Back to Work [Solo]

[Whisper]

10th of Spring, 512 AV Crushing vines never seemed to ever get anywhere near as much of their valuable liquids from them, but she couldn't think of any other way with the tools she had. She had hoped one day to find some type of clamping device that could squeeze out the liquids more... efficiently. But for the time being, she will simply scrape the green gunk from her mixing bowl and hopefully use what liquid did come from it in a poison. She cursed herself for isolating herself during the winter which caused what few connections she had to disappear. She was a nobody and if she wanted constant sales, she had to work constantly to be somebody; Hopefully one day soon. The isolation was bit of a habit formed a long time ago when her mother was still alive (Whisper had presumed her dead years ago, feeling it best to focus on the tasks at hand). Something in the nature of Layla made her keep to herself, even though Ravok's winter's were no where near harsh. Come to think of it, whenever her mother made a point to want to leave Ravok, it was right before or during winter. A curious note, but she didn't know what to make of it so she ignored the thought. Ryek didn't seem to mind staying inside though, so she didn't bother to go out whenever she didn't need to. But now it is spring! Certain plants are blooming and murderers and killers are becoming more active again, so now she would need to get her stock filled again. Which is what she was trying to do now but, as usual, the vines were giving her trouble. She sighed and laid down the tools she was working with and stood up to check on her "moss farm". A few days ago while out in the streets looking for moss, she had took a moment to note where the plant grew. Her mother had told her long ago that it needed a lot of water to grow, but Whisper had already saw first hand that it didn't always grow near water and sometimes there was no standing water at all. It irritated her that she had no formal education past what skills her mother taught her because otherwise she would know plenty about vegetation. The "moss farm" was a section of wall outside her door to the canal where the water splashes up onto the wall a few inches. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to give the poisons a little kick. A little kick being a poison to make the victim just a little sluggish, that's all. It was disappointing at times, but it was something and some people needed an edge, no matter how small, for a cheap price. She crouched on her "dock", which was actually just a few pieces of wood jutting out from the doorstep and a small wooden pole to hold the rickety boat in place, and tried to gently pull the moss off the wall. It resulted in crumbling away in her hands, but she received a small pile in the middle of her palm as a reward for her untrained herbalist skills. She paused to chuckle at the name etched into the side of her boat. Driftwood was the name she gave to the old boat that was almost as old as she was. It was another one of those possessions her mother had "acquired" years ago.

[Whisper]

She went back to her table and set the moss down with an audible sigh which peaked Ryek's attention. He gave a caw and opened his wings a bit, pacing a little on his perch. "I'm fine, love." she tossed back over her shoulder. He didn't seem satisfied at the answer, but he settled back down on the branch. The encounter made her smile, the fact that her bird worried about her, or rather, seemed like he worried about her. She knew he understood her or her intentions, there was no doubt about that, but she sometimes felt she could understand him too. It was disappointing to face a truth that he was just a bird, but he was her loving companion and she could settle for that. Laying the moss in the mixing bowl, she pour a small amount of water in and started to grind and pulverize the two components with a hard tool similar to an apothecary's tool. Soon it was a semi-gooey mix, but it was still lumpy from pieces of the moss not fully grounded, and the perfectionist inside her came out and she kept grinding until most of the lumps were gone. Her production gave her no more substances than the end of her finger, but it was enough for now. She scraped it into a small glass jar that had varying colors of the mixture already inside from earlier attempts. "Almost enough to put on a flame..." she said with another sigh. She needed a teacher. One poorly made poison was just taking too long to make with what knowledge she had. She had a teacher last year, but she hadn't seen Irr in some time after she joined the Ebonstryfe. She wasn't the best poisoncrafter, but she was better than herself. She needed to find someone and soon. She was tired of living like she was and she wanted to move up. She wanted to be able to create poisons for great assassins, mercenaries, and warriors. Maybe even some for higher ranking Ebonstryfe! That would be something... "Ebonstryfe..." she said softly, stopping in her work to ponder the thoughts she has had time to collect. The childhood hatred of Rhysol and his minions passed slowly with age as she had come to admire the god in some aspects. It was misguided hatred, though she still does hold some contempt for them and their beliefs. While she still does not worship Rhysol in the least, she actually expanded the gods and goddess she does worship, though all must remain a secret within Ravok. She still worships Akajia for the protection of the shadows, even though the childish enthusiasm she had for the goddess is now gone. She has come to appreciate Caiyha, Dira and Kihala, and even Yshul over the past few months. Not having to worry about where she lays her head at night and being around things that remind her of her mother helped ease her day to day tension and her thoughts flow a bit more freely to contemplate things like the gods, not including the recent turmoil which only confuses her. It also has caused her to space out while handling harmful materials like the mixing tool dripping goop onto her fingers. "Agh! Damn it!" she exclaimed, shaking her slowly numbing hand. It was so weak it only numbed her skin a little, but still a weird feeling. She grabbed a dirty cloth and wiped it off and threw it to the other side of the table, continuing to shake her affected hand. Ryek was already cawing and "scolding" her for her accident. "Shush you!" she scolded back, but it was quite clear she was not serious but merely retorting to his scolding. She made a mental note not to space-out while working with poisons no matter their strength and counted her blessings that it wasn't a damaging poison.

[Whisper]

After waiting an hour or so for the numbness to fade, she emptied out her bag onto her bed and slung it over her shoulder in case she bought or found something while she was out. She gave a sharp whistle as she neared the door and Ryek was in the air and flying towards the opening door. He soared out and up, using the currents to glide upwards. Whisper watched him climb for a few moments from the doorstep before hoisting herself up to wall, using the familiar finger-holes to scale the wall to the street above. The ritualistic chore of climbing made that particular wall easy, but only because she knew each crack so well from every departure and arrival to her home. She looked around at the damaged buildings, thanking the gods that she lived far away from the temple and that her side of the city didn't get hit two hard by the storm. Now that wasn't to say there wasn't any damage, in fact it was hard to practice her parkour around her home now since she couldn't trust the stability of some structures. She started in the direction of the Merchant's Ring, hoping the storm didn't hurt the shipments of goods too much, but she had to actually walk now. She would rather be running, jumping through the air, and rolling across roofs to get there, but it just wasn't worth the possible injury; She just couldn't afford to get injured. It was such a long and boring walk though! The only thing to entertain herself was her own thoughts and they weren't much help. Maybe I'll come across something no one is attending and I could take it for "safekeeping". she thought, but as she passed yet another Ebonstryfe, that thought vanished as there would be no way she could pull off something like that with the increased activity of Rhysol's minions. Poisons aren't illegal but thievery is, what kind of twisted logic is that? The playful thought made her chuckle, but it was fun to play it out. Thievery is merely... "displacing" an object and "placing" it somewhere else. Poisons kill people or lead to them being killed. She'd rather have something stolen from her than her being dead, wouldn't everyone? Not that she minded, selling poisons were her main source of income afterall. Coming up on the Merchant's Ring, it wasn't a pretty sight, but some were still managing. She took a glance around at some of the worse off buildings, hoping to find maybe a bauble or something, but it seems she was too late for that as any merchandise on the surface was either taken or already reclaimed by the owners. It would cause too much attention if she tried to look through the damaged buildings so that was out of the question. A quick look in her coin purse was all that she needed to convince herself not to go further in, seeing that she might not even make it through this spring with her money. Another reason she had to work harder at her poisons. Or what about getting a second job? That wasn't out of the question, but what she do besides low-level manual work? Shoving that thought out for later, she rerouted herself for the city entrance, hoping they weren't too edgy to not let her out and practice some herbalism.

[Whisper]

Right, because she knew that was going to happen. Now after being turned away, she started back home. She needed two things fast and she needed them badly. The first thing is a teacher. The second thing is a steady source of materials to use. Both of these things were being difficult to obtain and they were already wearing on her nerves. She could try to get into the school here and learn the correct way of crafting poisons, but that most likely will require money. Money is something she doesn't have because she can't make enough poisons or good ones for that matter. It was a vicious cycle and she desperately wanted out of it. It was a mere stroke of luck that she inherited her old home through her mother's absence, but even that was only triggered when she swallowed her stubbornness and went for an official job at the Center. She sighed, wishing she knew what she had to do to trigger her good luck. Maybe tomorrow will bring better fortune.

[Verilian]

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