Caelia Kerrigan

Caelia Kerrigan

Dawndrinker
Weaver

Walking through the gardens was something she ought to do more often, but Caelia seemed to enjoy staying indoors in the dim light than let her pale complexion be warmed in the sun. Already, she was turning pink from the heat of the day, but was that sun nice. What had brought her out from the indoors was the quaint idea of restocking on new scents to wear. This started as a project a few summers ago, after she had read in some book on the noted process for such a thing. It was simple enough, the instruction had read clear and patiently.

Beeswax was never scarce and all she needed was a good amount of petals and leaves to extract their scents.

Only thing was, now she had no idea what flowers would interest her in capturing their fragrance. Along with her sense of taste, only strong and striking scents were favoured by her due to years of ingesting poisons, such as her interest in the Pursuit of Death. Inoculating herself as she studied it after becoming Sworn, Death had brought her a dark appetite. She supposed that perhaps it was not a bad thing to fall back onto her favourites...

Yet it was the Wyld that aided her beneath the unrelenting rays of the sun.

"Lemon leaves." She murmured to herself, knowing that such a signature was one that rarely disappointed her. It was what summer should be, and she did enjoy drinking the lemon juice drinks at the Knoll. It was the snap of tangy and tart, the sour sense that delighted her tongue in the way it rested upon it. It was enough to break through the dulled sense of taste, and thus, a favourite.

In the garden of quiet; with no one in sight, Caelia rushed her way in a small jog to where the fruit trees grew under close care of various attendants. A new lemon tree could be seen, not quite as large as the others, but notably from the Highlands. Sweet lemons that were ideal for eating, but after sniffing it's leaves, it did not hold a hold scent she could detect in comparison to the sour lemon leaves. She gave a deep inhale, hoping to catch a stray scent in vain.

@Matvi Iramene
 
"Heard the diplomatic party goers brought that one back from the summer festival," Syr Iramene said some steps behind the illusive Syr Kerrigan. "You can thank that little thing for all those chilled drinks you've been enjoying hidden away at the Knoll," he smiled, an empty bucket in his hands. "Real miracle it made the journey from so far away," he added.

His brow screwed up as he walked passed his fellow knight. Gave a few steps around the green bushel of the young lemon tree. "Looks like it wont be giving us too many more lemons this season though," he tut his tongue. Reached up to grab one lonely little round, so brightly hidden behind the deep plumes of green leaves. "Not without a bit of shroud weaving," he teased as the little lemon came free, and the branch bounced back easily into place.
 
Caelia straightened and lifted her gaze to see Matvi, and a grin broke out across her face. "Oh, is that your secret, Syr Iramene?" In fact, he was right in that the lemon trees always bore them fruit, but most were picked from the trees already this season. Something she knew well, for many a time had Cael shown up to the Knoll and unloaded her deep pockets of the lemons she procured from the gardens, surprising the bartenders with a sheepish grin and an innocent shrug.

Had he caught on? That she was both sides generous and thief?

"I am sure the Wyld is not fussed that I bend the growing cycles just a little." She pinched her thumb and forefinger to the tiniest gap between them, scrunching her face delicately. After a chuckle, Cael then picked a leaf off from the diplomatic Highland tree, and one from another tree, gifted from an orchard not too far from here.

"I am collecting scents." She crushed each leaf to release a stronger scent and lifted it to her nose, giving gentle inhales to compare them both. "The Highland one is not as strong as the other. I need one that smells the strongest, it's just for the life of me, I cannot remember which tree I used the leaves from last..." Had things changed over a year ago when she last made a batch of solid perfume? Her thoughts would not cooperate to recall, not when the Medicant was before her.

"What do you think?"

Caelia offered the two leaves for Matvi to smell, offering him a soft smile as she waited.

@Matvi Iramene
 
Matvi spread his arms in a playful shrug. "I wouldn't know," his hands fell to his side, and he glanced about conspiratorially, "But I hear Master Brambleshell has been on the hunt for a nefarious bud bloomer," he glanced at her with a smile, and went back to tending the little tree. "So I'd be careful if I were you, Syr Kerrigan," he eyed for another lemon. "That old turtle has a nasty bite," he spoke from experience. "Metaphorically, of course,"

As she picked her leaf and strode away, he listened, gently pushing aside the branches to reach with careful fingers at the deep yellow fruit there in. Tips of finger came round the rind, and an easy flex tested the tension.

Not ready to fall, just yet. His fingers let go, and his hand slipped away.

With a gentle rustle of leaves, he turned as her sentence came to an end, and saw the two leaves held out before him. "Hmm," he hmmed. Quirked a brow and stroked his chin. Bent low to take a whiff of one. "Sweet," shift small, and took a smell of the other. "Sour," he righted up and smirked. "I'd bet coin on the sour one," he pointed, "Didn't have the sweeter ones before,"
 
Her cheeks burned pink, and not from the sun's warmth. Right he was.

Caelia smiled lightly and smelled the stronger leaf, happy with the scent it gave off. A classic fragrance that paired with quite an array of other scents that could be found in this garden. "Yes, a good choice this is." In the other hand, Caelia twirled the sweeter leaf between forefinger and thumb, until it blossomed in brown spots, and slowly grew to take over the entirety of green, before beginning to fall apart from a decay born from thought and intention. She released the remainder, watching it fall flat and glum.

Wandering the short distance back to the Highland lemon tree, she eyed the not-quite-ready fruit he had made to inspect, and waited only a few moments before twisting it from itself branch and offering it to Matvi. A grin gave away that she was guilty of being the bud bloomer. "Well, Brambleshell is yet to catch me, I think. Unless, of course, you would betray this budding friendship between us and offer him my name."

At this she gasped dramatically, face reflecting mock shock. Stifling her laughter poorly, she pulled back her hand that held the sweet lemon, out from his immediate reach. This now was her temporary hostage. The oils on the rind would coat her hand, and the promise of fresh aroma would be left there for hours to come.

"We would need to strike a deal." Caelia lifted her chin. "You help me pick some floral scents and I just may leave you here with your life and your lemons." She grinned.
 
Matvi wore a self satisfied look. "Keeping secrets and striking deals," he pulled back the hand he had reached out with to take the fruit. "My my, Syr Kerrigan, aren't you a tricksome one," he could smell the sweet scent of the bright citrus wafting about the air.

He tilt his head in welcome. "You'll have to do a fair bit better than that, if you are to win me my silence," he teased.

Raised his eyebrows with a waggle, and stepped around her, onto the next little specimen his eyes did spy.

"Let me pick the next scent," a gentle shift of the leaves with hand. "Then, my lips will be sealed," he said with a pluck of a new choice.
 
Tricksome, yes. Caelia snuck the lemon she had taken into the leather bag resting at her hip, all the while watching him as he skirted around her to pick at something.

His challenge was met with raised brows once she rounded to follow where had wandered to, but the smile was hard to keep from her lips at the prospect of someone else having input to her day's task. After all, it was invigorating to have a challenge be accepted.

"Oh?" Mischief blossomed in her stare. "I have faith in that of your taste for blending flavours, but Syr Iramene, your nose?" Her words were meant to stir trouble. What sort of contender to this challenge will he be?

Caelia clicked her tongue, as if the smiling dawnling was chastising him. "You may very well pick the next scent, but you would need to know that it is for a solid perfume. It may very well pair nicely with the lemon leaves, but Syr Iramene, there is another thing to consider when making such a choice: I will not have you pick the first thing that comes to mind to buy your silence. I want your word made on the merit of a scent that surprises me."
 
A sour turn to the curl on his lips.

Tart. None so much to ruin all the sweetness about. A faux hurt, but clear enough that he still enjoyed the game.

"Scent and taste go hand in hand, fair Caelia," the bartender let on. Plucked a third lemon from the tree, and felt its zest spray from the pores of its electric skin. "Aspirant as I am, in the pursuit of bartending," he said as he tucked away another little lemon that had come ripe. "I've come to appreciate the the value of show," he said with a proud look in his eye. "Surprise," he added, as he strode beside the troublemaker.

Measured and steady steps that took him past her.

"I've got just the scent," he motioned her welcome with a tilt of his head
 
Only certain flavours ignited on her tongue, certain components put together in a way could break through the poisons she had taken to ingest, or better yet, accompany the hints of taste. Perhaps Matvi remembered that? The bartenders surely spoke amongst themselves about their customers, and surely all agreed her order of 'squeeze every living zest and citrus out of those lemons' would have been a topic of conversation.

So quick she was to open her mouth with retort, but Iramene walking past her and inviting her to follow made her fall quiet with intrigue. Obedient to the show he now begun, the opening act to a challenge met. This may have been the most exchange of words between them, but Cael was not ready to put their chat to pause. Turning to follow him, she skipped to keep up with his head start, grinning.

"Perhaps you have a better taste for these sorts of things, Syr Iramene." She snorted, unable to keep a straight face. "Although I am curious to see what you would pick." She had always picked a couple of fragrances she wished for herself, but never had she asked the opinion of another of what they would think would compliment her. Her own nose could not be trusted... in truth...

Caelia often paired a sweet, floral scent with the lemon, a yearly reminder of a summer she would miss but could not wait to be rid of the heat. Perhaps this year she would create more than one signature scent.

"If you would like, I could show you how to make solid perfume. Perhaps then you could make a gift for someone special."
 
To see her skip and laugh, all smiles and play, was infectious really. Apropos, Matvi thought as he kept the full spread of his smile in check, for the poison drinker to be so warm and sweet.

"I have taste," he said, a play at coy. "Better or worse, it is mine all the same," he went on as they walked through the greenery. The tended and planned plots and beds of the gardens and rows of the orchards blended with the wyld scape of the woodlands and hills just beyond.

If you would like... then you could make a gift for someone special.

"Not an offer I would refuse," he nod. "If you would be so willing, then I would so like," he smiled a little wider, and with a few steps more came to stop at an arched trellis. The spiral of branches that twined about a carpentered frame belonged to a pear tree.

Spring blossoms long fallen, it bore its pendulous fruit in fat bunches that hung lazy in the breeze. But there two was another fruit, and delicate white orchids in bloom along the twisted vines that wound around the pear branches.

Matvi reached out and cupped the tender green stalks with forefinger and middle. "I've found at times a subtle base, can help bring out the accents of the bouquet around it," he detailed and plucked a few of the long stalks from the vine. Careful not to mangle it. Brought them to his nose and breathed them in, before he nod and offered them to her. "Selvaran Vanilla bean," he said with a proud hint of teeth.
 
Caelia could not help herself, leaning in to peer over his shoulder to see where it was his hands reached. The pears were not quite right for harvest, but Matvi did not procure a pear for her. Instead, her expressive face watched in wonderment as he presented her something she had never thought to pair with lemon leaves.

"Vanilla bean..." She repeated, taking it from his careful grasp and gave it a subtle sniff. It's sweetness filled her nose pleasantly and surpringly, and Caelia voiced her love of the scent immediately. "Oh, that is lovely!"

Her eyes widened with surprise, taking another whiff of it and delighting in the warmth it brought her. Vanilla itself had an intoxicating aroma about it, one she could not help but indulge in.

Point to Syr Iramene.

Perhaps she did require his expertise. All she knew to enjoy was the smell of roses and the freshness of citrus. Coincidentally, they were both her favourite teas to drink.

"Well now... I do not know how to extract the scent from this..." She wondered aloud, peering down at the pod. "Do I boil it?" It was what she did with the perfumer's alcohol and the lemon leaves, but such greenery could withstand such heat. This delicate thing held with such care was strange to her, but her excitement to use it was clear.
 
There was the slightest hint of pride in Matvi's eyes, while his smile kept its cool little crook. "It is an involved process," he let on. "Curing alone can take months at times, if the weavers wise in the ways of the cure aren't disposed to the task," he half laughed at the absurdity of it.

"If they are, well, we can cut the cycle to a fortnight, though the risk of losing the batch of beans increases," he let the timeline sink in, but offered up the little pod in his hands. "Lucky for you," he smiled the wider. "I happen to know where we can get access to a few, readied pods,"
 
A fortnight! That was just as long as it'd take to get the first few scents for the perfume being pressed into beeswax...

The idea of what used to be a simple task was becoming more difficult as Matvi spoke, and not until Caelia lifted her gaze to meet his, spying the widening smile on his facade, she felt a hope renew within her. Had he always been such a conversationalist? Or perhaps it was the spark of expertise, the passion in which he knew his craft...

She blinked, surely as she thought she imagined it, but then he made mention of the readied pods.

Her expression had gone from crestfallen to excited in a matter of sheer seconds, and could not help lightly punching his arm for leading her through a series of emotions. "Devious!" She gasped before letting out a couple of surprised laughs.

The fresh pod was wagged before him in chastisement. Shaking her own head and releasing a sigh in mock dramatics, Caelia scrunched her face as she could not believe she had believed him so easily before the reveal. "Right. We have the lemon leaves, vanilla bean... surely there was one more scent to add? I am fond of roses, do you think that would go well with the vanilla?"

Caelia didn't want their time to end so soon. She liked how he added a little something to her day, and that he as a person was just infectious in the way he merely... existed. Pink threatened at her cheeks again, feeling a touch of warmth settle there. Perhaps she could make multiple different fragrances? Was that odd to want to spend more time in someone's presence? For Caelia, it was. Yes, she got along with many of her fellow knights, but she was still the type to keep to her own for most hours of the day.
 
"Ouch!" he played along. Neverminding the sting that came with the playful jab as he rubbed at the warm ache left in her knuckle's wake. Though hearing her laugh got rid of most of the pepper that saw his brows pinch.

His smile small as she wagged her finger at him, and his eyes sharp with a pleased satisfaction. A nod for each ingredient she listed. Until she mentioned the roses.

"Too sweet," he said without missing a beat. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed as he scoured his memories. Lost in a well of his own thoughts for a long and odd moment. "Rose hips, however," he said to a point. His eyes come to life again as they found her. "Tarter, with fruity flavors and aromas that would pair well with the earthy sweetness and bright bouquet we've assembled so far," he said with confidence.

A suggestion. At least in his mind.
 
Caelia listened to his every word, utterly caught up in the fact that Syr Iramene was so knowledgeable in this field of pairing tastes and scents. Earlier she had thought she had a good grasp on the subject, but she was a fool to believe herself on a similar level when her gift for ingesting poisons had altered her tongue and nose. She knew it then that he would win the challenge, and that the next time she presented another to him, she ought to make it more difficult.

Besides, she got to listen and watch him talk with that passion she often admired from afar.

A warm smile crossed her face, and Caelia regarded him equally. "Then perhaps I will save the white roses for the vase on my desk." They were her favourite after all, and perhaps made her biased towards her usual pairing of white rose and lemon leaves. A crutch perhaps; a safety net as they were scents that broke through the stagnant and dulled senses.

"I do appreciate your help, Syr Iramene. Since I have changed from my signature scents, I am afraid I have been going in blind." A soft chuckle here broke up her trailing words. "You see, for many years I have been attracted to the fragrance of oleander, and foxglove, and wisteria. Angel's Trumpet too. Those are toxic flowers, if you did not know." Here, she turned shy. Slowly, her boots took straying side steps towards the path that would lead to the flowering part of the gardens. Caelia knew the way well, having often taken a seat on an old bench somewhere lost between the jasmine.

This section of the garden seemed to always be in bloom, and not by her meddling! On their way through, her hand dropped to her side and gently brushed her fingers against velevety petals and snatching leaves. Her steps were still slow, not wanting to put too much distance between their conversation.

"I am like a bee pulled in by nectar of these flowers. Sometimes I crave to taste them and I do." Very, very few of her fellow Sworn knew this of her. It never seemed to come up in conversations for Caelia to pipe in this quirky fact about herself, but in the presence of Matvi? Caelia found herself wanting to tell him more about herself. "Over the years, my sense of taste has dulled. Flavours are never the same... but the tart bite of a lemon?"

Syr Kerrigan awarded him with a wide grin. "Must be something in the zest..."
 
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