"Whassa matter?" Desdenova asked, peering up at Cove, busy playing Angry Birds on his iPad. Cove had that freaked out, didn't believe what he was seeing look that he'd been in RhyDin too long to have on his face. About then, frustrated and annoyed, Thorn simply climbed out of a window to join Cove and Desdenova on the porch.
"For one, there's something wrong in there. Second thing is, I still smell the..." Cove mumbled the cussing along with the pigs oinking on the game, "that was in there last night.."
Desdenova eyed the man, snorting softly. His mom could peel paint when she was so inclined to curse.
"Need some spray stuff, spray the place. Spritz it. Or whatever," Cove added, somewhere between uneasy and irritated.
"Here." Des pushed the ipad into Cove's hands. "Prolly jus' growin' some Prescience or empathy or somethin'. An' havin' a good nose just sucks aroun' here."
Figuring the game would help pull Cove's mind off of whatever was bugging him, Desdenova pulled a small can of Ozium out of his bag, shaking it up. It was helpful, when you had such a keen nose, to have a mortitician for a father who knew all the ways to neutralize nasty stinks. He barged in without fear.
Katt was nearly bowled over by Desdenova as he headed in. Blink and leaned to the side, out of the way. "Mrm?"
Ozium doesn't smell like anything much, mainly it was enzymes meant to kill the odor causing bacteria. Desdenova patiently walked through the common room, hosing it over soft and hard surfaces alike.
Katt's brows quirked. It seemed that Desdenova was apparently uncursing the inn?
It was easy to tell the kid was a desert rat under the eyes of Angeles and Gorgonio, the elders of Andreas. He finished up with the Ozium and dutifully marched into the kitchen. White salt, he was scattering it everywhere. Humming or chanting, sometimes tossing small handfuls at the windows. Little mageling he might be but he worked with the old ways before pulling spells out of his butt for some thing.
"Lavender work too? Brick dust?" Thorn asked as she stepped back in.
"Sage," Desdenova called, "Spirit tree would be cool. Lavender's good too. Broom."
"I've got Sage at the house. Can do a spirit tree, jus' have t' be a small one. An' lavender too. Be right back." Of course Thorn had sage, it was essential for Smudging.
"Need a lotta blue bottles," Desdenova nodded as he spattered the salt into the firebox. This was going to piss Auntie Tara off. He'd even it out with broom, decided.
Static sparked across the last of the fogging mist one Desdenova so freely sprayed. Electric licks and snakes jumped from one end to the next and grounded itself at his feet.
The boy didn't seem to notice the light show, he just went about his business, focussed and calm, then he turned and tossed salt all over Rome as she materialized with a snicker.
Thorn ran a hand along the youth's shoulders while setting the iPad that Cove returned to her on a table nearby, the redneck slipped through the shadows pooled nearby.
Creepily enough, what he'd been humming was Procol Harem's "Salty Dog". Thorn gave Desdenova an odd look when she realized it.
"I tihnk I might have a couple of blue bottles in my rucksack," Arthour said to Desdenova.
"If you wanna let me have 'em, just put 'em on the table, I'll get 'em," the boy smiled cheerfully.
Out shot an arm and the honey face, whose star-lit eyes shut tight when the dusting of salt spattered at Rome. A mouthful made for a triple sized pout to announce the distaste but the alien and floating form of the ghostly other-worlder swung from the floorboards as if climbing up through an invisible chute.
"Desssss-u," all too mechanical, the trader held her trademark smile and a wide-eyed smile like nothing was wrong
Desdenova called greetings as he waited for Thorn to give him the sage and lavender, humorously watching Rome get her marbles together. Arthour, meantime, sent his backpack of holding to bring over the required bottles. He showed quite a few in different shapes and sizes, but Desdenova only picked out the old Bromo-Seltzer and Milk of Magnesia bottles. Those were proper Haint blue.
"Could you put them in the sunshine, please?" Desdenova asked the man.
Desdenova dropped the lavender on the hearth and opened the bundle to strew it. The sage bundle, he thrust into the coals till it smouldered, and started walking around with it, trailing fragrant smoke. Distant, he was busy and focussed on his self appointed task.
Between their hazardous play of setting out herbs and spices, Rome wandered, floating like an apparition with the aid of unknown tech cradling those petite feet in bulky boots. Hover. Hoverhover.
Thorn settled on the window sill where she could watch both Desdenova and the street outside in turns. Letting what comfort she could find in the herbs roll over her like the cold, deep waters she'd found she preferred.
Arthour carried his bag over into the sunlight, reminding it to behave for Desdenova sternly, but he smiled when he looked at the boy.
"By the way, what are you doing?"
"Oh. Cove felt bad stuff in here. And smelled it. It's kinda always like that, but it's pretty freaky if y' never felt it before. So m' jus' doin' a cleansing thing. Sorta like, spiritually washes off th' nasty old crap that sticks to the floors an' walls an' slows down what comes in. The blue bottles make a home for spirits that might bug you if they didn't have a home."
"I see," Arthour nodded, amused.
"Washin' off the stupid. Sometimes that goes right down to the bone." Desdenova added with a chortle, resuming his work with the smoking sage until the inn was fragrant with it.
"You have a stuffed twelve or sixteen or something point buck in your caravan thinger that I can have, Miss Rome? It doesn't have to have a head, just antlers is okay. Or if it's all grody. I can fix that," Desdenova asked the future tech trader, the remainder of the smouldering sage tossed into the fireplace.
Desdenova went spelunking in the kitchen. He returned soon enough with an old whisk broom. He broke off pieces of the brush and tossed those into the fire, adding a spicier note to the quiet soothe of lavender and sage.
All this salt splaying and herb delivering was beyond the realm of Meridian science and their lack of relevance was taken at face value. While that interest remained, her conversation and focus strayed on Desdenova.
"Antlers...? Sixteen points?" Puzzling over it called up the necessary knowledge. "Yes, when do you need it?"
"Now, if you can, or whenever." Desdenova replied, dutifully sweeping with the whisk over the hearth.
"If you're certain," A kick on over to a wide empty end of the inn to stand by. In three, two... Desdenova winced.
"Don't blow anything up, and a dead one! A trophy head!" he called after Rome, flailing.
Desdenova's admonishments to Rome over there, had Thorn snickering quiet laughter, and digging out a bottle of espresso soda for him. Geist, was going to love her today, surely.
"For one, there's something wrong in there. Second thing is, I still smell the..." Cove mumbled the cussing along with the pigs oinking on the game, "that was in there last night.."
Desdenova eyed the man, snorting softly. His mom could peel paint when she was so inclined to curse.
"Need some spray stuff, spray the place. Spritz it. Or whatever," Cove added, somewhere between uneasy and irritated.
"Here." Des pushed the ipad into Cove's hands. "Prolly jus' growin' some Prescience or empathy or somethin'. An' havin' a good nose just sucks aroun' here."
Figuring the game would help pull Cove's mind off of whatever was bugging him, Desdenova pulled a small can of Ozium out of his bag, shaking it up. It was helpful, when you had such a keen nose, to have a mortitician for a father who knew all the ways to neutralize nasty stinks. He barged in without fear.
Katt was nearly bowled over by Desdenova as he headed in. Blink and leaned to the side, out of the way. "Mrm?"
Ozium doesn't smell like anything much, mainly it was enzymes meant to kill the odor causing bacteria. Desdenova patiently walked through the common room, hosing it over soft and hard surfaces alike.
Katt's brows quirked. It seemed that Desdenova was apparently uncursing the inn?
It was easy to tell the kid was a desert rat under the eyes of Angeles and Gorgonio, the elders of Andreas. He finished up with the Ozium and dutifully marched into the kitchen. White salt, he was scattering it everywhere. Humming or chanting, sometimes tossing small handfuls at the windows. Little mageling he might be but he worked with the old ways before pulling spells out of his butt for some thing.
"Lavender work too? Brick dust?" Thorn asked as she stepped back in.
"Sage," Desdenova called, "Spirit tree would be cool. Lavender's good too. Broom."
"I've got Sage at the house. Can do a spirit tree, jus' have t' be a small one. An' lavender too. Be right back." Of course Thorn had sage, it was essential for Smudging.
"Need a lotta blue bottles," Desdenova nodded as he spattered the salt into the firebox. This was going to piss Auntie Tara off. He'd even it out with broom, decided.
Static sparked across the last of the fogging mist one Desdenova so freely sprayed. Electric licks and snakes jumped from one end to the next and grounded itself at his feet.
The boy didn't seem to notice the light show, he just went about his business, focussed and calm, then he turned and tossed salt all over Rome as she materialized with a snicker.
Thorn ran a hand along the youth's shoulders while setting the iPad that Cove returned to her on a table nearby, the redneck slipped through the shadows pooled nearby.
Creepily enough, what he'd been humming was Procol Harem's "Salty Dog". Thorn gave Desdenova an odd look when she realized it.
"I tihnk I might have a couple of blue bottles in my rucksack," Arthour said to Desdenova.
"If you wanna let me have 'em, just put 'em on the table, I'll get 'em," the boy smiled cheerfully.
Out shot an arm and the honey face, whose star-lit eyes shut tight when the dusting of salt spattered at Rome. A mouthful made for a triple sized pout to announce the distaste but the alien and floating form of the ghostly other-worlder swung from the floorboards as if climbing up through an invisible chute.
"Desssss-u," all too mechanical, the trader held her trademark smile and a wide-eyed smile like nothing was wrong
Desdenova called greetings as he waited for Thorn to give him the sage and lavender, humorously watching Rome get her marbles together. Arthour, meantime, sent his backpack of holding to bring over the required bottles. He showed quite a few in different shapes and sizes, but Desdenova only picked out the old Bromo-Seltzer and Milk of Magnesia bottles. Those were proper Haint blue.
"Could you put them in the sunshine, please?" Desdenova asked the man.
Desdenova dropped the lavender on the hearth and opened the bundle to strew it. The sage bundle, he thrust into the coals till it smouldered, and started walking around with it, trailing fragrant smoke. Distant, he was busy and focussed on his self appointed task.
Between their hazardous play of setting out herbs and spices, Rome wandered, floating like an apparition with the aid of unknown tech cradling those petite feet in bulky boots. Hover. Hoverhover.
Thorn settled on the window sill where she could watch both Desdenova and the street outside in turns. Letting what comfort she could find in the herbs roll over her like the cold, deep waters she'd found she preferred.
Arthour carried his bag over into the sunlight, reminding it to behave for Desdenova sternly, but he smiled when he looked at the boy.
"By the way, what are you doing?"
"Oh. Cove felt bad stuff in here. And smelled it. It's kinda always like that, but it's pretty freaky if y' never felt it before. So m' jus' doin' a cleansing thing. Sorta like, spiritually washes off th' nasty old crap that sticks to the floors an' walls an' slows down what comes in. The blue bottles make a home for spirits that might bug you if they didn't have a home."
"I see," Arthour nodded, amused.
"Washin' off the stupid. Sometimes that goes right down to the bone." Desdenova added with a chortle, resuming his work with the smoking sage until the inn was fragrant with it.
"You have a stuffed twelve or sixteen or something point buck in your caravan thinger that I can have, Miss Rome? It doesn't have to have a head, just antlers is okay. Or if it's all grody. I can fix that," Desdenova asked the future tech trader, the remainder of the smouldering sage tossed into the fireplace.
Desdenova went spelunking in the kitchen. He returned soon enough with an old whisk broom. He broke off pieces of the brush and tossed those into the fire, adding a spicier note to the quiet soothe of lavender and sage.
All this salt splaying and herb delivering was beyond the realm of Meridian science and their lack of relevance was taken at face value. While that interest remained, her conversation and focus strayed on Desdenova.
"Antlers...? Sixteen points?" Puzzling over it called up the necessary knowledge. "Yes, when do you need it?"
"Now, if you can, or whenever." Desdenova replied, dutifully sweeping with the whisk over the hearth.
"If you're certain," A kick on over to a wide empty end of the inn to stand by. In three, two... Desdenova winced.
"Don't blow anything up, and a dead one! A trophy head!" he called after Rome, flailing.
Desdenova's admonishments to Rome over there, had Thorn snickering quiet laughter, and digging out a bottle of espresso soda for him. Geist, was going to love her today, surely.