Wiping her hands on her slacks, Nari bent over the hearth and started a fire. As she waited for the flame to eat up one of the logs and become consistently hot, she ran down to the water edge with her buckets and filled them. It was almost baffling how many times a person needed water, even in just one day. When she got back home, she hung one of the buckets above the flames, setting the other next to her table. It needed to boil before she added her special ‘ingredients.’
First, she would boil down her foamflower. The roots, she carefully ground with her mortar and pestle into sticky, fleshy chunks. By the time she was finished with her grinding, her fingers were covered in whitish paste and the room smelled like the forest floor. Foamflower couldn’t be used for fragrances, but it was certainly helpful to have around. After cleaning, crushing, and boiling, it was mixed with oil and left to cool and condense. Afterwards, it could be used as a poultice for wounds, and who didn’t want to be protected from infection? If nothing else, she could always sell it to a healer.
Gurgling accompanied the bubbles forming at the surface of the heating water, and Nari scooped up her root bits to dump them unceremoniously into the bucket. They splashed and sunk to the bottom, filling almost a quarter of the container. They would expand and become sticky as they soaked up the water, so she couldn’t add more even if she wanted to. She covered her concoction with a large bowl, careful not to touch the bucket and burn herself. This step would take at least two bells, which was just enough time to soak and mash her Sweet Cicely flower. The hairy plant wasn’t her favorite, nor was its too sweet, licorice scent. The sweetness, however, was a good contrast to some of the earthier undertones she used. A popular fragrance was one with multiple well-balanced layers, she had learned, so it was necessary to deal with the scents she didn’t enjoy.
Pulling the unused bucket from beside the table up between her feet, Nari started dropping flowers into the water. After every handful, she would stir the soupy mixture to allow equal absorption. When all the flowers were soaked, she scooped them up and placed them on the table next to her. Each one was ground up by itself before being dumped collectively into a clean bowl for later. Her fingers were getting sore, so she flexed them slowly and glanced into the bowl of fuzzy, slimy goo next to her. It was lucky that her customers never saw this part of the process or else they may never buy fragrances again.
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