A Noble Scent [Kala]

[Faine]

45 Frost 120

The last slivers of Northern lights waved and shimmered farewell, fading like jeweled smoke in the wake of morning's return. Down below, a lone Fae stood by their doorway, knee deep in fresh snow. They watched as their breath hit the frigid mountain air and turned into puffs of white, rising higher and higher before they, too, disappeared without a trace.

”You would laugh if you heard me now, Mother,they murmured, their smile bittersweet,but I think I’m actually looking forward to Spring.”

It was odd to most denizens of Kalzasi not to pine for Glade, for sunshine and shedding of coats and green things to return. But to a Fae of the Court of Fall, Spring brought with it a sort of unappealing frivolousness. People were all too eager to forget the adversity from which they were reborn. And forgetting, history might suggest, tends to start the same old cycles anew. Usually for worse.

Releasing their daily morning sigh, Faine lifted their shovel and began clearing a path through the snow. They knocked ice off of various surfaces as they went, including the temporary roof over their garden, which had started to sag from all the weight. It was a tedious task, more so because Faine’s metabolism had been intentionally slowed. Needing to eat less came with its setbacks, but surviving all of Frost in the Astralar Mountains did not exactly allow for compromise or negotiation.

They straightened once the chore was finished, taking a moment to catch their breath. The last thirty some days had been a whirlwind of action. Though Frost had arrived with many challenges, including unrelenting snow that continued to pile day after day, the isolation it imposed was a welcome respite. Few dared to travel far in conditions so harsh. Which, in theory, meant less intrusions and complicated requests.

Unfortunately, the theory was disproved within days. As fate would have it, their closest neighbor happened to be the very type who dared.

Faine had been by the fireplace, sniffing their innumerable jars of tinctures, when a series of sharp raps broke their concentration. Irritated, the Fae strode to the door with dagger in hand. No one in their right mind came knocking past sunset.

To their surprise, a courier stood shivering at their door, covered in snow that was made all the whiter against the dark blue of their livery. Faine may not have been savvy with Kalzasi’s nobility and their complicated affairs, but they recognized the emblem on the courier’s chest right away.

"G-good evening," the boy managed through chattering teeth. He could not have seen more than fifteen Summers at most, slight as he was. "I c-come on the behalf of House L-Leukos, of g-greater House Br—"

"Yes, I know," Faine interrupted, sheathing the dagger before placing a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Please, come in before you freeze."

Awash with relief, the child complied without hesitation and stepped into the warmth. Once inside, Faine made sure his wet coat was hung to dry, then wrapped the messenger with a coarse blanket and placed a hot mug of tea in his hands. It did not take long to understand the purpose of the courier's visit, nor to realize their own error in having assumed. The Fae learned that he was in fact a she, and that this young woman had undertaken a rather harrowing journey to offer a commission from His Lordship Kaus of House Leukos.

"It is meant to be a secret," the girl, whose name apparently was Ingrid, explained. "Lord Kaus wishes to surprise his twin sister, which is why he sent only me."

Faine stared pensively at the fire, unsure of what to make of it all. "I would be remiss to decline such an auspicious offer. But I must be honest, Ingrid...in order to create a scent of true authenticity to its wearer, I must know the person well. Every piece of understanding is important. What they like, what they hate, the nuances of their skin."

At the last part, Ingrid blanched a little. "It is true that Lord Kaus wants the scent to be as close to perfect as possible, as Lady Kala can be quite particular in her tastes. This business about her skin, however..."

"I need not touch her in any intimate sense," Faine clarified, unbothered by the insinuation, "I only need to understand the nature of her skin. It will help me know which scents and compounds will sit longest and most accurately on her person."

The young courier chewed on her lip, mug of tea long since drained. "Alright, I will see what can be done. It will be difficult, as Lady Kala is incredibly hard to fool, but Lord Kaus can be quite clever in his own right. I'm sure we will think of something. I will return as soon as we have a plan in motion."

And so it was that Faine came to be standing between two heaps of freshly shoveled snow, wondering for the fourth morning in a row if today would be the day that Ingrid returned with a convoluted plan in tow.

Common ❀Valasren

[Kala Leukos]

In general, Kala was up before Kaus. She had always had to work harder to be taken as his equal, whether that was to do with their gender or his wings, which were tied to his gender. They were twins, equal in so much, but he recognized that she had to work harder. He envied her drive. He was unfailing and untiring in following her, but she was the engine that drove them both. And so it was on a fine winter morning that he woke up early and, as soon as she had left the Pavilion to see to her business, he launched himself from the central gardens and slid through the air until tucking and dropping out of the sky, approaching his destination finally from down low, his rounded wings allowing him a great deal more agility than his larger peers in the air.

He alit upon the ground, pale cheeks glowing from the cold and his exertion. He smiled and it shone from his eyes. And why shouldn't he be smiling? He was alive. He was a man, his Warren March complete. He owed that to Kala, too. They were a team, from womb to tomb.

His landing was far enough away from the cottage that he had to walk a distance clear against the snow so as not to alarm the storied perfumist.

"Well met," he said when he was close enough not to shout. "I am Kaus Leukos." After a sheepish pause. "I am just now realizing how difficult this trek would have been for someone who hasn't wings of their own. Well, she kept my secret and she hasn't lost any toes. I'll have to make it up to her. But in the meantime..." He pulled a paper package out of his coat and held it out. "My sister's favorite scarf. It ought to smell like her."

Within was a sapphirine silk thing, spangled with bits that sparkled. She wore it enough, he thought it ought to smell like her. They hugged a fair amount, but to him, she just smelled like him. He knew that was impossible, that different bodies had distinct smells. Perhaps it was a twin thing, or a perception thing. He didn't know.

"But you'll know what she smells like. I know what she likes. Together, I hope, we can figure out the perfect gift for her."

[Faine]

Faine noticed the shadow first, growing from bird sized to something much more intimidating by the time they decided to look up.

What dropped down from the sky was, the Fae had to admit, rather magnificent. Though they knew well enough of House Briathos and had met more than a few Avialae within the city proper, none had ever made an entrance quite like this.

Kaus Leukos was at once everything and nothing Faine had expected a noble Avialae to be like. His Lordship was tall, fair, well built and dressed, that much was certain. And of course, there were the wings. Beautiful, powerful, and infinitely useful. If there ever was a more perfect combination of function and form, it would be news to the Fae.

And yet...there was an easiness to him that belied his station. There they were, in the middle of the wilderness, little better than strangers. But somehow none of that stopped the noble from speaking to Faine as if they were a pair of old friends. Without fear, hesitation, or bias. It was a rare kind of candor that allowed the perfumist to relax, tension easing from their shoulders. Suddenly, they found themselves not feeling quite so resentful of the last four days.

"It is an honor, Lord Kaus," Faine answered as they strode forth to meet the noble, falling on honorifics just to be safe. Once close enough, they accepted the package and opened it carefully, taking a moment to appreciate the loveliness and quality of the fabric within.

"A prized possession we shall endeavor to keep safe, then," the Fae mused, closing the package back up. "We have quite the task ahead of us, you and I. Please, let us speak more somewhere warmer."

Without further ado, they turned to lead Kaus toward their humble cottage, aware that they ought to feel a twinge of concern over whether his Lordship would find the setting not quite to his standards. But something in their gut told them that such fears would probably be a waste of energy.

Once inside, Faine pulled out a plain, wooden chair by the crackling hearth. There was already a pot of tea brewing—pure coincidence, but a lucky one nonetheless—and some pastries and dried meat stacked neatly at the center of the table. "Please, help yourself whenever you like," they offered, sitting down on the opposite side. "I get the feeling it's going to be a long morning."

Opening the package for a second time, Faine brought the fabric close to their nose, which they had Glamoured long, long ago for more acute senses, and took a careful whiff.

"Your sister is..." they pondered aloud, face set in a quizzical expression, "...unusual, for a noble lady."

They took a second assessment, inhaling deeper this time. "She is quite active, I take it. Your courier, Ingrid, mentioned that her tastes could be very discerning. Yet, I smell more of her natural musk than anything fabricated. Which must mean she is rather physical, moving about with purpose most of the day, without much time for simple frivolities. Yet, she takes care of her appearance and possessions. Her scent is clean, if not...restless. Would that be in any way correct?"

Common ❀Valasren

[Kala Leukos]

Following them into their home, he furled his wings and kept them tight to his body. He was tall for a human, but small for an Avialae, which made fitting into the cottage much easier. Taking a seat, he thanked them.

"I ate before I came, but I would enjoy tea when it's ready," he said. He laughed at their first assessment. "Unusual is a diplomatic word for it." But he nodded along with the rest. "Clean, simple, restless, yes. We are twins, only eighteen. I know she enjoys scented soaps and oils, but a perfume... That is an adult thing and we are only recently adults. We are both small. Often mistaken for being younger than we are. I don't think she would want something that overcompensated, though. She is strong and confident. She dances, sometimes with blades. She's a magus. She's brilliant, really, and kind. It's difficult to describe her, though, even though we have known each other our whole lives.

"Our home is small, remote. We are proud but we are held to a high standard. We are spending time in the capital, and our mother and brother expect us to reflect well upon the family. But our people enjoy their remoteness. They don't want many outsiders coming around to take advantage of them for not being as sophisticated as people in the cities. So people have called us mysterious at times, well, her more than me. She listens more than she speaks, so when she does speak, it tends to at least sounds wise because she has weighed many sides of an argument."

He paused, looking at Master Faine, trying to ascertain whether anything he was saying was helpful or just blather.

"Perhaps I can better help by answering specific questions." He smiled ruefully, then glanced toward the hearth, curious if the kettle would be ready soon. Winter was cold.

[Faine]

Willful, deliberate, driven, compassionate. Faine mulled over each trait as they poured tea into mugs with practiced absent-mindedness. Steam rose and curled, lifting with it the scent of mountain herbs. Together, they made for a wholesome palette, the ironwort providing an earthy sweetness while the elderflower—harvested from the Fae's latest pruning—added a floral touch.

Faine passed the warm, heavy mug to their guest with a faint smile. "Yes, perhaps you can. There is much I still need to ask."

Sitting back down at the table, they held their own mug between their hands, allowing the contents to cool while they collected their thoughts. "The problem with soaps is that their scent rarely lingers long. Oils fare better, but not by much, especially if she is in constant motion and bathes often. They can, however, offer us insight as to what kinds of fragrances she enjoys. Do you know if she has a favorite soap or oil? Perhaps one she frequently restocks, or an oil she uses in her hair. The mountain air here can leave us quite brittle, as I'm sure you know, and it is not uncommon for servants to add things like castor or almond oil to their shopping lists. Even if you don't know the exact name, description itself could help greatly."

Tea having cooled enough, the Fae paused to take a sip. It was strange talking so much all at once. They had grown used to the silence within their home, but now, not only were they saying more words than they had for the past fortnight, they were also hosting a full fledged Avialae noble. Who, Faine could not help but notice, dwarfed the wooden chair he sat in, feathers all but touching the floor. The modest furniture was small even for Faine most days. Gods knew how it must have compared to Kaus's regular accommodations.

"Hmm, yes, I see," the perfumist would respond for each answer Kaus gave. They had pulled out a sheet of paper—the back of a gilded letter, to be precise—and, with a simple stick of charcoal, begun taking notes, drawing a haphazard chart there, scribbling words there, crossing out names as quickly as they added them. To anyone but Faine, the paper looked like utter chaos.

For the next hour or so, their unconventional investigation continued. What did she like to eat? What was her favorite color? Did she sweat easily? How about her earwax, was it dry or greasy? Faine was invested now, their head spinning with possibilities that had to be narrowed down.

"One of the more important things I need to know," they asked at some point, "is what does she want, truly? What are her greatest desires? Perhaps she wishes to leave a mark in this world, but if so, what kind?"

Common ❀Valasren

[Kala Leukos]

"Thank you," he said, accepting the tea. The cold didin't bother him overmuch, but he did enjoy the feel of a hot mug, heat seeping into his hands and into his mouth, throat, chest, and belly when he drank.

"The bathroom always smells of oranges after she bathes," he said. And he knew several of the basic things that were in their bathroom: almond oil, gentle soaps derived from olives, and all. She had started paying more attention to such things, which was one reason why this whole gift had occurred to him. He answered all their questions to the best of his ability, but the last one made his smile turn sad.

"What she most desires in the world... wings. We were night indistinguishable as small children, except I had the wings. Being twins and core-bonded, in most things we have always been either equal or complementary. She wants to fly. She thinks it's unfair that Avialae women aren't born with wings same as the men. I agree with her, but I don't know what to do about it. Anyway, I don't know if that helps. The only thing she really wants for herself is something likely impossible."

Then again, perhaps she would marry a Briathos mage who would be able to grow her a pair. The world was full of wonders, after all. But everyone had always told her to be reasonable, and while he was on her side, it was difficult not to drown under the weight of all that reality. But if anyone could manage it, 'twas his twin sister. He believed in her, anyway.

He paused, then, "Is there anything else you would know? Now I wonder how much she would appreciate me speaking so frankly about her with someone I only just met. She does enjoy her mystique."

[Faine]

Faine's mind churned and churned, running through possibilities and meticulously arranging or eliminating combinations. Oranges and almond oil...food scents bordering between girlish and sophisticated. Perhaps they could use orange blossoms, paired with natural sweetness, then finished with some kind of spice. Either the heart or base notes, however, would need to be unique, strange, wholly unconventional.

The frame was there, but what would the portrait be?

And then the answer came, heralded by Lord Kaus's jovial features turning somber. So there it was. The source of the fire that drove Lady Kala each and every day, burning her with ambition and longing. In a way, Faine could empathize. One of the first lessons any Fae learned about Glamouring was that they could not create something from nothing. You could move, reshape, and manipulate, but you could not change what was fundamentally finite. Try as they might, Faine would never be able to fashion wings from their own body. They simply did not have the proper mass or lineage to do so.

How frustrating it must be, they thought to themselves as Kaus spoke. Wanting something so badly, yet having no feasible way to obtain it.

Although, Faine also noted, mortals had am incorrigible tendency to manifest their wills, consequences be damned. There was always a way, with the right kind of ingenuity. In the vast aftermath of the Sundering, with new and extraordinary discoveries being unearthed everyday, who was to say what was possible and what was not? The Fae only hoped that should Lady Kala ever truly get her hands on her one greatest wish, they would not come to regret it.

"You have my word that I will take her secrets to my grave," Faine swore, not a trace of jest in their voice. "I understand the desire for privacy all too well."

Rising from their chair, they strode to a corner of the cottage stacked ceiling-high with various bottles, tinctures, flasks, and gods knew what else. "There are just two more things I would like to know," Faine replied as they plucked a slew of bottles and containers, filling their arms before returning to the table. One by one, the bottles were lined in neat rows according to type and compatibility. "First, I need your opinion."

They pushed five of the little bottles toward Kaus: Orange blossom, Neroli, Amber, Oakmoss, and Geranium. Each had a small cap that could easily be unscrewed.

"I recommend smelling them at half of your arm's length. Just a whiff should do. Tell me, which remind you most of your sister?"

Once that was finished, the Fae moved onto their final request. It would be more a little more up close and personal for His Lordship, but the fact that he was a twin made it all the more compelling. Since it was not possible to test the prototypes on Lady Kala herself, her brother would have to do, and surely their skin could not be so different. "Second, I will need to test a few scents to see how they interact."

Staring at Kaus, Faine pointed to their own arm, then to the noble's. "May I?"

Common ❀Valasren

[Kala Leukos]

Kaus observed the Fae'ethalan's face as they thought whatever mysterious thoughts they had, and tracked their movement and exploration of the various bottles in their collection. He sipped his tea patiently until they returned. Perhaps he was more collegial with those below him on the social hierarchy than others of his rank, but it was due to being born and raised far from the city, where his family acted more as the head of a tribe than a head of state. He was also quite young. Perhaps that too was responsible for the respect he showed everyone.

As they bade him, he sampled each bottle in turn.

Of the orange blossom, he said, "Yes, this smells like the bathroom." He laughed.

Of the neroli, he merely offered a thoughtful "oh."

Of the amber, he said, "This is nice."

Of the oakmoss, he paused, brow furrowed, but didn't say anything. He was obviously trying to sort out his feelings for each relative to the other.

Of the geranium, he decidedly shook his head. "This smells nice, but isn't her."

Kaus glanced at each bottle again, lips pursed a bit and held to the side in thought. "I think it might be the second one?" Perhaps it ought not to be a question, but he didn't know how the perfumist's alchemy worked, nor had he really ever spent any time figuring out what scents would suit a person. He didn't spend time sniffing at his sister, but they had grown up together. He knew what she smelled like in the back of his mind because he could tell when she wasn't present. "It has the orange... It's sweet, but there's a hint of spice. Green, but... metallic? I almost thought the fourth one, perhaps, but this. She can be sweet or scathing in equal measure. She loves nature, but carries knives. I like the complexity..."

Then he glanced to Master Faine, platinum eyebrows raised as if unsure whether he sounded like he was a blithering idiot. When they asked for his arm, he just nodded, rolled up his sleeve, and offered it.

[Faine]

Each time Kaus described his thoughts on the scent before him, the light in Faine's eyes grew a little brighter.

They had stopped taking notes altogether, mind moving faster than their hand ever could. Orange blossom was a dead given. Neroli, an exotic guess towards something more unique, but perhaps too exotic. Oakmoss gave the twin pause—too much so—and was moved mentally to the discard pile. Now amber...that one seemed to ring true, and Faine was caught off guard by Kaus’s description of it. The noble’s words were simple yet discerning, his assessment coming straight from his core.

At the diplomatic rejection of geranium, the Fae could not help but grin. It had not been a flinch of outright disdain, which spoke more of the brother than his sister, but every elimination brought them closer to the truth. And truth was all that mattered.

In their growing fervor, Faine began to forget their usual reservation, aided further by the complete lack of formality on their client’s part. When the bare, pale arm was offered, they all but leapt into action, nearly toppling their chair over in the process. Orange blossom and amber were kept. The others, swept away and replaced with four more oils: copal bark, labdanum, vetiver, and yuzu.

Wrapping firm fingers under the offered arm, Faine placed a drop of copal bark on Kaus’s wrist. They waited a few seconds, then lifted his wrist to meet their nose halfway, taking a quick and indirect whiff. The Fae froze for a moment in contemplation before moving onto the next scent. This time, they dropped labdanum where Kaus’s arm bent. The steps were repeated for each remaining scent, switching to Kaus’s other arm halfway through, before Faine relinquished their hold and eased back into their chair to have a think.

“Your skin is...interesting,” they mused, oblivious to how unsettling a comment it might have been. Another round of tea was poured for both Fae and guest. The herbal vapors helped clear their nose, while the tea began calming their mind. “It makes for a good canvas; the scents come through clean and true. The real test, however, is how they transform over time.”

Of course, a thorough test would have required hours to pass by. Perhaps even a day. Faine could not realistically keep Lord Kaus hostage for that long, so they accepted that a few minutes would suffice.

This time, the perfumist hovered longer, breathing in the scents multiple times at various distances. Their proximity to an Avialae noble had long since ceased to be a concern. The only thing that mattered now was finding the defining base notes.

Copal bark, initially similar to amber but with a more caramel undertone, had begun fading softer and earthier upon Kaus’s wrist. Interesting. Next came labdanum, which held hints of pine, pepper, coffee, and leather, and had transitioned to something more smoky. Also interesting. After that was vetiver, a scent like uncut grass on a hot day. To Faine’s surprise, its body actually held true, carrying rather notable wisps of smoke and leather. Very interesting.

Lastly, there was yuzu. The perfumist had chosen this for whimsy, really, knowing full well it would succeed but curious nonetheless. What had started as a fresh punch of grapefruit and mandarin had softened to a light citrus with the barest hint of floral. Faine felt it suited Kaus rather well but said nothing of it.

“Well, I think I’m satisfied,” they sighed, breathing deep to chase away the heady mix of fragrances. “Your thoughts are, of course, always welcome. I find your descriptions rather insightful. They are honest—you have a knack for painting the scents plainly but accurately.”

Common ❀Valasren

[Kala Leukos]

Though he couldn't read their mind, they did seem to grow more comfortable with him as time passed. Not knowing whether that was to do with time spent in his company or enthusiasm for their craft, he did what he could to aid in their process. On the mountain, they venerated their artists, and many of their people found their art in their craft—that was all to the good. Some work was drudgery and some was craft. And some was vocation—a calling. They all submitted to some drudgery, but sought out their craft, that which they were good at and found joy in, though they all wanted a vocation: the thing that transformed them.

Artists seemed to have the most natural knack for finding them, especially because the arts were often an uncertain career.

Over the course of the process, he had many questions but kept them to himself, not wanting to distract. Then more tea, but he refrained from asking because they seemed to be mulling things over. And then they smelled at his arm again, to see how the scents clung to him, who ought to have a similar makeup to her, he supposed. When they were done, announcing themself satisfied, he scented his own arms, curious. He had taken the interesting comment as a compliment of sorts; a perfumist would most likely be fascinated by interesting skin, and they hadn't wrinkled their nose or pulled away. At least his skin had been protected from the wind. His tousled hair most likely had its own scent, being tossed by the rarefied air as he flew to meet them on their own terms.

"I wish I knew what they all were," he said softly as he began to smell his arm again. "I only knew the first one was orange. Mm... This one," he said of the copal bark, "is like a sweet smoke that comes from the hookah lounge at the Velvet Cabaret. Intoxicating, I suppose?" Almost as soon as he was declared a man after his Warren March, he had gone to explore that place. He hadn't done anything to embarrass himself or his family, of course, but it had been quite the experience.

Then, of the labdanum, "This smells... hm, it's complex. I apologize. I don't have your nose, ah... musky, sort of. Is it ambergris?" He shook his head. "No, you can tell me after, I suppose."

Of the vetiver, "Warm and dry. Earth and... leather? The first time I smelled it, it seemed masculine, but now... I'm not sure that's correct."

Of the kuzu, "Oh, citrus. Oily... but not in a bad way, not unguent, but balmy. I think... I don't know." He put his arm down, fair cheeks flushed. "I must sound quite ignorant, but I hope I have helped you do your work."