12, Fall 519 AV
Vinegar smelt gods-awful. Baelin didn’t care how many uses you could find for it, none of that changed the fact that―to him―it was absolutely rank. Expression pinched in his effort to suppress a grimace, Baelin finished pouring more vinegar into a bucket of sand. The mixture bubbled as he poured, the stink nearly overwhelming.
Nathaniel once teased him for how badly he reacted to vinegar. Said he could barely smell it; that Baelin was overreacting; that the whole revulsion to it was absurd in the first place. But Nathaniel could go shove it, because even just the barest whiff of diluted vinegar was enough to repulse Baelin.
Breathing shallowly, Baelin set down the container of vinegar and grabbed a stick. He held the back of his forearm up against his nose―an attempt to cover the stink with his own scent as he hovered over the vat―and dug the stick into the sand at the bottom. Working quickly, Baelin stirred the sand up, trying to get a bit of a suspended mixture. Eventually satisfied that it was probably as good as he was going to get it, Baelin dropped a rag in the bucket and poked it with his stick. He should probably just reach in there, swirl the rag by hand in the sand and vinegar mix, and then have a good abrasive cloth to work with. But the stench…
Nope. This was fine. The stick was a perfectly acceptable solution, and then he wouldn’t have to literally plunge his hand into a vat of vinegar. Even with gloves on, that was just too much. Baelin swirled the rag a bit more in the mix, trying to pick up as much sand as possible, before he finally fished it back out.
Alright, now he had to man up. No more avoiding it because it had that acidic stink to it. Baelin checked one last time that his gloves didn’t have any holes in them, and then plucked the soaked rag off the stick. Entrenched with sand and dripping vinegar, the rag was great for scrubbing rust off. And considering that they all lived off the ocean’s coast, rust was a frequent and never-ending problem.
Several bucklers had been delivered to the Knight’s Armory, in need of rust treatment. And Baelin half-suspected that he was tasked with this job precisely because he hated it so much. Steeling himself, Baelin held the buckler in one gloved hand and the rag in another. The buckler itself wasn’t too far gone; the rust was just beginning to form as little dots sprinkled across the surface. With any luck, Baelin could get it all off quickly and then move to the next.
Baelin folded the rag over so that he’d have more control, and then began scrubbing. He worked quickly, rubbing sand against steel and leaving tracks of vinegar and loose grains in his wake. Some of the spots came off easily, but others remained stubbornly scoured into the surface. Baelin worked on the easy spots first before he really started to dig in.
Vinegar smelt gods-awful. Baelin didn’t care how many uses you could find for it, none of that changed the fact that―to him―it was absolutely rank. Expression pinched in his effort to suppress a grimace, Baelin finished pouring more vinegar into a bucket of sand. The mixture bubbled as he poured, the stink nearly overwhelming.
Nathaniel once teased him for how badly he reacted to vinegar. Said he could barely smell it; that Baelin was overreacting; that the whole revulsion to it was absurd in the first place. But Nathaniel could go shove it, because even just the barest whiff of diluted vinegar was enough to repulse Baelin.
Breathing shallowly, Baelin set down the container of vinegar and grabbed a stick. He held the back of his forearm up against his nose―an attempt to cover the stink with his own scent as he hovered over the vat―and dug the stick into the sand at the bottom. Working quickly, Baelin stirred the sand up, trying to get a bit of a suspended mixture. Eventually satisfied that it was probably as good as he was going to get it, Baelin dropped a rag in the bucket and poked it with his stick. He should probably just reach in there, swirl the rag by hand in the sand and vinegar mix, and then have a good abrasive cloth to work with. But the stench…
Nope. This was fine. The stick was a perfectly acceptable solution, and then he wouldn’t have to literally plunge his hand into a vat of vinegar. Even with gloves on, that was just too much. Baelin swirled the rag a bit more in the mix, trying to pick up as much sand as possible, before he finally fished it back out.
Alright, now he had to man up. No more avoiding it because it had that acidic stink to it. Baelin checked one last time that his gloves didn’t have any holes in them, and then plucked the soaked rag off the stick. Entrenched with sand and dripping vinegar, the rag was great for scrubbing rust off. And considering that they all lived off the ocean’s coast, rust was a frequent and never-ending problem.
Several bucklers had been delivered to the Knight’s Armory, in need of rust treatment. And Baelin half-suspected that he was tasked with this job precisely because he hated it so much. Steeling himself, Baelin held the buckler in one gloved hand and the rag in another. The buckler itself wasn’t too far gone; the rust was just beginning to form as little dots sprinkled across the surface. With any luck, Baelin could get it all off quickly and then move to the next.
Baelin folded the rag over so that he’d have more control, and then began scrubbing. He worked quickly, rubbing sand against steel and leaving tracks of vinegar and loose grains in his wake. Some of the spots came off easily, but others remained stubbornly scoured into the surface. Baelin worked on the easy spots first before he really started to dig in.
