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Timestamp: Late Fall, 514AV (exact date TBD)
The philtering lab, in its current state, was an illustration in extremes. The actual work space to the right was clean, shining, and had been carefully polished and organized. Glass containers, mortar and pestles, clamps, as well as various odds and ends were lined up according to size and type. Its space was warm and cozy, being right next to the fire, and well-lit. The rest of the room was dusty, dark, and chilled from the high, open windows. Boxes and chests were stacked and lined around the perimeter, some half open and rifled through, others pushed back and covered in a layer of dust.
Rosela had woken up early to get the place together, despite her previous inclination to leave it be until her shop was open again. She had no idea of Orabelle’s organization system, but it clearly wasn’t intuitive. Boxes of equipment was to one side, ingredients to the other, but that was all she’d managed to figure out. The open windows were doing their job of clearing some of the dust, but the more she swept up, the more dust there was in the air. At least the main work area was clean, since she figured any grime there would interfere with their project for the day. Besides, it was bad enough to invite someone into her shop when it was less than pristine, the least she could do was make sure their work area was passable.
A flush of weakness passed over her as she shoved a dusty box back and she paused to lean against the cool wall. The baby pushed outward briefly, a sensation she still hadn't grown accustomed to. Two hands pressed to her stomach and another against her forehead, she wobbled to one of the chairs she’d set up next to the fire, her fur stole already thrown over the back of it. She thought she was past these – the doctor had said she was getting stronger every day and they should be getting less frequent. She’d be mortified if it happened with someone around.
Time was up though; Kavala would be in any second and the room would have to do as it was. Feeling the flush pass, she stood up slowly and made her way to the front, leaning on the checkout desk as she waited. Though she logically knew her belly would get much bigger before she came to term, she felt it was painfully obvious in her black sweater dress. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she rolled all of her sleeves back down, attempting to erase the evidence she’d been doing something so menial as cleaning.
Instead, she fished out a set of designs from under the desk and busied herself with flipping through them. Most of them were already finished and approved, but she came across one she remembered she wanted to add a small addition to. Leaning over, she pulled out a pencil and quickly attempted to add the small bow to the drawing of the sweater, first trying to draw it against her hand, then her knee, and finally turning around to draw it on the desk. It was a little girl’s sweater, plain, and therefore needing something to spice it up. The bow helped, but it needed something more… Tentatively, she drew a small oval on the side of each sleeve, thumbholes. The style seemed to be coming back in with the young crowd for the season and Rosela was cautiously endorsing it.
Flipping through the pages for more edits, she almost completely forgot she was waiting for someone as she lost herself in her work.
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Timestamp: Late Fall, 514AV (exact date TBD)
The philtering lab, in its current state, was an illustration in extremes. The actual work space to the right was clean, shining, and had been carefully polished and organized. Glass containers, mortar and pestles, clamps, as well as various odds and ends were lined up according to size and type. Its space was warm and cozy, being right next to the fire, and well-lit. The rest of the room was dusty, dark, and chilled from the high, open windows. Boxes and chests were stacked and lined around the perimeter, some half open and rifled through, others pushed back and covered in a layer of dust.
Rosela had woken up early to get the place together, despite her previous inclination to leave it be until her shop was open again. She had no idea of Orabelle’s organization system, but it clearly wasn’t intuitive. Boxes of equipment was to one side, ingredients to the other, but that was all she’d managed to figure out. The open windows were doing their job of clearing some of the dust, but the more she swept up, the more dust there was in the air. At least the main work area was clean, since she figured any grime there would interfere with their project for the day. Besides, it was bad enough to invite someone into her shop when it was less than pristine, the least she could do was make sure their work area was passable.
A flush of weakness passed over her as she shoved a dusty box back and she paused to lean against the cool wall. The baby pushed outward briefly, a sensation she still hadn't grown accustomed to. Two hands pressed to her stomach and another against her forehead, she wobbled to one of the chairs she’d set up next to the fire, her fur stole already thrown over the back of it. She thought she was past these – the doctor had said she was getting stronger every day and they should be getting less frequent. She’d be mortified if it happened with someone around.
Time was up though; Kavala would be in any second and the room would have to do as it was. Feeling the flush pass, she stood up slowly and made her way to the front, leaning on the checkout desk as she waited. Though she logically knew her belly would get much bigger before she came to term, she felt it was painfully obvious in her black sweater dress. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she rolled all of her sleeves back down, attempting to erase the evidence she’d been doing something so menial as cleaning.
Instead, she fished out a set of designs from under the desk and busied herself with flipping through them. Most of them were already finished and approved, but she came across one she remembered she wanted to add a small addition to. Leaning over, she pulled out a pencil and quickly attempted to add the small bow to the drawing of the sweater, first trying to draw it against her hand, then her knee, and finally turning around to draw it on the desk. It was a little girl’s sweater, plain, and therefore needing something to spice it up. The bow helped, but it needed something more… Tentatively, she drew a small oval on the side of each sleeve, thumbholes. The style seemed to be coming back in with the young crowd for the season and Rosela was cautiously endorsing it.
Flipping through the pages for more edits, she almost completely forgot she was waiting for someone as she lost herself in her work.
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