Perfume...or Poison?

[Vanari]

OOC :

continued from here

Fall, Day 81, 513 AV Vanari watched the last of Syna's rays sink beneath the horizon in bitterness. She always felt this way after a day wasted on the ferry; gods only knew why it had to go as slow as it did. Eight bells--eight bells!--sacrificed to the mind-numbingly, unstimulating endeavor of crossing one lousy lake. Ah, well, at least she had plenty to show for it. The Vantha walked by her new accomplice's side, more willing to trust him not to make a grab for the vines when she least expected, yet not wholly comfortable enough to let her guard down completely. She had handed the bundle over to Verennia, reasoning that the girl was probably much faster and wilier than she. There wasn't much explanation required, only that the contents were very important. She simply hoped she had enough of the girl's loyalty so that if Nolan tried to pull anything, he would have one hell of a chase to deal with. Sure, she might be dead and all, but at least she'd have the last laugh...maybe. Sort of. Probably not. The former slave kept close by Vanari's side, always one or two steps behind, but no more and no less. Poor girl, she was probably still trying to come to grips with the violent and sudden way her world had flipped itself upside down. Or, rather, how the two grown ups she was now traveling with had flipped it upside down, complete with threats of castration and open exploitation. As soon as they'd entered the city and passed by the first fires lit for the approaching evening, Vanari fished out the slave documents from her pockets and tossed them in the flames. No word or sound of protest came from the girl, only wide eyed amazement and a sort of dazed look about her that subsisted long after the deed had been done. To the Vantha, it was a vast improvement to looking like a small animal cornered in a rusty cage, so she let the girl cope however she saw fit. Unable to think of a suitable subject for conversation after several chimes of silence, Vanari chose to ask instead, "Soo...why do you like to work with poison, Mister Nolan?"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar raised an eyebrow when The Vantha woman handed the bundle of vines to this little girl, Verennia. He was surprised to see her immediately perch the sizable coil of vines on top of her head, stabilized by her hands. He leaned toward Ari, "Not that hot water has probably been a very common element in her life, but be sure she washes in cool water the first time after putting those vines down. If we get all the way back to the shop before that happens, I expect you do see to that." He didn't really expect her to carry that bundle the whole way back to the shop, but didn't want her underfoot with her hands dusted by a toxin like that.

When she tossed the slave documents into the fire, he started, cringing slightly and looking around for prying eyes. "Are you crazy?" he snapped, quietly but with force, "You can't just go burning those things up in public like that! There's a protocol for giving a slave freedom. I know we didn't follow the rules, nor do I expect that 'fat-ass back there is going to make a fuss. but you could have at least waited until we were in the privacy of the shop."

He looked around once more, relaxing as no one appeared to have taken any notice of the deed. He did a bit of a double take when he saw Verennia looking up at him, her eyes squinting suspiciously at him. He smiled uncomfortably down at her, but her suspicions didn't ease any, though she did face back the way they were going. He didn't think that the Vantha woman even noticed. Slowly, Verennia appeared to slip into a state of acceptance. He had not, though. He didn't need some little girl getting in his way.

But he thought Ariella would probably be willing to keep her out of the way. She had a childlike simplicity about her. It as not that Ariella was "slow", she just had no more experience dealing with the complexities of a human culture than a child did. He rolled his eyes, wondering how annoying it might be if Ariella got all "girly" over the perfume. He did not want her thinking this was going to be a regular part of his work in the shop.

Ari asked him why he liked to work with poisons. There were so many answers to that. The feeling of a job well done, the research and development, the discoveries, the fact that he was good at it. The sense of hidden power. More than one kind of power, too. Take mages for example. For the most part, they specialized in one type of power. Inoadar had myriad ways to inflict an opponent. There were even a few beneficial effects from some of his serums. But it was the danger as well, the knowledge that he was working with lethal components, releasing and enhancing their effects into truly alarming results. That he was often as close as the thickness of a glove from death.

But he doubted she would understand this. She had used an apparent devotion to some god or goddess called "Ionu" to cow that fat moron earlier. He decided to take that tact. "I have always been in the business of building strength. Strength of all kinds. Muscular strength, mental strength, strength of spirit and resolve. Individual strength, group strength, community strength. Strength against debilitating effects, like fear, pain, disease...and toxins."

He looked at her directly with this last remark. he was setting up the beakers, attaching fittings to chamber bulbs and cylinders he already owned. "I would give you my devotion to Rhysol as a reason, but the fact is, I was already enamored of lab work and chemistry before I ever came here. I find the coaxing of powerful properties from mundane materials quite satisfying. But Vayt would be more to be recognized as the patron of this sort of work."

He continued working a slide pump in a tube attached on the side of a large cylindrical chamber until a rubber valve on the side reacted with tremors to the slightest movement of the slide. He then clipped a rubber cap with a tube running from it over the valve. He sat back, eying Ari for signs of distaste. "Working with these substances has made me particularly resistant to all sorts of chemical taint. Not that I'm actually immune, but I can handle a light dose of many of these with little true debilitation. I feel this makes one of the stronger people, culled from the weak per Vayt's design. This is His purpose in manifesting His presence in the forms of diseases, venoms and toxins. To rid the world of the weak. I not only agree with this course, I grow stronger by doing so."

[Vanari]

Her first instinct was suspicion, but Vanari wrestled it down to hear what Nolan had to say. Cold water? She slid a glance down at the girl, wondering if she had been mistaken to let the child hold something supposedly so toxic. But, then again, Nolan's advice didn't seem to merit any urgency, so there wasn't a need to outright panic. She would definitely keep a closer eye out on Verennia, though. Just in case. By the time they reached the shop it was well into the evening. Despite the nature of Nolan's expertise, Vanari felt grateful to be surrounded by walls with Syna's disappearance, wary as ever of the dark alleys and thieves and Stryfe that made up Ravok's nightstcape. The man wasted no time as he transitioned from casual to business mode. He continued with his lengthy explanations as he set up his equipment, which included so many tubes and cylinders and valves it made the Vantha's vision blur a little. Verennia, on the other hand, was watching raptly in quiet fascination. Her once dull, sunken eyes were now alight with curiosity, flickering here and there as Nolan went through motions and steps that seemed wildly complicated to Vanari but only second nature to himself. There was still a thirst for learning in this girl that hadn't been beaten out. Good. It would make finding her a place to take up apprenticeship all the easier. Vanari felt a twinge of guilt at this thought; keeping the girl for herself as a student would have been wondrous. She imagined Verennia excelling at everything she did--carving, busking, maybe even some acrobatics if Ria cared to humor them with a lesson. Ah, to have a prodigy of her own! Alas, such things were highly impractical for a child, especially one living in Ravok. Verennia would need a stable source of shelter or income. Taking her along on journeys was out of the question...sort of. Vanari could barely keep herself out of trouble, let alone handle a youngin' more bone than meat who had been forced all this time to go and do where she was told. No, the child ought to have a chance at shaping her own life. That much she deserved. Something in Nolan's tone brought her out of her reverie. She blinked and noticed his curious stare, as though he was waiting for a reaction of some kind as he went on to explain his rather intriguing tolerance for toxic material. "There's sound logic in that," she nodded, growing more and more interested in this god "Vayt" he had mentioned multiple times. "No objections here to being stronger in this crazy, jumbled world we live in. I think it's safe to say some people really do deserve a bit of poison in their soup. Literally. But, to each their own. I've never been good with this sort of thing, so I just stick to my carvings and stories." Realizing he may need the actual ingredients soon, she unshouldered her pack and began pulling out the various herbs, setting them out in a neat row on an empty desk. Beside her, Verennia finally unglued her gaze long enough to tug at the Vantha's tunic, pointing at the bundle of vines. Vanari nudged her chin towards Nolan and the girl nodded once before turning around to offer up the plants. "Speaking of which...so what's the story behind this god, Vayt, of yours?" This could be a very, very long night, Vanari reasoned. No harm in trying to make the time go by quicker.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar was sorry to see that Ariella was not here. He had hoped she could go and...play...or something...with the little girl. He had a genuine apprehension that the little nuisance was going to become a big nuisance. Like a corpse on the floor, covered with contact poisons she's spilled all over herself. He hdn't bothered to explain that heat was what released the toxin in the vine the girl had carried back to the shop.

When Ari had stepped up to the lit fire and burned the slave holder document, Inoadar had thought the girl was going to flop the bundle too close to the flame. It was one of the reasons he had reacted as he had. He thought he'd covered it pretty well, claiming concern about a violation of ownership protocol. And it wasn't that his stated concern was not valid. He was just glad now that the girl hadn't ignited the vines in such a public place.

But now, he needed to make clear that the vines did not need to actually burn to release toxin. It was far more potent that way, but it could still make her sick just washing the residue off her hands with hot water. Ari's question about Vayt seemed well timed. "Well, for one thing, I consider Rhysol to be my god. But Vayt is his associate. They both arrange for unpleasant surprises for the unwary, favoring those who are prepared. Vayt's domain, according to what I have been told, is poisons, diseases, infections...drought...such things as these. These are the surprises he sends our way. If you are strong you will survive. Sometimes you will have to sacrifice someone weak to ensure your survival. If you have the ability...the resolve to do that...then you have earned the right to do it. There are those that feel we must all "pull together" and help each other survive. I disagree...my agreement with Vayt's principles...Well, Rhysol's really, but Vayt is in line with them...tells me that I do not owe it to those that need my help to weaken myself for their sake...then we might just both die."

"Instead, I work with the very essence of Vayt's afflictions, and I grow stronger against them. I have been stricken many times by these substances, and they affect me less and less each time. It is the same principle that many antitoxins are based on." He lightened up a little then, "Some day, my blood may be valuable as a general tonic against poison. As for His "mythical origins", They say he was born when the concentrated suffering of the world became manifest in a sentient form, I suppose at the height of the Valterian. But I don't know, I would assume that he's been around longer than that. There has always been disease and blight. Uncleaned wounds have always become infected. Not just since the Valterian."

He gestured to his stockroom, where a variety of raw and processed materials stood in ordered fashion. "Every one of those roots and spines and fungi have been poisonous a lot longer than just since the Valterian." He looked over towards Ari's bag. "And every one of yours has smelled that strong just as long. Get them out and let's see what we're dealing with."

Ari got out a selection of foliage. There were the green pouches she'd collected from the "vendor" back in the market. Those were supposedly already dried. He was more interested in the flowers, leaves and shrubs she set out. The shrub was a general reddish color with fat leaves that looked to need pressing. The flowers were already giving off a scent and Inoadar could well imagine they only needed to be rendered down to the concentrated essence.

He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Verennla scoping out the entire assemblage of equipment he had arrayed on the end of the worktable. Her genuine interest sparked a strange pride in him. He didn't know if he was proud of her and her unrestrained curiosity, or if he was proud of himself for having chosen such an enthralling field of endeavor.

"Well, since I have not worked with ANY of these materials, we had best not commit our entire supply to my trial and error process. So we need to decide which we will start with." He looked at Verennia, "So which do you think, girl? Do we boil up the flowers first, or do we squash the bushes?"

[Vanari]

Vanari watched the girl hand over the vines as she set down all the various herbs and plants she had accumulated that day. For a moment, the vines seemed to travel a bit too close to the burners, and Nolan's earlier words came back to haunt her with unnerving trepidation. If the mere heat of hot water could activate the toxins, then she dreaded to think what actual fire would do. With the vines safely transferred as promised, she beckoned Verennia over for a moment, taking the girl's hand in hers. Vanari led them both to a basin nearby and showed her how to properly wash her hands with cool water, explicitly emphasizing the avoidance of heat after handling the vines. The girl blanched at first at how deadly the plants were and how disastrous things could have been, but Vanari calmly assured her no harm had been done, and that they were ridding themselves of the residue now. See? Just a gentle wash with a little soap and they were good to go. The Vantha had already rinsed her hands before she had handled all those pouches and packets of herbs, but she went through the process once more, just to ease the girl's nerves and provide a visual demonstration. Once they were done, Verennia seemed much more relieved and, emboldened a little by her newfound freedom--both from toxins and from the constant view of the back of her former master's hand--peered at Nolan's equipment with undisguised interest. All the while, Vanari listened closely as Nolan explained the intricacies of Vayt's relations and similarities with Rhysol, as well as the poisoner's own personal take on the gods' principles of survival and strength. It was endlessly fascinating, she found, the hand that deities played within the vast realms of Mizahar, and learning of all their passions and hatreds was an endeavor the Vantha felt sure no one could complete within a human lifetime. All the same, she committed as much as she could to memory, especially Nolan's explanations of how valuable his blood would one day become. She knew one could overcome a cold or illness and become less susceptible to it. This was commonplace in conditions as brutal as those in Taldera, where only the strong thrived and the sick or weak tended not to--that is, not without intensive care from family and community members. Ordinarily, when children fell sick they either picked themselves back up afterwards or...didn't. Most would, however, since Morwen's favor was so generously bestowed upon her people, and thanks to their goddess the Vanthas as a whole were rather good at the art of survival. Vanari supposed she was rather lucky; she'd never been granted a mark and had trouble with the frigid environment all her youth, yet had somehow managed to come out of it in one piece. But this? Exposing oneself to toxins and risk all kinds of grisly deaths in order to make oneself stronger? This was lunacy. And also, she had to admit, it was kind of brilliant. The Vantha didn't think it possible she would have the guts in a million centuries to devote her life to such things, so that in itself she had to admire him for. Would people, should they ever find out how his blood worked, come chasing after it? Vanari thought on this for a while with some amusement, imagining Nolan running from town to town, hoarding his blood against thirsty customers. Good thing he wasn't a woman. She finished setting out all the relevant ingredients she had purchased this morning, keeping the Belltor tincture and such in her pack. Even in their raw forms they were creating a rather powerful scent, and Vanari felt a thrill of excitement at the opportunity to create something beautiful. Assuming, that is, they didn't botch things horribly and create a deadly poison instead. At Nolan's question regarding what they should start with, Verennia's eyes went wide. She seemed stricken with shock that someone should care for her opinion. But the girl was tougher than she looked; she gulped once, twice, then cleared her throat and said, "Maybe we should start in order of the notes, from bottom to top. So, cinnamon first, and then sage. We should probably use a different beaker for the rose hips, Aletrid, and Kiv, and then a third for the alternative to Halbriar." She paused for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with having said as many words as she had in a row, but something drove her to speak the rest of her mind. "It's not really an alternative," Verennia admitted, casting her eyes to the ground. "the stuff in the green pouches, that is. My mast--the...herb man, he was too lazy to categorize it properly. I overheard some locals call it Maiden's Heart, cause it has a nice smell and seems to make all the pretty girls giddier than a full pint of ale. It's supposed to be pretty strong. He would go out a lot at night...testing it..." There was look of vile detestation on the girl's face, but Vanari's bore only that of surprise. There was no way Verennia could have deduced all of that, simply with one inspection of the instructions. She'd only let the girl look at the little piece of brown paper as a way to distract her from the day's earlier events, and to see if she could actually read. Turned out she could, and that she knew a thing or two about perfumery, too. Well, well, seems the Vantha had gotten more than she'd bargained for. And, oh, how she did enjoy getting more than her money's worth. "What she said," Vanari pointed with her thumb, grinning.

OOC :

let me know if any details are off about the shop/handling of stuffs

[Inoadar]

Inoadar caught himself feeling some relief that Ari had gone to the effort to ensure that the little girl washed her hands in cold water. It disturbed him oddly to find himself caring. He thought about telling her it was really a somewhat exaggerated precaution. The girl would have had to have the water quite hot, and it would only be from having her hands potentially near her face, while scrubbing, that any hazard might be present. But he decided it was best that they both be reluctant to "mess" with his stuff.

When the child gave him a well-reasoned and confident response to his question of how to proceed, he was astounded. It was not only that she HAD the knowledge to formulate such a sensible answer. That could be attributed to the obvious herbalism knowledge her former master had possessed. Some of it would have HAD to rub off. It was more the backbone she displayed in answering him at all. She had been a cringing worm before her master when they first arrived. 'Had she truly realized the significance of the burning of that one single document? Did she realize she could be snatched back up as a slave tomorrow just as fast?'

The thought bothered him more than he expected it would. When he saw a slave freed and it just moped around, broken of spirit and awaiting re-enslavement, he felt no sort of sympathy for it whatsoever. But this child was not broken, despite the beatings and whippings it...she...had clearly taken. The moment the proof of slave status was destroyed, her attitude reflected the change. Inoadar found himself wanting to maintain this improvement. When they were done here, he wanted to know what end Ari had planned for this little gem. 'Does she have a place for her to stay?'

For now though, he grinned at the girl. "Very well, we shall start with the cinnamon...uhh..." he looked back and forth between some wide, green leaves, some small, red nut-like fruits, and something that looked like the rolled-up inner lining of some sort of tree bark. "...which one is it?"

Verennia looked hesitant for a moment, then eyed him with a grin as though she thought he was just teasing her, and pointed at the rolled-up woody strips. Inoadar looked at her, making an obvious display of how he noticed they were sort of wet and slick, wiped his hands and asked her if "the fat man" had to dry these first. She nodded her head.

Inoadar looked around, frowning. He didn't have a proper oven. The best he could do was to remove the glass bells from two oil lamps to place beneath a small, raised platform on a makeshift rack, upon which the rolled cinnamon was placed. He lit the lamps and enclosed the whole assembly within an array of metal trays resembling the beginning of a card house. It would take quite some time that way, but it would free him up to make progress on something else.

Verennia started to laugh. He looked perplexed and asked her what was so funny. "Silly...you have to dry the sage too!"

[Vanari]

Vanari watched with almost maniac glee as Nolan's inexperience with such things left him at the mercy of a child. At Verennia's unexpected mirth regarding the sage, the Vantha had to stuff her face hastily into her sleeve to stifle a burst of laughter. Gods, it felt good to be watching the schooling rather than suffering it, for once. Since it seemed that between Nolan and the girl things would progress smoothly enough, Vanari wandered around the shop a little, peeking at the various jars and their strange contents but careful not to touch anything. It was really quite fascinating, all the deadly and vile uses one could make of simple plants. In that moment, she felt more sure than ever that all knowledge was worth knowing; being familiar with even the most basic of poisons would be an incredible advantage no matter where a person went. It could mean the difference between getting and not getting what you want, or living and not living. She had been lucky today, what with her gaping ignorance of herbs and all. Though she wasn't exactly proud of the way she handled things, she'd gotten what she wanted...and more. Vanari snuck a glance over her shoulder at Verennia, who may as well have been an entirely different little girl from the battered slave they had whisked away not two bells ago. It had been so long--too long--since the Vantha had done something good for someone else. Be it because of the city, or the roughness of her travels. It didn't matter. What did matter was the sudden, uninvited feeling of warmth, and of rightness. Here was a girl, clearly bright in both mind and spirit, who could have been something wonderful. Someone great. But instead of be allowed to grow, as was only natural for a child, she was shackled. Beaten. Purposefully and maliciously stunted. Vanari wondered how many more had, are, and would suffer such a fate. Curiously enough, such thoughts kindled not a pang of sadness inside of her, but a spark of anger instead. "Psst!" She blinked, torn from her thoughts, and looked down in surprise to find a slim, nut-brown hand tugging at her sleeve. Verennia's dark eyes glittered in the low light as they peered at the Vantha with concern, darting glances back every now and then at the poisoner behind them. "Miss Ari, we, um, need a little help with the rest of the herbs...the rest is dried but it'll be faster if we all worked together," the girl said, loud enough for all to hear, then whispered under her breath, "I don't think Mister Nolan likes you wandering around his shop, Miss Ari. And he seems like he would be scary if he was grouchy..." Vanari grinned. Such a perceptive child, she was. She took Verennia's hand in her own and patted it gently, feeling the calluses beneath the girl's nimble fingers. A good set of hands made for a good carver, her mother had always said. So much potential in this one... ...and so little of it was rightly hers to manipulate. Relieved she had not offended her rescuer, Verennia led the Vantha eagerly back to the work area, where the cinnamon sticks and sage were slowly being dried. "So," Vanari sighed, planting her hands on her hips. "Essences. Where do we start?"

[Inoadar]

"Well," Inoadar looked around at the various items still to be processed, "there's still these rose bud things here...rose hips? I wonder why 'hips." he said with a shrug. "If I was going for a poison, I would assume the seeds to be the primary source. But with a perfume, I suppose it could be the zest or the flesh...or both." He looked down at Verenia with sincere curiosity, "Does our little expert know which is better?"

Verennia shrugged, "Mast-...mister Pegli never showed me. But it was always a liquid, if that helps." her eyes were wide, a slight hopeful nod displaying her genuine desire to help.

Inoadar smiled broadly, "That helps a great deal." he said, ruffling her hair. "Now I know it doesn't need to be dried. You'd have had a good laugh at that, wouldn't you." He imitated her voice "Silly, you have to dry the rose hips too." She blushed and Inoadar went into the back room, returning with a hand held tool. It was essentially an over-sized garlic press.

He got out a wide glass dish, with sides a few inches high, and set to squeezing the juice from the fruity buds. The room immediately filled with a delicate, sweet bouquet. He placed a funneled cap on the dish and attached a rubber grommet to allow the attachment of a condenser. Most people probably thought of this as a strictly "Philtering" tool, but he used it frequently. Or rather, one like it.

He grinned sardonically, "I guess it shouldn't hurt if I use this for this perfume project before it gets imbued with toxins. Maybe the next person who gets poisoned by something made with this will appreciate the lovely bouquet before they die." Then it suddenly occurred to him that this might not be a bad idea after all. Many toxins DID have distinctive smells. This might help negate that potential snag.

So with the herbs drying, and the rose hip juice boiling for distillation, it fell upon him to decide how many tasks he wanted to perform at once. He turned to Vanari, "You're sure that this is what you want to make for this friend. I mean, I can breakdown these essences to the best of my ability, which is pretty much zero. But it doesn't guarantee that these are the PROPER processes. I DO have...products...that are not detrimental. And I already know how to make them."


OOCJust an opening for discussing the candle thing

[Vanari]

Vanari watched with delight as Verennia proved her worth once more and earned a rare gesture of approval from the poisoner. It was actually rather surprising, the discovery that Nolan was capable of sincere compliments or displays of affections at all. The Vantha rubbed her chin. Verennia seemed so much more at ease within the shop, quickly relinquishing her ties with her oppressive past and embracing the meticulous processes of what Vanari considered generally to be potion making with undisguised enthusiasm. Not only that, she was useful, pertinent, and confident. And, thus far, Nolan offered little to no scorn in his treatment of the girl. If he proved a prudent teacher, as well as a willing caretaker of sorts...perhaps... Her thoughts were interrupted as Nolan directed a question towards her--or, rather, hinted at other possibilities due to his lack of faith in how closely they would actually be able to follow the recipe. She considered his subtle offer for a moment, her tawny eyes scanning the room slowly for some source of inspiration. There were myriad jars, bottles, and containers of all kinds, each containing something or other whose effects Vanari was less than eager to dwell on. She chewed the inside of her cheek as her eyes roamed and roamed, until at last they fell on the simplest set of staples any shop in Ravok could own: candles. Their fat, tallow bodies were of simple, creamy textures, their tiny, dancing flames throwing lively shadows against the walls. She looked out the window, frowning at the darkness that now reigned outside of the shop's heavily laden walls. It was getting quite late, and they were still stuck on deciding what the final product ought to be. They might very well have to spend the night in the shop, surrounded by gods knew what sitting in their labeled containers. Vanari turned back, her mind churning furiously. She thought of the vines and how Nolan had explained they were most dangerous when inhaled after being heated. What if they could make something similar in execution, but with wholly different side effects? "I know this may seem a rather abrupt change of plans but...is there any way we could turn this recipe into something for candles? I think that my friend would find them more practical than silly old perfume. Scented candles aren't unheard of, right?" She tried not to think too much on what kinds of new products such a combination may--or might have already--inspired. Something as harmless as a candle could literally show up anywhere, anytime. Fill up a whole room with some deadly fumes and no one would be the wiser for it... For a moment, Vanari was trapped between morbid fascination and moral confusion. Gods, what was she getting herself into?

[Inoadar]

Even Verennia stared in mild disbelief at Vanari. Inoadar spoke for them both. "What?...NOW you ask to do candles instead? Now that we're halfway done? I don't know how to make them, for one thing. For another, I don't have any...no wait...okay I DO have wax, but I don't know if it's the same kind they use for candles. I use it for sealing jars and such. And I don't know how you blend in aromatic...stuff...umm...okay I suppose you just melt the wax and...what?...stir it in?...I don't know."

He went on like this for a short while longer, ignoring the tugging on his sleeve, until Verennia cried "Oh NO, I TOLD you it was going to burn!" and the smell of something burning became noticeable. Inoadar stopped in mid-tirade and ran to knock the rose hip juice off the heat. But it was too late already. The delicate, sweet smell was now a thick, bitter sweetness that couldn't even be used as incense. Inoadar scowled, wanting to blame Ari for his distraction, but knew it was really his own fault. Verennia pouted, with her arms folded in righteous anger. "You said we shouldn't use ALL of anything because you might make a mistake!"

Inoadar spun to bring his scowl to bear on the child and growled. "Don't you bring that lip to ME, girl. I KNOW what I said, and I know I petched up! Don't be disrespectful to the ones that bought YOU out of slavery. I ALSO said I'd never done this kind of work before, as that snotty little memory of yours may remind you. Don't rub it in my face that I didn't get it right the first time. I'll paddle your little backside!" he held a flat hand up threateningly.

The child crowded over beside Ari, but there was a hint of defiance in her look. Inoadar felt a twinge of regret, but it faded as he saw the spark of spirit in her eyes. He suspected that after the beatings and whippings she'd endured, a mere spanking was less than intimidating. It was probably just resentment over the scolding. And that was fine with him. She was behaving, and holding her tongue, there was no need for any further nagging.

He started pacing, his chin in hand, speaking his thoughts aloud, "It may be for the best...if we can't do the perfume exactly now...the syrupy essence is the better one to lose...wouldn't mix with wax...too soupy...probably wouldn't hold it's shape...Too many scents for a candle I think...the wax smell could affect it."

He turned to the two females, "I'm not sure how much of this we should use in any one candle. You are aware that this 'Baltisce', that you call "Maiden Heart", is a drug of sorts, didn't you? I'm afraid, without the syrupy binding quality of the rose hip essence, we'll HAVE to go with candles. Now I can't make them myself, but I know who can. but we'll need to decide how many, what scents, or combinations, and what...um...effects you want to achieve." He held up a hand, "Let me explain what I mean."

He gathered the different elements together, not including the cinnamon and sage, which were still drying. He gestured to them first, "Those two don't matter, except in how you may want to blend smells. These others though, have, shall we say, "medicinal" qualities to them. But I don't now which ones may require specific processes to bring this out. Like poisons, some may well require certain triggers that will be negated by introducing them to the target the wrong way, or coming in contact with the wrong thing beforehand. For instance, an "ingestion" poison will be largely ineffective if placed in a cut, because it requires acid, like stomach acid, to trigger its effect. Likewise, a "blood" poison will probably be just a nuisance if eaten, as the acid will break it down and combine its elements with whatever is in the stomach before it digests into the bloodstream."

"Now this Aletrid, I recognize already, but these two, the Kiv and the Baltisce, I'm taking your word that this is what they are." His gaze traveled to Verennia, and his vice softened a bit. "Perhaps you can tell us, for sure, that these are right?" The child paused a moment, then her expression also softened and she nodded.

"Good enough." he said, standing back up to look at them both. "I'm not at all sure what process I use to get the stimulant or intoxicant qualities from them." He cast a wink at Verennia, "I may very well pe-...er...mess them both up. But I also have something called "Intellect Mist" that I know for a fact can be soaked into a candle wick. it gives you a pronounced mental focus. Would you like to try a sample?"