dropped onto open flames and ignited. For a moment everything seemed to go in slow motion as he saw the tongues of flame lash out across the surface of the work table. So he did the only thing he could do…he called on his Reimancy.

With barely a flick of his thoughts Aoren brought his hands up conjuring gaseous Res that exuded forth from his palms. He spread his arms outward splaying his fingers wide and the Res surrounded the worktable. Clapping his hands together Aoren took in a deep breath then began making circular motions with his forearms. The gaseous Res began to spin around the worktable gaining speed rapidly. Concentrating on the layers of the Res he furrowed his brow separating the Res into two thin layers. With a flick of his thoughts he willed the inner layer to attract Air while keeping the outer layer spinning rapidly. He further willed the inner layer to propel the air outward and outside of the small cyclone he’d created essentially creating a vacuum that would deprive the fire of one of the fundamental things it needed to thrive: air.

Aoren watched as the fire rapidly died down as it was quickly deprived of the key element it needed to survive. He noticed how the temperature in the room dropped dramatically and some of the containers within the workspace began to frost over from the rapid decrease. Once the fire died out he released his hold on the Res causing the cyclone to dissipate. Several pieces of paper went scattering around the room, a few tools were knocked over, the shelves rattled and Aoren was buffeted with a nice layer of dust and soot causing him to cough waving the cloud away from his face. All in all he was proud of the way he’d handled the situation. He knew that water would have been of no use in that instance as the fire would have just kept burning in the parts untouched by the failsafe liquid.

“Is Misstress Sahfri Blackleaf here?” Aoren walked out of the back workroom coughing and still waving the smoke out of his face. He came to stop at the doorway leading to the room eyeing the newcomer who had inadvertently caused him to nearly burn down the whole shop.

“No she is—“ A fit of coughing overcame whatever words Aoren might have said next. He pounded on his chest trying to clear his lungs of the soot and dust before taking a deep breath…and coughing again.

“My name is Altaira – I was told to seek out work here.” Finally the coughing subsided and Aoren was able to breathe. He took another deep breath clearing his throat and sighing heavily. Not because of her question. Not because he would have to start over but because of the mess he now had to clean up. He ran a hand through his hair grunting in frustration before rubbing his face which only caused the small amount of soot there to spread. He fixed Alraira with a stare that said he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her. His cobalt blue eyes contrasting sharply with the dark soot on his face.

“We were expecting you thirty chimes ago. Mistress Blackleaf has been called to the Dyres District to help one of the physicians there. I’m tending the shop at the moment.” He gestured to the array of ointments, poultices, tinctures and tonics. A slight redness touched his cheeks as he pointedly ignored the mess that was now in the work room.

“Altaira, was it? Welcome to Stormhold Salves. You can start by helping me to clean up this mess.” Sighing heavily Aoren went to the closet to retrieve two wash cloths, a broom, a makeshift dust pan and to hang up his now dirty apron. He returned with the tools handing the broom to Altaira then jerking his head in the direction of the workroom.

Upon entering the room Altaira would be greeted with a beautiful mess. There were glass shards on the floor from where several beakers had fallen along with the ones from the beaker that had exploded. The work table was covered in black soot from the fire that had raged across its surface. There were papers strewn everywhere and tools scattered along the shelves and floor. Aoren scratched his head looking at it all.

“Shall we?” He shrugged at her then went to one of the buckets of water kept in the corner. He dipped a rag in it then set about wiping the surface of the work table. It would do much but it would at least help…a little.

[Altaira Readva]

The man was coughing, his face blackened, breaths shallow and voice coarse. She felt a pang of guilt wash over her, eyes raking over the mess of the room behind him, and connecting the dots as to who was the likely cause. She swallowed hard and stood shock straight, almost sizing herself up to the tall man. He cleared his throat and gave her a rather uncertain look, his words in no way lessened the deep seeded regret that was quickly curdling within her. “We were expecting you thirty chimes ago. Mistress Blackleaf has been called to the Dyres District to help one of the physicians there. I’m tending the shop at the moment.” He said, drawing Altaira’s attention to fullness of the store in which she stood in, an act that took much of the sting that came with the pointing out of her tardiness.

The longer she was there, the more she took a liking to it. In a way, it reminded her of home. The place was broken-in and worn, and although to those who were foreign to the place, much like herself, may have seen it nothing more than a mess of bottles and jars, she felt the strangest sense of belonging. It reminded her of how her elder brother’s room was often strewn with tokens and clothing, but if there was something he needed to retrieve, he’d have it in a heartbeat. Although, there was a slight possibility that his uncanny ability to seek and retrieve was more or less due to his base species being of the canine family, than him actually recalling where he placed something.

“I am so sorry,” She murmured, eyes like glass on the man, not game enough to speak up with the changing roll of the topic. Her prolonged gaze had her notice the slightest flush of his cheeks, and she lingered on the contrast that was stark on his face – her eyes quickly falling from the blue of his irises, to the soot that clung to skin, before resting for a moment on the slight redness of his cheeks. She returned a short look the backroom, noting keenly how the man’s figure hid a great deal of the mess behind him, and found herself viewing the man more as a child that did no real wrong, but was embarrassed to be caught out. Of course, the ‘no real wrong’ titbit was more of ‘someone else’s wrong,’ with that ‘someone’ being herself.

“Altaira, was it? Welcome to Stormhold Salves. You can start by helping me to clean up this mess.” It was more than fair enough, she thought, and almost opted to do the majority of the tidying herself, had she known where to put a single one of the items strewn across the floor. The man then made quick of the journey to the closet, collecting as well as depositing, before returning and giving her the broom, a quick gesture to the back room following. “Shall we?” he mused, enthusiasm for the work so done and tired Altaira had to smother a smirk.
“Might as well get it over and done,” She said, her words leaving her as a sigh.

He seemed to make straight for a bucket, and went to work scrubbing away at the blackened bench, and although Altaira felt like she’d already been given the job of sweeping away the mess, she instead rested the broom against a wall, before collecting the makeshift dust pan. She eyed the largest shards of glass, and noted the location of the mostly intact beakers, deciding that it would be best to rid the floors of the most harmful debris.

She took great care in her work, concentrating her efforts into the picking up and deposition of the glass onto the dust pan without injuring herself. She found herself hoping that there was nothing harmful that slicked the fragments, with several times in particular having almost dropped a shard because her grip was slippery. Once she was done with all she could see, she stood and survey the room, finding a disposal bin a few, short moments later.

“So…” she began, emptying the dust pan and setting it on a cupboard, deciding on her next form of attack. “What is your name?” She trailed, trying not to sound rude or pushy or whatever misinterpretation could come of her words. She knelt down and collected a pair of tongues, quickly adding, “And what was it you were trying to do here? Before I interrupted and,” She gestured to the room, “Well, I assume I had a big hand in this.” She bit her lip, and busied herself in collected other items and utensils from the floor to distract herself from her following words,"Sorry about that, by the way."

[Aoren]

“So…” Aoren looked up as it was apparent that his newfound co-worker had something to say. His stare wasn’t stern. It wasn’t unwelcoming. It was actually quite the opposite. He ceased wiping the surface of the tabletop arching his eyebrow in response to her question. “…what is your name?”

“You may call me Aoren.” He began to scrub at a particularly stubborn soot stain that was refusing to get out of the surface of the table. When it became apparent that the stain’s stubbornness was beginning to outweigh Aoren’s determination he sighed moving on to another part of the table that proved less defiant.

“And what was it you were trying to do here? Before I interrupted and…well, I assume I had a big hand in this.” He glanced up looking away from what he was doing to watch her gesture vaguely to the scorched table. He returned his gaze back to his scrubbing. He was fiercely intent on getting as much of the soot stains out of the surface as he could.

“I was working on an oil infused with linseed extract that was supposed to act as a waterproof barrier for the things it is applied to once it was completed. The ingredients however are highly flammable in the oil’s unfinished form.” He managed to get a great deal of the soot covering the worktable off of its surface but the blackened burn marks would forever mar the surface until it was replaced. That would not be a cheap replacement either. He sighed inwardly. Sahfri Blackleaf was not an ill-tempered woman but he hated to disappoint her. What made things even worse was the fact that she had left the shop in his care and this had happened on his watch. "Needless to say I learned exactly how flammable the materials were only moments ago." Aoren managed a soft chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Sorry about that, by the way.”

“You’re fine.” He gave Altaira a half-hearted smile. It wasn’t much. Aoren wasn’t irritated about the fact that he’d been interrupted. People interrupted him all the time. He was more upset at the fact that he’d allowed himself to be startled by a simple opening of the door. He would have to increase the steadiness of his hands and be more diligent in his work during the days ahead. It wasn’t as if a fire was something they didn’t expect from time to time. The things they worked with at Stormhold Salves could easily burn down half the citadel if they had the mind to set them alight. The fact of the matter was that Aoren didn’t like failure. He hated the befuddled feeling that came with not completing an appointed task successfully.

“I have a long ways to go before I’m anywhere near the skill of Mistress Blackleaf. Sometimes I look at the things she’s able to create and all I can do is shake my head in wonder.” He walked over to the bucket of water dunking his rag back into it. It swirled with the ash and soot the cloth had attracted during his scrubbing. He squeezed it out over the bucket then went back to wiping away the shame of his failure from the surface of the worktable. “It was one of the things that first interested me in becoming not just an apothecary but a philterer in general. I’m thankful for the fact that I am a patient man otherwise I might have given up being her apprentice a long time ago. This is certainly not fast work but it is rewarding.”

“So, what made you choose the work here at the shop? This probably isn’t what you envisioned your first day on the job being like, I’m sure.” He chuckled softly. Regardless of who’s fault the would-be fire had been at least Aoren didn’t have to tackle the task alone. He didn’t blame Altaira. She could have been a customer and the same result would have occurred. He blamed himself. At least he had reacted quickly. He was proud of that fact.

“There are not a lot of citizens in Syliras who have much interest in the more subtle skills required here. This city is a bit more…busy…yes, that seems an appropriate word. The city is more busy than what can be found here.” Aoren had managed to get a lot of the excess blackness scrubbed away from the surface of the worktable. He nodded somewhat content with that fact before dropping the rag into the nearby bucket. The scrubbing done he set about organizing the shelves that had been thrown into disarray by his conjured wind. He picked up one of Mistress Blackleaf’s manuscripts, very relieved that it wasn’t damaged and set it back on its proper shelf. He grabbed some papers with assorted formulae on them stacking them neatly on a nearby counter. Aoren avoided the bits of broken glass scattered about the floor and on some of the counters. While they had the means to treat such wounds in the shop he had no intention of having to do so.

When all was said and done the work room was placed back into its usual order. The books were lined on the shelves hanging on the walls. The glassware was back on the counters or in their proper cabinets. The paperwork was stacked neatly and even the ingredients were back in their proper containers. The work had taken a full bell to complete but Aoren always enjoyed doing diligent tasks. They helped to soothe his mind and ease the stress of an otherwise stressful day. Once all of it was completed he wordlessly collected the cleaning supplies from his newfound co-worker placing them back into the closet.

“Well, now that that’s done would you like a tour?”

[Altaira Readva]

That explains a lot, Altaira thought to herself, recalling the bits and pieces of greased glass and shards she'd thus come across, working her quickest to remove the more dangerous of the scattered material. Aoren had reassure her that it was very well not her fault that such a breakage had occurred, and she felt her gaze linger on him as she tried to discern the truth to the statement. The smile he gave her was not whole, she thought, though she couldn't claim she was brilliant at reading faces.

She could scarcely blame him, whatever feeling it was he had inside. Whether he blamed himself, or he blamed her, there was still a mess to be cleaned and the never changing fact that it had happened. She gnawed on her lip slightly, keeping her mind off of unpleasant things, instead throwing herself into her work and into the listening of Aoren's words. She smiled to herself at the man's words of praise upon the Mistress, glad to hear he was a man of honesty and loyalty - too many times working with those that despised their own work or employers, and took any every chance to gossip and speak ill of one another. She moved quicker with her own tasks, finding herself rather relaxed by the remedial and rather relaxed tempo of cleaning work, and elated greatly by her positive first impressions of both Aoren and Mistress Sahfri Blackleaf.

She snapped to attention when he asked of her reason to take up the art, and almost lost herself in answering. "I worked in the hospitals at Avanthal," she said unsure of just how much the man knew of the place, and not wishing to cause confusion in the mentioning of Houses, "I did some herbalism there, and though my leaving of my hometown has me seeking change, I'd rather not throw myself into a profession that is wholly alien to me. Besides, I was always far more interested in the crafting and the properties of poultices and ointments than I was in the dressing of wounds."

Aoren went on to speak of the city and tits people, and Altaira took not on the way he spoke of them, how he used far kinder terms to describe them than she feels she would have, and found herself in no real place to comment on the matter - instead picking up her pace of work to an all new level as she noted that Aoren joined her crusade against the mess that blanketed the floor and, and did her best to keep well out of his way.

Soon all seemed to be in order, and she was far too busy taking in the look of the clean, tidy room to say anything at all when Aoren took the few cleaning supplies she held, and packed them to where she assumed was away. He asked if she would like a tour, and she was almost a little too lost in taking in the look of her now orderly surroundings to respond. "That'd be marvelous," she grinned, rolling her shoulders and cracking her knuckles, unable to keep her gaze in one place in particular. Although she thought that there was little much to see, she was some what ecstatic to see was he counted as a tour, and what was of note enough to be mentioned upon the first day.

The whole place in general was like a treasure trove to her. When she travelled with the odd caravan or merchant, she often came across a wealth of herbs, lotions, and other oddities, but Stormhold Salves was more like an archive than a travelling exotic goods stall or basic needs supplier. She wagered that most, if not all, of the items were made in store, rather than merely items bought at whole sale cost like the ones in Avanthal, where only the basics were readily available in frozen place, along with the odd hardy plant that's extracts and uses were kept close to the hearts of the herbalists of the Whitevine. "Where shall we start?"

[Aoren]

“Avanthal. The city in the northern region? I have met a few of the Vantha people who hail from there but only in passing. I hear it is quite an interesting place once you can get past the cold.” He chuckled softly wiping his hands on his pants drying them of any excess moisture that might have spilled over from the bucket of dirty water. Aoren did take note that the woman’s eyes did not shift color like that of the normal Vantha people. That led him to believe that while she hailed from the wintery city she herself was not one of the Vantha. It was either that or she was exceptionally good at masking her emotions.

“You tend to see a lot of travelers pass through this shop. Most of them are sailors looking to purchase bulk orders to restock their ship’s supplies. While they wait for the orders they often like to share of the stories from other parts of the world they’ve seen. You can imagine I’ve heard some pretty tall tales.” He chuckled. At Altaira’s excitement at the tour around the shop he nodded his head gesturing for her to follow him. He lead them to the front of the store going to the right of the door walking up to the shelves. He turned to face her then gestured to the assortment of tonics, poultices, tinctures, potions and all manner of wares that the shop sold.

“As I’m sure you can see this is the front end of the shop. While it may not look like there is much order to the way things are stocked on the shelves there is a basic system in the way things work. To my right,” He gestured to his right which would have been Altaira’s left. He waved vaguely at the shelves and the variety of bottles of jars situated there. “You have balms, creams, salves, ointments and other remedies that are applied by rubbing them onto the skin.” He pointed to the shelves immediately next to the one he just pointed out.

“Next to them you have teas, tonics and tinctures or other remedies that are ingested with food or mixed into something you drink. To my left,” He made the corresponding gesture looking much like a knight who would have directed the flow of carts and pedestrians outside the shop in the Great Bazaar. “You have potions, incense and other miscellaneous items that don’t fall in line with the other shelves. With me so far?”

Whether she was or not didn’t really matter. He would be there day in and day out to help her if need be until she got the general layout of the store. Once he was done explaining that he walked behind the main counter right up to a cabinet attached to the wall. It was probably no bigger than a curio cabinet. The surface was covered in magical Glyphs no doubt designed to prevent would be thieves from being able to obtain what was within it. He placed a hand on the surface of the cabinet rubbing the smooth grain of the wood.

“This is where Mistress Blackleaf stores the potions infused with magic. When she is present in the shop the key is kept in the main counter here.” Aoren pointed to the main store clerks counter immediately in front of the cabinet. He reached beneath it pulling a small drawer open. The interior of the drawer was lined with what looked to be velvet pillows attached to the walls of the drawer in a dark green color. There was an indent in the center of the drawer where normally the key must have been kept.

“She takes the key with her whenever she leaves. It is very important that you do not try to open the cabinet with anything other than the key assigned to it. If you lose the key let Mistress Blackleaf know immediately as she will have to take the cabinet to be Knights so that they may petition Master Devandil Nightshade to realign the magic protecting it to a new key.” With that he dropped his hand from the cabinet leading her back into the elaborate workroom. The workroom was filled with philtering equipment of all sorts. There were distillation coils, a large amount of glassware, beakers, burettes, pipettes, decanters, bowls and tools of all manner to assist in the philtering craft.

“This is the workroom. I think its purpose is fairly self-evident. On the furthest wall directly ahead you’ll see an oven. That is the kiln. It is to be kept heated at all hours of the day when you are here. I will usually tend to it every hour. The fire inside of it is to be kept at a constant simmer so that the heat within it is evenly dispersed. The only time the fire inside the kiln is to be extinguished is when it is being cleaned which is every five days beginning on the first of every season. Go it?” He nodded to her with a smile. He knew he was probably talking a bit fast but from what he’d measured of the young woman so far she seemed like the type to catch on to things quickly.

“Mistress Blackleaf’s personal quarters are to our immediate right.” He pointed to a tall oak door that bore several intricate carvings making the likeness of a garden upon its surface. “We do not go in there. The door is kept locked whenever Mistress Blackleaf is not present and even when she is, don’t go in there.” He turned to face the left to a glass door with panels alternating in different colors. There was obviously sunlight streaming through that door and as he stared at it Aoren’s face softened into a smile.

“The Greenhouse.” Walking up to the door he turned the handle opening it ushering her into a very beautifully decorated and botanical foyer.

“Welcome to the atrium of the Greenhouse. This is how Mistress Blackleaf manages to keep up with the demands of the populace here in Syliras. Most of the items we stock on the shelves are made with things found in this greenhouse. I don’t think it was originally part of the shop’s design by when it became evident that her services were indeed in high demand the need to provide her with a readily available means of acquiring her supplies became more pressing.” He made a wide sweeping motion with his hands.

“The ceiling of the Greenhouse is made almost entirely of glass with panel alternating between a clear pane and frosted pane. When the Djed Storms of 512 ravaged the entire region the whole complex had to be protected by a wizard or else the whole of the greenhouse would have been lost and ruined.” He shook his head. He could only imagine the kind of setback that would have been.

“The Greenhouse is divided into eight sections.” He pointed to doors around the atrium which was in fact shaped like an octagon. “There is coniferous, tropical, desert, grassland, mountain, swamp, temperate, and a storehouse for gardening supplies.” He turned to Altaira placing his hands on his hips regarding her for a moment.

“Any questions?”

[Altaira Readva]

Altaira chuckled at the mention of Avanthal's greatness once the cold is ignored, before listening on to his own experiences with those of other regions. She wondered if she herself had been mistaken for one of them, though it was not like such a thing was rare. Her eyes were a bright golden-amber, though there was somewhat of a strange roundness to them, and she was born with the typical thick, dark hair of the people. When she grew up, people often thought she was just a Vantha of the Whitewine who simply had a rather stable emotions. Of course, most realised their folly as she outgrew even the oldest of the other children of the hold in several short years.

Quickly the tour was in full swing, and she found that she quite liked the sound of Aoren's voice, paying no mind to the speed and fullness of what he spoke, or the fact that she had to concentrate especially to quite understand everything. She took note of how things were lain out, admittedly not expecting it to be set out in such a thoughtful manner, and finding that things made perfect sense in placement in retrospect. She wasn't sure how she'd do remembering things raw, so she focused on remembering the key concepts, and where familiar items were stored to use as a reference points.

They powered onwards, and there was a moment when Aoren paused and asked how she was fairing, to which she gave little more than a hopeful smile and a dizzied nod. For the most part, she had no real problems, but she could tell it'd take a few trips up and down the aisles to properly get used to them. He returned to the front counter, then and laid a hand on a grand, heavily protected, cabinet. He stated the purpose of the colossal thing, before drawing her attention to the whereabouts of the key should Mistress Blackleaf be in store. There was a moment when she was confused, surprised that she was privy so early in her time working there. Of course, there was no problem with her knowing, trust wise, but she was still taken aback by the gesture, and felt a weight of responsibility shouldered to herself.

Aoren spoke more of the key and its purpose, laying upon her heavy warnings of its proper use, and what to do in situations that the key is misplaced. She quickly found herself nodding like an inexperienced child, and mentally scolded herself. He then moved on to the backroom, giving it the more practical name of the 'work room.' He pointed out the kiln to the back of the room, and she wondered how she managed to miss such an integral part of the layout. She took note on how often it was to be tended to, and that Aoren himself often saw to it. There was extra information passed about its needs and general running, and Aoren once again asked if she 'got it.' "Yeah," she said, words rolling from her lungs. It was a lot to take in, that was for sure, but nothing so much that she would be clueless in a bell's time, she just direly required a moment at some point to process the information.

The next bit that she learned of was Mistress Blackleaf's own quarters, to which she understood several things: don't go there when she's not there, don't go there when she is there, and just don't go in there. She pressed her lips into a fine line, before turning her gaze to her guide, watching his expression practically melt, before following his line of sight to what looked like a greenhouse. Her lips curved to a smile far more pronounced than Aoren's, and she had to ball her hands into fists as she forced herself to allow him to enter first.

She half listened to him speak of the nature of the area, gaining the general idea that pretty much all is home grown, zoning out more in the section where he spoke of the room's glass roof, though she couldn't help the cursory glance she gave above, seeking more or less the position of the sun, and which sections of the foyer that was bathed in the most sunlight. When ever Aoren accented his words with movement, she felt her gaze sharply return to him, if partially out of courtesy, mostly because she found that there was often reason to such body language. That being said, the moment he began mention of layout of the room, her attention was wholly on his words and gestures, taking most note on what was where within the atrium. "This is... this is so... Wow," she trailed, eyes darting from section to section, not bothering on taking too great a note of the storehouse.

Although the place was nothing in comparison to the greenhouses in Avanthal in terms of sheer size, the natural feel of the place had her enthralled. In Avanthal there was no simple beauty, no tucked away oasis, it was a wonder one could focus enough to properly tend to the plants, little lone admire the look of the place. It took her a moment more to realise that she'd been asked a question, and immediately snapped up to attention. "What? Oh, uh, no. No, I'm good. Just a little," She gave a bit of a giggle, her gaze lingering on the tropical section, recalling how much those at Whitevine complained about having to cultivate them, though noting how they seemed to grow far easier here.

"I didn't think that there would be anything like this. I thought that perhaps you bought in bulk from locals or there was a greenhouse elsewhere, perhaps some window-sill planters... but not this." She looked at Aoren like he should completely understand, before scratching her head and mildly regretting her outburst. Her next words were soft, and said more to herself than any other. "I am so glad I'm here." She took a final glance, before recalling her manners, smiling broadly as she announced her gratitude. "Thank you, by the way, thank you so much. This place is beyond what I could have hoped to imagine." She then dipped her head slightly, "This may be a little bit late, but I look forward to working with you."

[Aoren]

Aoren clasped his hands behind his back watching Altaira take all of it in. He had to admit that she seemed a little overwhelmed by all of it but he would be there to help her sort through the finer points of it all. When she finally composed herself answering his question he nodded.

“I know I spoke a little fast but you don’t need to worry, things will fall into place soon enough. It’s all very easy to understand once you get into the thick of things.” Glancing around Aoren had to agree with her. There weren’t many people who would expect the inner compartments of the Stormhold Salves shop to hold a greenhouse. From the exterior it didn’t look like the shop took up much space to begin with but the fact that it was situated so closely to the outer walls allowed for such innovative architecture.

“It is one of Syliras’s many hidden wonders. There are a great many interesting things kept locked away or secret within the walls of the Fortress City of Peace. More than people would think.” He walked up to one of the glass doors placing a hand on the panels running his fingers over the glass. Aoren knew better than most what lay in the dark corners of the Ctiy of Peace. While it was a bastion of civilization and truly a place where order, justice and goodness could thrive…

“Where shine the brightest of lights, there are also the darkest of shadows.” He shook his head as the thoughts passed through his mind. He’d been taught that lesson a long time ago. Turning back to his co-worker he nodded.

“You are welcome. Mistress Blackleaf is not a harsh employer but she expects a fine dedication to the work she provides. We have to be. The smallest of errors can yield the most disastrous of results in our line of work.” He gestured back toward the work room. “As I’m certain you’ve realized.” A small smile touched Aoren’s features but it did not reach his eyes.

“We have all manner of plants here. Most of the plants are of the more common variety but there are some exotic and more rare ones in the proper sections as well. There are not many times where we have to specifically acquire the most difficult of plants as the average person doesn’t require anything they’re used to make.” The young man walked back to the entrance to the greenhouse. It was beginning to grow uncomfortably hot in the room for Aoren. While he could stay in the elevated temperature if he needed to, especially if he were searching for a particular plant among the sections, he didn’t like to spend too long in the heat.

Stepping back into the work room he left the door open so that Altaira could follow him through at her own leisure. Once she was back in he leaned against the work table folding his arms across his chest.

“I can tell you from experience that one of the first questions that Mistress Blackleaf is going to ask you is what is it that you want to accomplish while working with her. She says “working with her” as opposed to “working for her”. You’ll find that holds true. A lot of what we do here requires just as much work and diligence as what she does.” He gestured to the work room.

“I don’t think she’ll be having you do a lot of the actual work with the philters that we make here. Not to start with. The initial lessons are focused mainly on familiarizing oneself with the basics of herbalism and the multiple uses of general wellness herbs.” He pushed himself off the worktable gently then walked up to one of the shelves upon which rested the various manuscripts kept at the shop.

“You’ll find a great deal of resources here. There are books on herbs…” He brought a hand up, his right hand actually revealing a peculiar looking tattoo or at least what would appear to be a tattoo on the back of it. The shape was that of a Lily. It shimmered in the light catching the eye and evoking a sense of clarity to those who rest their eyes upon it. “…you’ll also find books on their most common medicinal uses. There are tomes on anatomy, physiology and manuscripts on medicine as well.”

Aoren took down one of the books setting it on the counter. He turned back around eyeing Altaira giving her a smile as he did.

“Mistress Blackleaf doesn’t just deal with normal philters though. She is also the resident Poisoncrafter of Syliras though she only makes poisons in very, very small doses and usually only in larger quantities at the request of the Knights.” He shrugged his shoulders running a hand through his sandy colored hair.

“You can imagine the kind of trouble that she would get into if she fashioned poisons for just anyone. The knights keep a very close eye on the stock of the store because of that fact.” The young man suddenly snapped his fingers as if recalling something important.

“That reminds me!” He gestured for her to follow him leading them both back to the front of the shop. Going to a cabinet he opened it taking down a very heavy, thick, leather bound tome. He set it on the counter top. It dropped with a heavy thud. He reached into the cabinet withdrawing another book exactly like it setting it beside the first.

“These are the store ledgers. Everything that is sold, requested by customers, created, stocked and brought into the shop is recorded in these. These records have to be very detailed and very well kept. The Knights send someone to come inventory, take stock and make sure that we aren’t doing anything we shouldn’t once every season.” He set a hand on one of the books. “Just…be polite. Answer whatever questions he may have for you truthfully and don’t make up an answer if you don’t know it. The inspection usually takes place on the first day of Spring. The Knight then takes one of these ledgers so that the Knights can copy it for their archives. It is usually returned to us by the tenth day of Spring at which point in time it will have to be updated with all of the recent purchases to match the other one.”

Aoren chuckled softly rubbing the back of his head.

“I think that’s enough bogging you down with information. Would you like to see how some of these items are made?” He tilted his head toward the shelves bearing the products sold at the store.

[Altaira Readva]

"Other's Speech" | 'Altaira's Thougts' | "Altaira's Speech"

Altaira took Aoren's words on the secrets of Syliras closer to heart than was probably expected of her, with the kelvic's interest piqued almost too quickly at their mention. She keenly regarded for a moment, noting the slightest shake of his head and the look he bore when he turned and his gaze fell upon her. “You are welcome. Mistress Blackleaf is not a harsh employer but she expects a fine dedication to the work she provides. We have to be. The smallest of errors can yield the most disastrous of results in our line of work.” He gave a movement towards the workroom, and Altaira's line of sight quickly found what her co worker was referring to, nodding her head slowly as he made a final comment on that matter, "As I’m certain you’ve realized." He gave a small smile, and Altaira gave him one back, but not without noting the difference in authenticity.

As quickly as it had shifted away, focus lingered upon the plantlife of the place once more, “We have all manner of plants here. Most of the plants are of the more common variety but there are some exotic and more rare ones in the proper sections as well. There are not many times where we have to specifically acquire the most difficult of plants as the average person doesn't require anything they’re used to make.” Altaira's gaze followed him as he towards the exit of the green house, and she left herself hesitant to follow. There was a look to him that she assumed meant that she could follow at her own pace, and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lungs as she gave the room a farewell look.

'I wonder if, perhaps, they'd perhaps allow me stretch me wings in here some time,' She thought, finding the warm temperature of the place very much to her liking. Of course, she reminded herself, it's have to be in off hours. Having promised herself to ask such permission to Mistress Blackleaf, she turned her on heel and made her way back towards the work room, closing the door carefully as she entered.

“I can tell you from experience that one of the first questions that Mistress Blackleaf is going to ask you is what is it that you want to accomplish while working with her. She says “working with her” as opposed to “working for her”. You’ll find that holds true. A lot of what we do here requires just as much work and diligence as what she does.” She gave a quick look about the room, focusing most on the vague directions that Aoren sent her sights to. “I don’t think she’ll be having you do a lot of the actual work with the philters that we make here. Not to start with. The initial lessons are focused mainly on familiarizing oneself with the basics of herbalism and the multiple uses of general wellness herbs.”

Altaira almost sighed in relief, glad to escape being thrown into the deep end right away, and that she was not about to start with absolutely no knowledge in herbalism what so ever. She then watched him towards the shelves, talking along as he did so, “You’ll find a great deal of resources here. There are books on herbs…” reaching towards some manuscript, showing off the marking upon his right hand. She gave it a hard look, a strange feeling welling within her stomach, and giving a strange lightness to her mind. She let herself take in every detail of the marking, from its shimmer in the light to intricacy of the flower's bloom.

She leaned forward slightly, rocking on the balls of her feet as she struggled for a better view. She could hardly complain about her kelvic eyesight, already seeing far better than the average human, but there was the oddest feeling that was stirred from the look of that beautiful little lily, and she was hit with the desire to see it shine in every light. In a quick movement, her view was obstructed, “…you’ll also find books on their most common medicinal uses. There are tomes on anatomy, physiology and manuscripts on medicine as well.”

She threw her attention onto other things, the sudden look and smile Aoren threw her having her feel as though she'd been caught in an act of misconduct, and her gaze was quickly buried into the book that was set onto the counter, a flush reddening her cheeks. “Mistress Blackleaf doesn’t just deal with normal philters though. She is also the resident Poisoncrafter of Syliras though she only makes poisons in very, very small doses and usually only in larger quantities at the request of the Knights.” She nodded briskly, biding herself to return to normal colour as she engrossed herself further into what Aoren was saying, her head remaining somewhat low as she kept her sights upon the book. “You can imagine the kind of trouble that she would get into if she fashioned poisons for just anyone. The knights keep a very close eye on the stock of the store because of that fact.”

The mention of the knights checking in was more than enough to stir her attention, with the kelvic recalling the odd ways in which Syliras was run. He then snapped his fingers, and Altaira almost jumped out of her skin - had she been in a place she was less comfortable in, it would have been her first instinct to strip and switch forms. “That reminds me!” He said, far louder than anything he'd thus spoken, before making one of his now more common gestures for her to follow.

The route they took lead them to the front of the store, and Aoren ventured into a sturdy looking cupboard and retreived one of the largest leather bound books she'd ever seen. Which was hardly a big claim, really. Most of the tomes and books of Avanthal were thin and new, but far greater in number. Then, he took out another, and she couldn't help the slight gap of her jaw. “These are the store ledgers. Everything that is sold, requested by customers, created, stocked and brought into the shop is recorded in these. These records have to be very detailed and very well kept. The Knights send someone to come inventory, take stock and make sure that we aren’t doing anything we shouldn’t once every season.”

She let her gaze stayed glued to the ledgers for a while, and thanked the Winter Goddess that she'd chosen to focus her learning on the common tongue over Vani as a child. She shuddered at the thought of having to navigate her way through such a tome otherwise, and thought it best not to dwell upon how difficult her travels would have been. He then set a hand upon the books, and she felt a certain dismay in seeing that it was not the one with the marking, before berating herself for her thoughts. 'Perhaps I could maybe ask about it-'

“Just…be polite. Answer whatever questions he may have for you truthfully and don’t make up an answer if you don’t know it. The inspection usually takes place on the first day of Spring. The Knight then takes one of these ledgers so that the Knights can copy it for their archives. It is usually returned to us by the tenth day of Spring at which point in time it will have to be updated with all of the recent purchases to match the other one.” Aoren gave a gentle laugh, and Altaira's gaze snapped up to his expression, almost grimacing as she fought another flush. 'If you fluster every time you think you've been caught thinking about that damned mark, then stop looking for it'

“I think that’s enough bogging you down with information. Would you like to see how some of these items are made?" Altaira grinned at the thought, and nodded her head thrice, before culling her look of dire excitement to something more contained and pleasant.

The look only lasted a few mere moments, before her own cheek got the better of her. "That depends," She began, not able to contain the smirk that quickly played on her lips, "Is it going to be something simple enough that there is little to no fire and explosive danger? Because to be frightfully honest, I completely understand that failure and trying again are both important parts of the learning process... but I'm not too fussed on the idea of another large scale clean up."

She wasn't too sure how he would take the joke and was quick to ensure that he knew that that was all it was. "I'm kidding, of course," She said, a heavy breath leaving her, "Well, for the most part - I trust you not to make the same mistake twice in a single day, but if something does explode, then you should probably know that I'll most like jump out of my skin and fly out of there before you quite know what's happened." She nodded to herself, then, and shortly wondered how much Aoren knew of her. The application pamphlet she'd given to the employment office contained her details such as her race - though if he knew, she thought, he did a splendid job of either not caring or pretending that he oblivious.

"I really would love to take up your offer, by the way, especially given it seems we still have some chimes or bells until Mistress Blackleaf returns, and such a thing sounds far more productive than things such as merely awaiting a customer." Another thought occurred to her then, and she frowned at him, "Unless you have other tasks you are required to perform in her absence..." She let her words trail, trying to make it clear without saying that she was merely trying to be responsible, and sincerely hoped that he was free to demonstrate or show her what ever it was he had in mind.

oocGah, there will be errors in there, loootttsss of errors - I'm sorry but sleep is about to take me :S
I won't be able to respond for a week due to vacation, by the way! But I'll reply as promptly as possible when I return! [Or before I leave, if you post another within the next 10 hours ]
I feel like I should mention that I really have no idea where I'm going to go with the whole fluster thing. Embarrassed to be caught out doing something she thinks she shouldn't? Gah. Sleep. I'm going to sleep.

[Aoren]

“Haha, no need to worry. I won’t risk it again. One explosion in a day is quite enough for me.” He chuckled picking up the ledgers placing them back into the cabinets they belonged in. He most certainly was not going to make anything else that would explode, burn or cause a huge mess. The little fiasco the both of them had been forced to clean up not but a few chimes earlier was certainly enough for his liking.

“No, I think I’m going to show you how to make something a lot less volatile.” Turning away from the counter Aoren went back into the workroom. He glanced over his shoulder to see whether or not Altaira was following him. When he saw that she was he motioned for her to take up a place near the worktable. Without much explanation Aoren went about the workroom collecting pieces of equipment he would need to make what he had in mind. He grabbed a few beakers, a few pipettes, he positioned the braziers, he arranged a mortar and pestle and grabbed one of the clean buckets of water he always retrieved in the mornings as his first task when he came into work.

“Just a note—“ He spoke as he assembled the necessary equipment. “Water is one of the most important tools in Philtering, Herbalism and Medicine. It’s used in practically everything we make as the universal base for the craft. Every morning the first thing I do is collect three or four buckets of clean water. I’ll have to show you the well when we’re finished in here.” Aoren finished assembling the philtering equipment. He moved each object carefully but his grip was always firm and purposeful. He stopped on occasion to think for a brief moment but for the most part he wasted very little of his movements. Going to the shelves holding the manuscripts he pulled one down sifting through its pages as he walked back to the table. When he’d found the page he was looking for he read it aloud.

“Chamayo Tonic. A bland tonic made from soaked Chamayo seeds; a plant common to temperate areas of Mizahar. Used to promote mental clarity by reducing the affects of dizziness, confusion and memory loss. Symptoms are not cured, only diminished.” Setting the book down on the surface of the table he slid it over to his co-worker so that she could read through the recipe as well as the step involved in crafting the remedy.

“One of the things you need to remember about Chamayo Tonic is that the effects from a single dose last a full twenty-four hours. Multiple doses in a single day won’t increase the effectiveness of the tonic. It would just be wasteful. Now then as the recipe states the tonic is made from soaking the seeds of the Chamayo plant. There is a lot more involved with the process than that though.” He chuckled gesturing for her to watch closely.

“One of the first things that you should do when beginning the process of creating a tonic, potion or basically anything made in Philtering is to purify the water that will be used in making it. You do this by taking charcoal infused cheesecloth…” He picked up the cloth in question along with a piece of wicker twine. “You wrap the cloth around the nozzle of this container here.” Aoren picked up an alembic. It was a pear shaped container made of glass that was situated on a ceramic brazier.

“As you can see there are already several tube attached to the main nozzle. This is so that multiple containers can be filled simultaneously in order to help speed up the production process. Otherwise we’d spend days, if not weeks preparing orders placed at the shop.” He removed the cap of the container then fastened the cheesecloth over the top.

“The charcoal draws the impurities out of the water being evaporated from the heat source as it passes through the cloth. This entire process is call Absorption.” Aoren situated the alembic back onto the ceramic brazier position the neck of the container just beneath this great glass coil. He walked to the other end where sat what looked to be a large empty decanter also atop a brazier. He removed the top pouring some water into it.

“The large spiral coil you see is called exactly that, a coil. A distillation coil if we’re going to be precise. The water vapors pass through the coil to aid in the purification process. This container—“ He tapped the decanter. “Is heated so that the water inside evaporates. Just like the alembic it has a charcoal treated cheesecloth fastened over it to begin the preliminary purification.” He glanced at Altaira. He knew this was a lot to take in but he had confidence that she could grasp it once he actually got to work.

“I know it all sounds like a heck of a lot of work but once it starts you’ll find that a lot of what our work entails is just tending to the process itself. Once it begins you just have to keep a watchful eye on things to make sure…haha…explosions and the like don’t happen.” He gave her a small smile. Without giving it much thought he conjured just a small amount of liquid Res into his hand dividing it into two definitive layers so that he could maintain control. Igniting the outer layer a pale blue flame now burned brightly in the palm of his hand. He passed it over the brazier where sat the container full of water. Aoren then closed his palm allowing the fire to dissipate and the remnants of his Res to flow back into his body once more. He didn’t pay his small display of magic any mind then turned to Altaira regarding her carefully.

“Now then, the description of the Chamayo plant is very clearly outlined in the book there. Read it. Look at the sketch depicting it and see if you can find it in the proper section of the greenhouse.” Aoren nodded for her to be off in search of the plant once she read through the description carefully. While she was looking for the plant he would tend to most of the preliminary work involved in creating the tonic.