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[Open]
WHAT: Various starters
WHEN: Throughout March/Drakonis
WHERE: Kirkwall proper and surrounding areas
NOTES: Will update as needed
KIRKWALL
a. The Gallows Living Quarters - Spring Cleaning---
His old room seemed to be unexpectedly intact. It was true that most of the potions and poultices and herbs had either been given to the infirmary or tossed out, and the more expensive tools and knickknacks he'd acquired on his previous adventures in Thedas had been sold. No great loss - the Medicine Seller collected things like a magpie - the room would soon be cluttered with all his nonsense again.
Not that he'd asked about having it back. It had been his before, and he doubted any roommate(s) would appreciate the late nights where he was mixing strange and pungent ingredients. It seemed a good enough reason to him and protocol was not his strong suit anyway.
The only problem was that it looked like it hadn't been dusted in nearly the year he'd been gone. Which was a better state it was in than when he first came here. Silver lining and all that.
The shelves and the low table and desk were vigourously dusted, along with every other corner and crevice of the room. He'd taken a broom and mop to the floor while the thick rugs hung out the windows to have the dust shaken out of them. Cobwebs were swept away and any remaining spiders were gently but firmly sent off into the wide world outside to make their fortune. Within the afternoon, it was spotless, though the same could not be said of the Medicine Seller who looked uncharacteristically dirty and disheveled.
b. The Gallows Library - Bookworm---
The Medicine Seller was not ideal to have in the library. Not because he was particularly noisy or disruptive - on that front he was the perfect guest. The problem was literally everything else. The Medicine Seller's method of research was to pick out every book he found interesting, select one, start reading, come upon something he didn't know or understand, and then get up to go dig up any potential books on the matter, open one up, read until he got to something else he didn't know or understand, rinse and repeat.
Needless to say his workspace was cluttered. And there he was, sprawled out in a comfy armchair, smoking contentedly with the book you need in the absolute mountain of materials he hadn't yet touched.
c. Lowtown Markets - Remedies to Mend---
The Medicine Seller sometimes set up shop here. He had no stall or sign - usually he just picked whatever spot on the side of the road that he could squeeze into and laid out his wares on a cloth. He didn't shout across the market square either - he was quite quiet and demure, simply watching the passersby. That being said, the bottles and jars and boxes and little paper packets were all bright and colourful and strange, that there were a good number who stopped to browse, and even occasionally purchase something.
...Much to the chagrin of the neighboring alchemist who redoubled his efforts in yelling people over to his stall and casting nasty looks to his unwanted neighbor who seemed, for all the world, utterly oblivious.
SUNDERMOUNT
a. Sundermount Base - Sprouting---
Early spring at the foot of the mountain was terribly inviting to someone like the Medicine Seller, and he made regular treks along the deer trails to enjoy the clean air and absence of the city noise. More than just needing to get away from the walls of the city, he also needed to replenish his stock, and many young herbs would be in bloom this time of year. Sighting a bit of greenery from the corner of his eye, his choice to trek out this early in spring was validated.
"Ah... fuki."
No he wasn't swearing. Among the dull grays and browns of the dead or drowsing foliage, there were splotches of vibrant green; butterbur shoots. He uprooted a number of the bulbous shoots, examining each one like it was some precious treasure, before wrapping them in a cloth and stowing them away in the recesses of the medicine pack.
b. South of Sundermount - Hanami (Late Drakonis)---
At this time of year, he'd have made his way north from Okinawa to Hanshu, following the blooming of the trees. He didn't have the luxury of chasing such fancies in Thedas - the anchor in his hand saw to that. Regardless, when he got out the city, he made it a point to take a route where trees were blooming. There weren't many but the Free Marches were far enough north that a few snowy white buds and blooms had popped up in the overgrown orchard of an abandoned farmstead.
It was odd that it had been left so long. The land here seemed good, albeit overgrown. He was no farmer, however. Perhaps something he didn't know had soured the place. Though given that it was wedged between a city of horrors, a mountain of dark tales and half a day's trek to the Bone Pit, it was likely something much more in the Medicine Seller's purview that had kept anyone from reclaiming the property.
But he had time enough to satisfy his curiosity. There was the much more pressing matter that this was the first burst of warmth in weeks, and he hadn't had a smoke all day.
The pipe was produced from the folds of his robe, lit, and the smoke inhaled as he watched the decrepit old farmhouse, his eyes unblinking.
no subject
"Many of these, yes. Though some of these do not exist in Thedas or are from so far away, they are prohibitively expensive."
He opened the bottom draw of his medicine box, and, piece by piece, he seemed to come up with several bottles and jars of oils, lye, and even a large corked leather flask of purified water that should, in no way have been able to fit in the drawer on its own, let alone with other items.
"I can, of course, suggest adequate substitutes. You intend to make soap, yes?"
no subject
Not nice, but industrious, aware of supply chains. Also concerned with and knowledgeable of hygiene.
no subject
"For your base; almond oil, beeswax, and elfroot seed oil would all be reliable substitutes. The latter two in particular have the least common allergens."
Various bottles and jars were laid out for her perusal.
"I have a supply of the elfroot seed oil, though I recently used up my supply of beeswax."
He began to line up the little bottles of essential oils alongside the others.
"Lavender and cedarwood are easy enough to acquire. Tea tree, clove and orange less so, but not impossible. Plum is usually a pleasant enough replace the latter."
no subject
"I'll take what's easiest, for now." She needed to play with the recipes anyway. Build molds. That part might at least keep her amused for a little while. Eventually she'd find someone else to hand that all off to, if the things sold.
"I'll leave you some coin to spend on it, if you keep an eye on for the other ingredients."
The less common ones that she would rather wait for a possible windfall than pay for at cost.
no subject
Removing the lid, he carefully stowed away the little bottles and jars, slipping bits of paper between them so any jostling wouldn't caused them to break or leak.
"You will probably get a better deal."
And as if to say why without actually putting it into words, he lightly tapped the pointed tip of his ear.
He wasn't an elf, but he looked like one and to the ignorant and untrained eyes he could pass as simply some weird Dalish. Particularly disliked in the human city.
no subject
"Right," she agrees, mostly impatient with the whole thing. She had absolutely no problem with treating individuals as inferior to herself, but institutionalized discrimination disinterested her. For one, she did not subscribe to institutions, and for two literally anyone could still be useful being inferior.
"I've met more species than these pissants could count," she considers, and then says, "You're not even an elf, are you."
no subject
The lid clicked shut on the box of oils and he set it down before her.
"People always see what they want to see."
no subject
"If you say so."
It's not like she cares enough about... literally anyone... to argue about that.