Altaira | NPC 1 | 24 Autumn 513 AV
Of all the places within Syliras, the greenhouse of Stormhold Salves was Altaira's favourite. She could hardly call herself working whenever she slipped into the glass room, her eyes raking over the flora, each time trying to single out a certain scent as part of her own little identification game, attending to whatever it was she was asked with unrivalled pleasure and a flitting gaze.
It was in that strange limbo between jobs that she'd found herself in, she'd served one of her first customers on her own. Not a massive feat, but she was proud of herself for managing to log the ledger without too much trouble, and was able to scan the shelves and recall their organisation well enough to fetch the customer what they'd asked for. ‘Sorted by methods of application, not by uses. Remember that.’
When they had first walked in, their rough looks had her worry for a moment. It was true that small dosages of poisons were sold, and other potentially harmful poultices and solutions, but if they'd asked for such she wouldn't have been able to look upon them without scrutiny - nor seek out Aoren or the Mistress for help. She was glad to have quickly found her worries unwarranted, and after the sharing of a joke and a tale of the Suvan Sea, and a comment about Altaira joining a pirate's crew as the captain's loyal parrot (It seemed that they were well learned in the tells that give away kelvics, and almost immediately inquired her base species after a few exchanges that gave away her race altogether) they bought a host of supplies and went off on their way.
"Would you like to learn how to tend the gardens?" Chimes a voice, shortly after the latch of the greenhouse door clicked open.
Altaira quickly turned her gaze, spying Mistress Blackleaf in her usual wear, look curious and arms loosely folded. "Yes, please-" Altaira gushed, eager enough for an inward scolding. "I mean, If you would that'd be much appreciated." She felt her stance stiffen, holding herself high and respectful in front of her superior. Old habits die hard.
"So long as you're willing to keep to the work and not worry about getting your hands dirty, I see little problem in having another qualified to work in greenhouse. It'll certainly make harvest and replanting an easier task."
Altaira gave two tight nods, before joining Mistress Blackleaf in the center of the room, careful not to let her hands dangle idly, as though the slightest misstep would land her in a world of scorn and trouble. "First you need to understand why the greenhouse is organised in the manner that it is.” She began, expression hard as stone, tone commanding, but neither cold nor irritated at the explanations that were required. "Each section is distinctly different, though there are similarities enough such that neighbours are set to their likeness and soil type, as well as water requirements.” To make things more apparent, she drew attention to the richness of the soil within the tropical section, and the poor, sand and coarse soil of the desert sectors. "These two regions are especially temperamental.”
"Desert plants have evolved to thrive on great heat and little water. Should they have too little sunlight and too much hydration, they will drown. This is a similar case for the tropical section, which requires large amounts of sunlight as well as frequent watering.” Altaira nodded to the Mistress’ words, following what was said with the usual kelvic lag.
She hadn’t expected to be hit with the full blown guide to gardening, but she could hardly complain. Better to learn all from the basics, than to jump straight in and ask key concept questions later on, she supposed. “There are an array of irrigation pipes set up,” she continued, gesturing to what appeared to be the primary funnel, though the shortness of her words showed that such a thing was little to worry about. "This allows water regulation to be keenly cared for, with only newly seeded plants to be needing extra care.”
It was in that strange limbo between jobs that she'd found herself in, she'd served one of her first customers on her own. Not a massive feat, but she was proud of herself for managing to log the ledger without too much trouble, and was able to scan the shelves and recall their organisation well enough to fetch the customer what they'd asked for. ‘Sorted by methods of application, not by uses. Remember that.’
When they had first walked in, their rough looks had her worry for a moment. It was true that small dosages of poisons were sold, and other potentially harmful poultices and solutions, but if they'd asked for such she wouldn't have been able to look upon them without scrutiny - nor seek out Aoren or the Mistress for help. She was glad to have quickly found her worries unwarranted, and after the sharing of a joke and a tale of the Suvan Sea, and a comment about Altaira joining a pirate's crew as the captain's loyal parrot (It seemed that they were well learned in the tells that give away kelvics, and almost immediately inquired her base species after a few exchanges that gave away her race altogether) they bought a host of supplies and went off on their way.
"Would you like to learn how to tend the gardens?" Chimes a voice, shortly after the latch of the greenhouse door clicked open.
Altaira quickly turned her gaze, spying Mistress Blackleaf in her usual wear, look curious and arms loosely folded. "Yes, please-" Altaira gushed, eager enough for an inward scolding. "I mean, If you would that'd be much appreciated." She felt her stance stiffen, holding herself high and respectful in front of her superior. Old habits die hard.
"So long as you're willing to keep to the work and not worry about getting your hands dirty, I see little problem in having another qualified to work in greenhouse. It'll certainly make harvest and replanting an easier task."
Altaira gave two tight nods, before joining Mistress Blackleaf in the center of the room, careful not to let her hands dangle idly, as though the slightest misstep would land her in a world of scorn and trouble. "First you need to understand why the greenhouse is organised in the manner that it is.” She began, expression hard as stone, tone commanding, but neither cold nor irritated at the explanations that were required. "Each section is distinctly different, though there are similarities enough such that neighbours are set to their likeness and soil type, as well as water requirements.” To make things more apparent, she drew attention to the richness of the soil within the tropical section, and the poor, sand and coarse soil of the desert sectors. "These two regions are especially temperamental.”
"Desert plants have evolved to thrive on great heat and little water. Should they have too little sunlight and too much hydration, they will drown. This is a similar case for the tropical section, which requires large amounts of sunlight as well as frequent watering.” Altaira nodded to the Mistress’ words, following what was said with the usual kelvic lag.
She hadn’t expected to be hit with the full blown guide to gardening, but she could hardly complain. Better to learn all from the basics, than to jump straight in and ask key concept questions later on, she supposed. “There are an array of irrigation pipes set up,” she continued, gesturing to what appeared to be the primary funnel, though the shortness of her words showed that such a thing was little to worry about. "This allows water regulation to be keenly cared for, with only newly seeded plants to be needing extra care.”
