[The mist along the wagon track is light today, existing only between rays of sunlight. Instead of a soothing green glow through the canopy, stubborn beams spear down to the ground as it to pointedly remind visitors of brighter days and clearer skies.
A soft tinkling fills the air, growing louder the deeper the path winds through the trees. Where it widens into the clearing, the source of the sound becomes obvious: little chimes of glass and driftwood, strung on wire and hung from branches around the space. The chickens seem unbothered, but a passing predator might be startled into moving along.
At odds with the cheerful light and pleasant chimes is the smell. Sour, smokey, and acrid, it sticks to the back of the throat like the sediment of a tannin-heavy wine. Sypha has a scarf tied around her nose and mouth in an attempt to screen it out as she stirs a copper pot over the outdoor oven. A row of little glass bottles line its edge, waiting to receive whatever she's brewing up.]
[closed] Jaskier - memory share fallout
A soft tinkling fills the air, growing louder the deeper the path winds through the trees. Where it widens into the clearing, the source of the sound becomes obvious: little chimes of glass and driftwood, strung on wire and hung from branches around the space. The chickens seem unbothered, but a passing predator might be startled into moving along.
At odds with the cheerful light and pleasant chimes is the smell. Sour, smokey, and acrid, it sticks to the back of the throat like the sediment of a tannin-heavy wine. Sypha has a scarf tied around her nose and mouth in an attempt to screen it out as she stirs a copper pot over the outdoor oven. A row of little glass bottles line its edge, waiting to receive whatever she's brewing up.]