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Entry tags:
Oh the highway is my great wall
WHO: The Medicine Seller, Open
WHAT: Monthly Catch-All
WHEN: All month
WHERE: Various
NOTES: None for now - will update if necessary
WHAT: Monthly Catch-All
WHEN: All month
WHERE: Various
NOTES: None for now - will update if necessary
The Gallows: Rainy Days
The Medicine Seller was never a hard man to find if he was in an amenable mood for being found. When heavy rains kept him from his usual haunts in the markets (or wherever he wandered off to), so he had taken to exploring the Gallows.
His pace was erratic, sometimes swift and purposeful, and other times languid and ambling. Often he would stop dead in the middle of a corridor, and stare at what seemed to be nothing, heedless of any around him. And then, just as suddenly, he’d continue on.
Other times he could be found in his quarters, a paper sign pinned up by the entrance that read;
Medicine
Prices Negotiable
The doors were open, the inviting smell of incense wafting into the stone corridor that remained chilly despite the summer heat. There was a pleasant pink and purple glow emanating from the room, the source a number of coloured paper lanterns he’d strung from the ceiling.
He was there at a narrow work station in the corner, carefully going over his notes as something bubbled in a glass beaker over a flame.
The Gallows: Curiosity Killed the Cat
The Medicine Seller had considered the library in Skyhold to be on the biased side of things in terms of content. That was, he found, absolutely nothing when compared to the one in the Gallows. Sizable as it was, as he picked through the shelves of the books that had survived whatever disaster had befallen the place and the creeping dust and mold of neglect, he found very little in what anyone would consider adequate recreational reading.
He’d often found himself wondering about the prior inhabitants of the Gallows and their circumstances. The fact that even a small respite such as an enjoyable book was kept from them during Meredith’s reign evoked a bit of genuine sympathy for him. He didn’t dwell on it, however. Such things had passed, and he’d been worlds away when they had. It was nothing to do with him.
Locating a book that at least seemed promising, he plucked it from the shelf, and headed out for the gardens where he could recline on a bench, smoking that long, thin pipe of his.
Sundermount: Sleeping in a Silk Shell
He’d needed to replenish his stocks, and the foot of Sundermount was a good place to do so. The wooded area was thick with vegetation, and he was developing a keen eye for the medicinal plants of Thedas. He would pause occasionally to take small cuttings, scrape bark from a tree, or carefully dig up roots and bulbs.
As he carefully cut the stem of a royal elfroot, he noticed something among the purple-tinted leaves. A chrysalis - and one he didn’t recognize. He’d already cut the plant it was on, so, very delicately, he plucked the stem it had made its home and placed it in one of the drawers of his Medicine Pack. It could go through its cycle safely in his quarters, and he’d get to observe one of nature’s many fascinating processes. Besides, he was curious what might come out.
Hightown: What Looks Like an Elf But Isn’t an Elf
It was a handsome alembic - crystal clear blown glass set on an ornate copper stand. He’d been looking for equipment to start applying his studies into Thedosian medicine and he certainly wasn’t one to settle for subpar equipment.
He’d been aware of the shopkeeper watching him like a hawk as he’d wandered between the shelves. There was no actual rule against elves being in the upscale, Hightown store - after all, servants were sent to pick up equipment and ingredients all the time - but the Medicine Seller didn’t look like a servant. The shop owner wasn’t sure what he looked like besides an elf, and an elf which carried himself clearly with airs above his station. The voluminous sleeves and the hefty wooden pack the Medicine Seller carried were also a cause for concern - they were the sorts of things where small, expensive pieces of merchandise could vanish into very quickly.
When he picked up the alembic to check the price, it was the last straw from the shop owner, he rose from his seat, nostrils flared.
”I hope you’ve got the coin to pay for that!” he said abruptly, nostrils flared and an accusatory finger pointed at the Medicine Seller.
“Of course,” came the Medicine Seller’s silky reply. He didn’t even turn to spare the shopkeeper a glance. “I am merely checking the price.”
The elderly man looked utterly incensed at the casual dismissal, and his face turned a peculiar shade of puce as his temper flared. This was probably not going to end well.
Wildcard: The Luck of the Draw
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no subject
He smiles at the Medicine Seller when he approaches. "He was being a jerk for no reason. No one deserves that." And Prompto likes to think that people in the Inquisition, but especially the Rifters, should have each other's backs. "What was his problem anyway? A big assumption to make that someone won't have money. It still wouldn't be right, but I'd get it if you came in here with clothes falling off of you and empty pockets."
no subject
He shrugged. He was about as much of an elf as Prompto was, but that didn't stop people's own preconceptions. Whatever the case, it was finished now.
Still, it seemed an odd place to find Prompto. He hadn't seemed like someone with any inclinations of being any sort of apothecary.
Then he remembered the camera.
"Are you looking for chemicals to develop photos?"
That was how cameras worked, right?
no subject
"I have them already, though I was sort of hoping to find natural replacements for once they run out." Not that he's sure what would be a viable alternative, especially since he doesn't really have the film to waste to test out different things. "Also was looking for some flasks. You looking for stuff for your medicinal wares?"