Solo Inventory

[Shamus]

Fall 4th 514 AV It was the first cup, the gentle turn of the wrist causing the course seasalt to fall into a large bowl, snowing onto the glazed ceramic bowls bottom, sounding off hundred of small pings as salt grains bounced around. Another cup, and another, and another. He was following his mother's recipe, creating inventory for an idea yet to be made, and idea that was little more than a egg yet to hatch, but by creating inventory he was beginning to hatch. It all became real when he actually began creating the bath salts, proving to himself that he would follow through with the plan, which would create a stable living environment for him, and allow him to bring relaxation to others with ease. The soft hands approached a large pot sitting upon a portable burner meant for heating beakers, but Shamus had improvised when necessary. It had been sitting open for just a bit over a week, after burning on the small trickle of orange flame for a whole day. The fragrance of lavender surrounded the area, nearly overpowering in strength of smell, clearing Shamus's sinuses instantly. His fingers encircled a small jar next the pot, and the hands moved in a arch over the pot, stopping just above the surface of the water. He gently dipped it into the surface water, the lip of the jar barely under water, moving it forward slowly so it did not create ripples that would ruin the essential oils that gathered on the top. The jar was pulled upwards after skimming all of the lavender oil off of the top of the pot. It was gently turned to it's normal upright position, a cotton cloth placed over the top. He moved it to a dark corner that rarely received sunlight and where it would sit unmoved for the next week, when all the water would evaporate and leave only his precious lavender extraction. His focus shifted to his apothecary chest, each drawer containing a sample of an herb, root, spice, tiny bottle of essential oil, or dried plant, which was what he was searching for at the moment. I should really organize these sometime. He opened a few drawers before finding what he was searching for, dried mint. It was brittle tot he touch, forcing Shamus to lift it gently and cup it in his hands as he carried it to a small glazed ceramic mortar and pestle on the table. He began to grind the dried mint into a fine powder, watching absentmindedly as he did so. Making a bathhouse like I need will cost thousands of mizas... Where will I get that kind of money!? He denied in the implausibility and continued to work, pouring the brown mint powder into a small ceramic jar, using a fork to etch a messy label onto it before corking it. He now had mint incense, a weaker basic incense but still it would work, and had essential oils sitting to be made. Now all he could do was gather more oils while he waited for his current batch to be done. He took out a much smaller tin pot, heading to his drawers and taking out some fresh lemon balm and putting it into the pot over the burner, filling he pot with water. He put a plate over the top as a makeshift lid and turned on the flame, watching it flicker to life, orange tendrils reaching out toward the pot. He sat down, done for the moment, contemplating everything he would need for his future store and bathhouse.

[Shamus]

Fall 4th 514 AV He made headway with his slight trot out the door of the apartments, feet smacking against the ground rather rhythmically. But then his age old enemy showed itself yet again, the sun. He flinched, hand soaring upward in steep incline to shield his eyes, which were rather delicate when it came to drastic changes of light from his apartment to the sun outside. The lids squinted, pressing down and then slowly retracting, golden irises reflecting back at the sun in a defiant stare. The legs began to move again, body twisting in a dance to avoid slamming into other citizens going about their business. He was always the one to turn, trying to slip through the cracks of others charges that paid no heed to others. The world was lucky to have a mix of the outspoken and the quiet, even having room for the silent. While others cried out against the cage of oppression and rebelled against tyranny directly, Shamus's kind worked in the shadows, observing and finding the best way to do things indirectly. His mind tossed the thoughts around like tumbleweeds in a light breeze, thinking of what the world would be like if it were full of screaming politicians or void of them. Either way, Lhavit would not be the same place it was today, it may have been in a state of endless war or not exist at all, it was impossible to tell. His body instinctively cringed as a rather large man's elbow drove itself into his back forcefully, like a hammer pushing a nail into his spine. The brute continued to jog by, unaware of his rude and slightly painful folly. Shamus did what he knew best, glaring into the mans back with daggers, hoping to do so while he was still close and in Shamus's area of influence. He rammed a piercing thought into the mans head with the same force he had just been hit, I just rammed right into someone, I should apologize. Shamus watched as the man stumbled, halting and staring blankly in front of him, wondering why he just now realized his forceful push. He turned, and Shamus caught a look of the mans face, including the shimmering trails of tears that were running down frequently. Shamus frowned thinking if he had used some sort of emotional surge, but recalling no new sensation when he drilled into the mans head to plant the thought, why would he be crying? He watched the lips of seemingly sensitive target release a gasping, "s-sorry, my sister is hurt, I didn't mean to ram into you," before turning and running off to wherever his injured family member lay, possibly in her deathbed. Shamus was ashamed of himself, being so inconsiderate as to not consult his mental reasoning, for there was nearly always a reason for someone to travel through the crowed streets at a such a hurried trot. His previously rebellious irises looked down toward the ground, now forlorn, filled with a look of hatred, except it was pointed towards himself. The hands clenched at his rage, knuckles white as he squeezed the palms, before noticing a single crimson drop roll down from his hand, coming from a tiny gash that his fingernails had created. It left a trail of rage behind it, or so Shamus liked to think, as if it was a way to cleanse his sadness and let it out of his body. His head shook slightly, a nod from side to side as he regained his sense of purpose in the bright daylight coming down from the sky. His pace began again, the consistent steps of his march that took over his thoughts, simply listening to his own body's music while the market approached before him. His body moved into a store immediately, issuing a smile to the clerk as he searched for something, unscented soap. It was not hard, seeing as it was a pretty basic item, and he found it quickly, looking over it and inhaling over it to be sure there were no added incenses. He found no scent, and happy with the five bars of soap he bought, set the money on the counter and promptly walked out with nothing more than a nod. The walk home was uneventful, just the way Shamus liked it. When he arrived home, he immediately put the bars of soap into his smaller pot to be melted down, setting it near the warm hearth to do so. He rummaged through his drawers of herbs and essential oils, finding a vial of pre made lavender oil, for his had not been concentrated into its purest and most effective form. He popped open the vial, inhaling the strong scent of lavender even though he was holding it a fairly far distance from his nose, which gave note of its strength and purity. He tilted the glass vial, tinted orange as it was illuminated by the candles that lit his home in the evening and night. He allowed a few drops to dive into his soap, then a few more, and finally capping the vial, making sure he did not add too much of the essence, for it could turn overpowering if even a few too many drops were added. His hands fumbled to the counter, wrapping around a jar full of almond oil. He moved it over the melted soap, tilting it to pour in a few drops of the honey-colored substance. He stirred it, all the while grasping for one of his small ceramic jars, bringing it close to the hearth. He gripped the warm handles of the pot, tilting it over the jar slowly, allowing the thick soap to ooze into his container, where it would mold into circular shapes. He winced as a drop spilled out onto his hand while he tried to move another jar closer for his current one was nearly full, burning into the skin, but Shamus forced himself to continue to pour until the soap was all in the jars. He set down the pot, splash his hand with water from his water-skin, sighing at the temporary burn relief.

ledger :

1.5 Kinas for Soap.