Smoke and Vapors

It is at long last, an actual, truly nice day for shopping. Thus, Auranar and Verna are not the only people out in this bustling market place trying to find what they need for meals, and various other purposes. In fact, Auranar is at the moment quite distracted by a bookseller who is offering various tomes for a seemingly reasonable price. As if they need any more books in their home. "How much for the cook book?" Her interest is seemingly vague, and she tilts her head at the resulting estimate of its worth. "And you're certain it's authentic cusine?"

The book itself boasts one hundred and one recipes from Charn. Which is not perhaps a place worth visiting, but is known for it's unique flavor profiles.

There is always cause for more books. Space can be managed afterwards. There are, if need be, multi-dimensional storage methods available, afterall. Verna is wholly supportive of books, certainly those concerning food and Aura. The geographic location of the subject matter? Perhaps not so delightful in her opinion.

She looks on from Auranar's side, a satchel of collected purchases-to-date on her opposing side. "That seems a generous price..." which cues mild suspicion in her voice "... though there has been a marked influx in Charneth travelers to the region, which could make such items far more readily available. Are you interested in that particular cuisine?"

Auranar straightens and smiles at Verna. "Just thinking about future houseguests. If Aryia ever comes to visit she might appreciate something that's familiar? Don't you think?" She seems honestly curious. She's a little uncertain to be honest if the noisome memories of the region have made the food sour in memory, or if there's still some good memories of flavors from her homeland. Meanwhile the merchant in question seems to be uncertain if he's made a sale or not, and wafts his eyes between the two women.

"Ah. Of course." Of course Auranar would be thinking of future guests; ever the hostess. Perhaps they should consider enlarging one or more rooms... "She might appreciate that. I expect that her parents would, if they remain in the area or return to visit. There may be some ingredients less available here and some flavor combinations may be ... unusual compared to those in favor here..." It is not quite a warning, especially as she adds, "not that either would prove any challenge to you, my dear."

Auranar smiles at Verna. "Well I am aware of the difficulty of finding ingredients!" She shakes her head. "You remember all that effort it took to find something that could sit in for that herb that was from Llyranost?" She chuckles and takes Verna's hand. "I spent a week looking for it only to find out that the closest they had was basil! BASIL!"

She takes a moment to pay for the book, even if it never gets used for it's actual recipes, it'll be nice to have for reference and ideas. The man thanks her gratefully and she begins to move along to the next stall.

"Ah, yes, I do recall your frustration and disappointment," Verna agrees with Auranar as the two step from a bookseller. She offers to take the book from Aura to place into the growing contents in the Satchel of Market Acquisitions. "The two herbs did look remarkably similar, but the use was not for appearances." She is not quite as culinarily-inclined, thus the subtle (and not-so) differences were not as egregious to her.

Dirk comes lumbering on down the way, walking with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. He slows his pace a bit when he spies Auranar and Verna, but his smile brightens, and he turns to go meet them. "Oy, Missus Verna! Missus Auranar! All right?" He reaches up to tip his tricorne to them. "Lovely day fer a stroll in the market, innit?"

A repetitive tapping sound precedes the arrival of an elderly Goblin, who shuffles along leaning heavily on a cane. He wanders from stall to stall without hurry, without seemingly a care in the world. He pauses to peer at the book that Auranar buys, sniffing curiously, his ears perked at the conversation about herbs.

And with Dirk's arrival and cheery greetings to them both, Leetle takes a longer look at the book, trying to discern the name of the book. He seems about to grab a hold of Auranar's hand to stop it from moving, but thinks the better of it.

Auranar looks around for the person calling her name, handing the book over to Verna for redistribution and then offers a curtsy to Dirk as she spots him. "Pleasure to meet you again." She offers politely and then smiles with real warmth. "Yes, the weather has been wonderful today! I'm so glad that we're finally getting some sunlight." She glances toward the goblin nearby, wandering near her and Verna and her brow furrows in curiosity. "Ah... Can I help you sir?"

Verna follows the greeting call, and Auranar's gaze, to Dirk. "It is a most pleasant day, and to encounter you again. I trust all is well?" She lifts her free hand slightly in a gesture of greeting to the khazad, before shifting to the nearby, apparently aged, gobber. "Good day." There peering (and sniffing?) of the book are noted. "There are numerous additional books available at the stall we just departed, if you are interested."

Dirk plants his hands on his hips, puffing his burly chest up with a grin. "Aye, cannae complain! Sold me whole load o' furs an' leathers, so I've got coin in me pocket again. I was just thinkin' o' nippin' down tae the pub fer a few pints. When -doesn't- a dwarf want a pint, eh?" He rumbles with laughter, his good humor bright and infectious. Leetle's antics has the burly old snowbeard blinking curiously. "Er.... aye, it's as she says. Plenty o' books on offer. They probably even have another copy o' -that- one, I'll warrant."

The Gobbo has moved over to be near Verna, now that she has the book, which the wee man is still attempting to read. A hand wanders over his chest, searching several pockets, and eventually he pulls out a small pair of spectacles, which he balances on his nose.

"Hmmm?", he says, looking to Auranar. "Er, no, just curious about the name of the book." Leetle grins toothily, pausing to puff on his cigar, letting loose a few smoke rings to one side, watching them waft away on the breeze.

The book is labled '101 Recpies for Charnese Cooks', and likely contains a number of recipes from the region in question. Auranar smiles at Dirk's laughter and rolls her shoulders. "I have never had... a pint before myself. Though I have considered trying beer in some of the recipes that call for it!" She seems to be utterly honest about this line of thought.

Dirk boggles at Auranar, blinking owlishly. "Never had..." His beard quivers as he boggles and sputters. "Great Gilead's Ghost, lassie, that won't do at -all-! Beer's an important part o' the dwarven diet!" He thumps his barrel chest. "It's good fer ye! Makes yer beard grow!" He pauses. Blink blink. "Er. But then, ye don't -have- a beard, do ye? A-heh. Well. It's still good fer ye! Fer other reasons. I'm quite sure." A glance is given to Leetle and those smoke rings. He gives his beard a thoughtful tug. "Hrm. Not bad, lad, not bad. Technique could use a bit o' work, but not bad."

Verna echoes Auranar's smile, though it is more reserved, conservative, and-oh, it is gone already. Was it -really- there? "It is good to hear that your business is good, Dirk. I trust that you shall not invest -all- of the proceeds into fermented drink?" Auranar's note provokes less reaction from her than Dirk. "I always considered wine more pleasant. In moderation."

The follow-up from Dirk causes her to glance sidelong at Auranar. Not that the sylvanori has, desires, nor would, in fact, grow a beard from consuming liquid bread... though now the concept may have Verna attempting to form such a mental image. Failing, in all likelihood, nor does she try for more than a moment before looking back to the khazad and then the gobber.

The Goblin does a double-blink. "For Charnese Cooks?", he says in surprise, before lowing his voice. "Don't let any Sith see that. They might think you're out to eat them. Last time I flew through Charn, they had Sith on the menu." He pulls the spectacles from his nose. "Or so they say. Heard that they performed experiments on them. Didn't stay long enough to find out, just dropped our cargo, took our pay and skedaddled."

Leetle squints at Auranar. "You're not pulling my leg are you?", he grumps. Rubbing at his face, he goes with the change in conversation. "Ah yes, beer is an excellent ingredient. The upside is that while you get a very nice flavor, depending on the beer, the act of cooking removes most of the alcohol, so you can safely eat it and not get falling over drunk."

The Gobbo pulls the cigar from his mouth then, and snorts at Dirk. "I seriously doubt you could manage half a circle if you had two mouths t'blow it from." The cigar is stuffed back between his lips, and the ashes turn a bright red as he puffs. "And she's not a Khazad, if ya haven't noticed. Beards... pfffft."

Admittedly... the conversation is quite getting away from Auranar. "I... don't want a beard..." She murmurs, but it seems that the dwarf has already figured out that she probably can't grow one. At least she's hopeful that the realization has dawned upon him. Though the fact that there might be... Something like cannibalism in the cookbook that she just bought makes Auranar pale considerably. "What?" She looks at Verna more than a bit horrified. "They wouldn't sell a book like that in Alexandria would they? That's terrible."

Dirk looks back to Leetle. Now it's the gobber's turn to get boggled at. He looks between him and Auranar. Blink blink. "Dana's teats, I should -hope- not!" he says. "That's about the most terrible thing I -ever- heard! An' I've heard some pretty terrible things!" But then there's Leetle making that challenge. The old dwarf pulls himself to his full four-foot-eleven-and-a-half-inches height, puffing up his chest. "Oh, -that- what ye think, is it?" He digs his pipe and tobacco pouch, filling the bowl and striking a match to get it fired up. Soon enough, a billow of sweet cherry smoke is rising to join the musty cloud from the gobber's cigar. Fixing his gaze on Leetle, Dirk draws a steady pull, making the bowl glow hotly in his hand. Then, he puffs a series of three great, beautiful smoke rings, one after the next, and finishes by popping a smaller one through the larger. "Hah! Top -that-!" he says with a grin.

Verna blinks at the gobber. Twice. Her expression turns dour as Auranar's pales. "That is absurdly unlikely." Turning to Auranar, she is more certain, or wishes to appear so. "No. While there are many impolite, cruel, or even deplorable practices common to Charn, that is not one."

She reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose with her thumb and finger before focusing back upon the gobber. "They hunt all types to enslave: sith-makar, humans, khazad, gobbers, and syldanyari, all. Rumors and tales will always abound of worse."

Leetle takes another puff of his cigar. "Are ya telling me you have not heard of the horrible things that Charn has done to the Sith? I would think people would be appalled." The Gobbo leans in closer. "They apparently use Sith as magical sources. Just suck out all their blood as magical power. And worse." The Gobbo eyes Dirk and shrugs, "The Charnese do terrible things to people. I mean, you do know who their gods are, yes?"

He shrugs. "I would hazard a guess that there are Sith here in Alexandria, or at Mictlan, who could confirm these things. I would bet a good dinner, actually."

Leetle eyes Dirk as he works himself up towards a stroke, and watches the smoke rings float off and away. He tugs at an imaginary beard, "Hrm. Not bad, lad, not bad. Technique could use a bit o' work, but not bad."

Auranar seems... a bit faint. "Verna..." She murmurs, backing away from the smoke-competition. "I think... Can we go home now?" She's lowered her voice and talking just to the woman at her side. "Please?" She seems as if she might be ill or worse.

Dirk's face starts turning red as Leetle makes fun of his beautiful smoke rings. "Oooh, why youuuuuu--!" He looks about ready to explode, but then he notices Auranar getting faint. He looks worriedly at her for a moment, taking a step back so as not to crowd her or Verna. "Och, lookit what ye've done! Poor lass is havin' a fit o' the vapors now!"

Any response to Leetle is overidden at Auranar's worsening reaction. Verna steps with/back to her, brow creases adding to her now-fretting frown. "Yes, of course." An arm slips to the sylvanori's back in support and statement of presence. With the shift in priorities, she offers a brief, "Excuse us" to the gentlemen belatedly as she starts to aid and encourage Auranar on their way.

The Gobbo rolls his eyes at the Khazad, and nods understandingly at Verna as she escorts Auranar away. He doffs his hat and offers a polite bow, before puffing on his cigar once more. "Oh, vapors.", he says, once the ladyfolk are out of earshot. "Like you didn't just puff like a chimney in a vain attempt to prove just how much better a smoker you are."

Leetle snorts, and taps at the ground with his cane. "I played my part, but so did you." The Gobbo hawks and spits on the ground, before turning and limping away slowly, leaning on his cane.

Dirk scowls angrily as the gobber takes his leave. "Well I -am-," he grunts, tucking his pipe in the side of his mouth. He turns to head on along his way, sending up angry little puffs as he goes, muttering into his beard.

-End