Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others | Winter 91, 513 AV
The winter season was on it's brink, the unexpected cold that came with a snow fall early and heavy only just then slipping away. In terms of the store's selling, Altaira hadn't expected so much business, and she found it quite clear why the ledgers were taken by the knights and checked in the first days of spring - they'd actually run out of a thing or two. The city, it seemed, had faith in the weather's predictions, and were caught unawares when the blistering cold set in early, with many denizens falling ill with colds and flues, or were so paranoid about warding against them that they took lemon with their water and stood fast to old wife's tales.
As such, it was the herbal teas to improve health and the immune system, and therein fighting against ailments, and reduce fevers that were mostly sought at Stormhold Salves, with quite the many citizen preferring to avoid the gathering of sick people in the infirmary/hospital and self caring the lighter symptoms. Even Altaira was quick to begin drinking infusions, even though it was not quite her character to follow suit.
A light sigh left her as she hung her cloak on it's own little hook within the workroom, her lips pursing as she breathed warmth into her hands and jumped in place. She could feel the world begin to thaw, but it wasn't spring yet. The air was still chilled and dry, the coarseness of her own skin evidence of the toll placed on her as winter had worn through.
She was the first in, that day. Someone had called in sick - or been given leave - so Altaira was alone, save for the sounds of Mistress Blackleaf readying herself in her room, having stayed up well past the usual hour to ready for the coming checks and sorting ways to attain herbs and other supplies lost to demand. Even she had been called to aid the odd physician or two, and it was often that she complained of 'hypochondriacs' (One who worries of their health with little need, as Altaira found upon inquiry) and people who hoarded supplies with little need.
Altaira took place behind the counter for the shortest of moments, the cold of the thin stone top deterring her from dwelling too close, and therein, take seat with any sort of comfort. She stood and strolled throughout the aisles, a small smile taking form on her lips, and eyes gaining a certain vibrancy as she noted how well she'd managed to learn the workings of the place. She knew what went where, which vials and containers of what tended to fall and slip behind other products, she knew the strange and subtle little differences between too seemingly identical balms and salves. She knew when she needed to consult someone far more learned.
She knew the store like she knew herself, and there was no other place where she felt so welcome. Everything just felt right. She pushed aside thoughts about her leaving, instead keeping her mind on work, and loving it while she could, a certain short relief hitting her as the light chime of the bell at the door announced someone's presence.
She gave a sweet smile, popping around the corner to see if it was a familiar face. "How may I help you?" She asked, words leaving her mouth before her gaze was set on the man, her blood then running cold. There was a redness to his face, a shortness to his breath, and a heavy, dark look to his eyes that spelled trouble. "Yes, herbs," he began, having trouble straightening his words. "For fever- or sickness," He was flustered, and Altaira almost too taken aback too respond coherently.
"Fever? Sickness?- Cold or flu?" He gave her a look and wrung his fingers, the shift in his expression showing that he did not quite know himself. "How long have they been sick, and how bad? A couple of days with light to mild symptoms, or more than several days and rather severe?" She assumed her usual gentle approach, knowing better than some the harm that can come of riling those not quite calm.
He blinked and frowned, running a trembling hand through his hair as his countenance drew with thought. "At least few days? My wife is with child, she's a little lighter. But our son... There were a number of people with the physician already - I couldn't sit around and wait, or catch something ev-" It was the mention of the patients that threw her, and she couldn't have thanked the Mistress enough for choosing then to enter the conversation. "I'm afraid we're running low," She said, cool and calm as she always was.
That air of quite sternness and kind authority. "We need to restock, winter has brought colds upon on most, and I'm afraid that you may have come to late for anything in our current stock." Altaira felt the Mistress' gaze fall upon her, and she swallowed hard at it's sheer weight.
As such, it was the herbal teas to improve health and the immune system, and therein fighting against ailments, and reduce fevers that were mostly sought at Stormhold Salves, with quite the many citizen preferring to avoid the gathering of sick people in the infirmary/hospital and self caring the lighter symptoms. Even Altaira was quick to begin drinking infusions, even though it was not quite her character to follow suit.
A light sigh left her as she hung her cloak on it's own little hook within the workroom, her lips pursing as she breathed warmth into her hands and jumped in place. She could feel the world begin to thaw, but it wasn't spring yet. The air was still chilled and dry, the coarseness of her own skin evidence of the toll placed on her as winter had worn through.
She was the first in, that day. Someone had called in sick - or been given leave - so Altaira was alone, save for the sounds of Mistress Blackleaf readying herself in her room, having stayed up well past the usual hour to ready for the coming checks and sorting ways to attain herbs and other supplies lost to demand. Even she had been called to aid the odd physician or two, and it was often that she complained of 'hypochondriacs' (One who worries of their health with little need, as Altaira found upon inquiry) and people who hoarded supplies with little need.
Altaira took place behind the counter for the shortest of moments, the cold of the thin stone top deterring her from dwelling too close, and therein, take seat with any sort of comfort. She stood and strolled throughout the aisles, a small smile taking form on her lips, and eyes gaining a certain vibrancy as she noted how well she'd managed to learn the workings of the place. She knew what went where, which vials and containers of what tended to fall and slip behind other products, she knew the strange and subtle little differences between too seemingly identical balms and salves. She knew when she needed to consult someone far more learned.
She knew the store like she knew herself, and there was no other place where she felt so welcome. Everything just felt right. She pushed aside thoughts about her leaving, instead keeping her mind on work, and loving it while she could, a certain short relief hitting her as the light chime of the bell at the door announced someone's presence.
She gave a sweet smile, popping around the corner to see if it was a familiar face. "How may I help you?" She asked, words leaving her mouth before her gaze was set on the man, her blood then running cold. There was a redness to his face, a shortness to his breath, and a heavy, dark look to his eyes that spelled trouble. "Yes, herbs," he began, having trouble straightening his words. "For fever- or sickness," He was flustered, and Altaira almost too taken aback too respond coherently.
"Fever? Sickness?- Cold or flu?" He gave her a look and wrung his fingers, the shift in his expression showing that he did not quite know himself. "How long have they been sick, and how bad? A couple of days with light to mild symptoms, or more than several days and rather severe?" She assumed her usual gentle approach, knowing better than some the harm that can come of riling those not quite calm.
He blinked and frowned, running a trembling hand through his hair as his countenance drew with thought. "At least few days? My wife is with child, she's a little lighter. But our son... There were a number of people with the physician already - I couldn't sit around and wait, or catch something ev-" It was the mention of the patients that threw her, and she couldn't have thanked the Mistress enough for choosing then to enter the conversation. "I'm afraid we're running low," She said, cool and calm as she always was.
That air of quite sternness and kind authority. "We need to restock, winter has brought colds upon on most, and I'm afraid that you may have come to late for anything in our current stock." Altaira felt the Mistress' gaze fall upon her, and she swallowed hard at it's sheer weight.
just wanted to move things along and get to the good stuffs!
I'll let it slide this time, but please keep this in mind for future threads.
