8th of Autumn, 513 AV
19th Bell
Heaving a sigh Aoren trudged into the interior of his apartment. It had been a long day. His tasks at the shop, Stormhold Salves had only increased as people prepared to stock up on medicines for the upcoming winter season. That was only to be expected. Everyone was ensuring that they were quite ready for the harsh cold that would follow. He carried with him his pack. It was filled with purchases from the Great Bazaar. Purchases he’d been needing to make for some time but had been putting off because he’d been busy.
Setting the pack on the surface of the solitary table in his apartment he opened the pack beginning to dutiful task of retrieving its contents. As he lay the day’s purchases out on the table a slight frown touched his features. He’d spent a fair amount of money on the items he was pulling out.
“Thank goodness Xyna makes her home here in the city otherwise I’d have probably spent a lot more.” There wasn’t a doubt in Aoren’s mind that the proximity of the Commerce Goddess to the city had a direct influence on how fair the merchants priced their wares. He shook his head grumbling to himself. He still wasn’t happy about having spent so much money though. To the casual observer one would assume that Aoren was an aspiring artists with the utensils he was pulling out of his pack. He had no such aspirations though. These tools would be put to a less mundane purpose. At least to start with.
“Let’s see, two detail brushes.” Aoren looked at the very fine tipped brushes with sweeping bristles he’d been told were for making miniscule details on paintings. “Check. Large brushes. Check. Medium brushes. Check. Charcoal. Check.” One by one he rattled off the mental list he’d made placing the items neatly about the surface of the table.
When his pack was emptied he set it at the foot of his bed next to the trunk containing his clothes and more personal belongings. Going back to the table Aoren wasted no time in picking up a smaller brush and the container of paint that he’d bought from the market. For a moment he simply stood there looking around his room searching for an object that struck a chord with him. His gaze passed over from item to item until finally he simply looked down at his arm.
“That will do, I suppose.” Going to his table he scoot the chair back ever so slightly then took a seat. He set the container of pain onto the table then opened it carefully. Being careful not to spill the container he poured just a little bit onto the surface of a wooden artist’s palette. He then closed the container setting it aside. Resting his forearm atop the surface with his palm facing the ceiling he took the small brush in his right hand then dipped it into the paint. With the utmost care he took a deep breath as he weighed what he was about to do then placed the paint soaked bristles upon his skin.
19th Bell
Heaving a sigh Aoren trudged into the interior of his apartment. It had been a long day. His tasks at the shop, Stormhold Salves had only increased as people prepared to stock up on medicines for the upcoming winter season. That was only to be expected. Everyone was ensuring that they were quite ready for the harsh cold that would follow. He carried with him his pack. It was filled with purchases from the Great Bazaar. Purchases he’d been needing to make for some time but had been putting off because he’d been busy.
Setting the pack on the surface of the solitary table in his apartment he opened the pack beginning to dutiful task of retrieving its contents. As he lay the day’s purchases out on the table a slight frown touched his features. He’d spent a fair amount of money on the items he was pulling out.
“Thank goodness Xyna makes her home here in the city otherwise I’d have probably spent a lot more.” There wasn’t a doubt in Aoren’s mind that the proximity of the Commerce Goddess to the city had a direct influence on how fair the merchants priced their wares. He shook his head grumbling to himself. He still wasn’t happy about having spent so much money though. To the casual observer one would assume that Aoren was an aspiring artists with the utensils he was pulling out of his pack. He had no such aspirations though. These tools would be put to a less mundane purpose. At least to start with.
“Let’s see, two detail brushes.” Aoren looked at the very fine tipped brushes with sweeping bristles he’d been told were for making miniscule details on paintings. “Check. Large brushes. Check. Medium brushes. Check. Charcoal. Check.” One by one he rattled off the mental list he’d made placing the items neatly about the surface of the table.
When his pack was emptied he set it at the foot of his bed next to the trunk containing his clothes and more personal belongings. Going back to the table Aoren wasted no time in picking up a smaller brush and the container of paint that he’d bought from the market. For a moment he simply stood there looking around his room searching for an object that struck a chord with him. His gaze passed over from item to item until finally he simply looked down at his arm.
“That will do, I suppose.” Going to his table he scoot the chair back ever so slightly then took a seat. He set the container of pain onto the table then opened it carefully. Being careful not to spill the container he poured just a little bit onto the surface of a wooden artist’s palette. He then closed the container setting it aside. Resting his forearm atop the surface with his palm facing the ceiling he took the small brush in his right hand then dipped it into the paint. With the utmost care he took a deep breath as he weighed what he was about to do then placed the paint soaked bristles upon his skin.
NoteDeduction made to ledger according to cost noted in the Price List.
