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Posted: Sat Feb 09, 2019 11:20 pm
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the nose knows
What for? Soph asked gently. To want is to live. To express it is to let it air out rather than molder away within.
There was a pause in which Fela suddenly called on his judgment, which...He couldn’t smell them. Fela. Why. Secondhand sensation could only do so much. Oh...This one and that one, he supposed.
To know one is cherished across the furthest distances—perhaps consider that, rather than its shadow, he suggested. Finding a balance make up so much of life, I find. Acknowledge the longing, yes, but also the love. The good with the bad. Er. The bad with the good, respectively, in this case. Not that longing is bad at all, as I mentioned before, but the, ah, negative association you have with it... Soph coughed. That is to say: be kinder to yourself, Anakumath. You are alive and allowed desires.
Fela clapped, resolution written on her face, and plucked two bottles from her collection to bring to Martirae. “Right. So this one,” she began, holding up a bottle that looked almost like a lamp from stories of wish granting creatures, “is called Thieves. Have a sniff.” It smelled like gingerbread, but with something spicier to it, possibly from the desert markets. “And this one’s Sailor’s Delight. But it doesn’t smell like alcohol!” she joked, offering a regular rectangular-shaped bottle. It smelled of sandalwood, salt, and the sea—well, a tangier version anyway.
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Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2019 4:01 pm
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The Nose Knows
There was truth in Sophrosunth's advice, but there was also something about his words that, as far as Anakumath was envisioning her feelings, it didn't quite reach completely. I will try, she ceded, tucking away the knot of uncertainty, smoothing the blue's good intentions and kindness over it to keep from dealing with them for the time being.
Perhaps she understood Mictecath's desire to sneak into the boy's barracks to visit their siblings in the middle of the night a bit better than she thought she did.
Martirae had entertained herself with a few scents in silence as Fela did her own searching, but nothing so interesting that they weren't set aside when the bluerider approached with her offerings to smell. "Not quite. But close, perhaps," it was hard to say how they were off - simply, that they were off.
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Posted: Thu Feb 28, 2019 8:02 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 28, 2019 8:09 pm
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mind yourself
Ah, perhaps he had joked too much. Words were as much his blessing as they were his curse. I believe you. And you are quite right, the blue replied earnestly, hoping to soothe the nerves he had unwittingly riled. Perhaps that is not the most, ah, appropriate thing for jests. I apologize, sometimes I speak before I so much as think.
Which, given that a dragon did both at the same time, was a real accomplishment.
With a small, self-deprecating chuckle, he suggested, Shall we should find your hideaway before I tongue trap myself even more?
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Posted: Wed Mar 06, 2019 6:10 pm
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