Bemused, the perfumist cocked their head to one side, confused as to why Kaus would be embarrassed. They noted his flushed cheeks and wondered idly whether it had anything to do with their own demeanor. They had, after all, been accused of being a dog chasing a bone in the past, sometimes so fixated on results that they neglected the feelings around them. Perhaps they had pushed too hard?
“I don’t find you ignorant at all,” Faine responded sincerely. “On the contrary, I quite enjoy the perspective of a newcomer. Sometimes I forget what it’s like to smell a thing for the first time, and that can greatly impact what I decide to use.”
There was a hint of wistfulness and melancholy in speaking this small bit of truth. For the briefest of moments, they recalled a time when their mother had said the exact same thing. Her hands had always been busy, harvesting and organizing and bottling away as she tested her child on every new scent.
Faine shook their head, forcing themselves back to the present. They resumed business as usual while her presence laid fresh on their mind.
As the Fae spoke, they were rearranging bottles again, this time with slower, more careful movements. Their hands circled some into a neat row while rotating others out, eyes on the labels at all times. A calmness had washed over them, tempering their motions and thoughts. Perhaps it was just their imagination, but it almost felt like Mother was guiding their hands with her gentle touch, as she had done so many times when they were small and inexperienced.
“You’ve been more than helpful, Lord Kaus.” Faine assured. “Without you, none of this could have been done. I can only hope we create something together that will do your sister’s extraordinary spirit justice.”
Faine stopped eventually, hands frozen in the air, eyes scanning the row of amber bottles back and forth. With a low mhm of satisfaction, they pushed forth a larger, empty bottle and began adding measured drops of each scent. Five of this, seven of that. One more of amber before a quick swirl mixed them all together. They only used enough to fill a tiny portion of the bottle before they tested with their nose. A quirk of an eyebrow or shake of the head later they would be back at it again, adding more of some and less of others the next round. All the while, they kept score of the number of drops in their head, having long outgrown the need for written record.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Faine inquired, aware in some distant part of their mind that this entire process might be terribly dull to the youthful Avialae, “is there a memory of your sister that you are especially fond of? I don’t doubt you have many, but perhaps there is one in particular that stands out.”
While they listened, they continued working, gradually filling up the bottle until its contents reached about three quarters full. At that point, Faine pulled out a clear bottle of plain, filtered gin. The smell of it cut through the air once the cork was pulled with a satisfying pop!
The perfumist grinned. This was always their favorite part.
Common ❀Valasren
