[P] I Set Fire to a Way of Living

While they'd finally laid claim to a home of their own, a little fixer-upper in the swamp lands, the witch's fat supplier was quite the trek from his new abode in the Canaan Bogs.
Without a horse, he would have to make the trip on foot, and lugging the tallow about in a four-legged form would be difficult, even just to another side of the packlands.
Didn't dink d'is out d'at well, it fig'rs. He muttered to himself, having walked now until his feet were sore to make it to Alonso.
He'd visited the male, collected his materials, and was preparing himself to make the walk back home.

It was still plenty cold outside, though there were patches of cold, dying earth caught beneath fissures in the blanket of snow. Murky land and brown strands of grass poked through here and there, making the scene far less beautiful as it had been before as a perfect, pure sheet of white.

Sugabear considerer just making the candles in town, perhaps finding a spot nearby the tavern so he could poke in when he grew bored of watching the tallow slowly come to a boil. At least there, he could find something to drink to pass the time, or someone to pass the time with.
Conversation would be nice, considering now he only really had Boo to talk to, in their moving from Charmingtown.

They hadn't had much to pack, before just living out of a tent, but it was more than the swampy male had anticipated. They'd settled in nicely, it seemed, and to uproot and carry that all to their new home proved more work than he thought it would be.
It took a few trips, a borrowed horse to drag most of the stuff their way, and some extra hands that The Witch Doctor was grateful for.

That was was drove him to make these candles in the first place; he wished to repay the kind packmates that had helped them move their life along.
And it was nice to get out of the house every once in a while as well.

He'd decided then, he'd set up near the tavern. He was sure they would have the other materials he would need to make the stuff; a fire pit, some mugs or a glass, a bucket for the water...
And he had dried herbs on him in pouches tied around his belt. He always kept something useful on him, as one never knew when they'd need medical assistance. He kept jasmine on him as well, purely for selfish reasons, but perhaps he could be generous enough to throw some petals into his anticipated candles this time.

After gathering the supplies, he sat just outside of the building, readying up his craft and inwardly hoping maybe somebody would come along to help the time go by more pleasantly.
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OOC: Anya's deffo gonna flirt with him. XD WC: +2

IC: Even though the nights weren't as long any more, and the sun's return was notable in the lightening hours of the day coming sooner and sooner to wake her, Anya still woke every day at the same time, no matter the season. It was what some would call six o'clock AM if they were reading an old human device. By the time she was ready, up and moving for the day, it was usually seven o'clock and her day would begin...

She was an early riser. She had a routine. While currently lodged a large room at the Inn, she would make her way down stairs and over to the popular bar for some breakfast and a small pick me up before headed out into town to set up her Trading Stall for a few hours. On this day that was exactly how her morning progressed and did so without much incident.

Come high noon, Anya wiped her brow and let loose her hair from it's captivity in its high pony tail. Her work for the day was done for now. It was time to do some familiarizing with the pack lands. Every afternoon she got lunch at the bar before taking her horse out for a trail ride. Today she had an errand to run first, but the side trip would be well worth it.

After making sure her stall was properly stowed away, the seamstress woman made her way back through Charmingtown to the Bar where she noticed a man setting up a stand nearby the entryway to the bar. Quite suddenly all her plans for that afternoon were erased as sheer curiosity gripped her as sweet and tantalizing scents tickled her nose and she veered off her path towards the Ugly Coyote and instead approached the brown and gray male with a small smile. " Good afternoon..." She curtseyed deeply, and dipped her head recognizing his rank over hers, fiery gaze turned down. "Might I trouble you for a name, good sir?" She asked amiably and swept her tail behind her in a short wag. "I couldn't help but notice the fragrances coming from over here, what is it you are making?" She then asked with perking forward of her large coyote heritage ears and a quiver of her nose.
[Image: ON9A7uP.png]
I will never be voiceless
My weapon of choice is
I'd rather be dangerous
I won't be left defenseless
As God as my witness
I'd rather be dangerous...

The scent of the animal fat boiling down was nothing short of putrid, but before too long he was adding powders and petals and oils to the mixture, fragrancing the air around him pleasantly to make up for the foulness from before.
He silently contemplated other scents that could be added, as soon as the snow had finally melted and the witch could venture off again in search of herbs and flowers.

Something fruity would be nice, perhaps orange peel or apple skins. He wasn't sure how well it would preserve within the wax, but the mongrel would never find out until he tried his hand at them.
A quick wonder of what Morrigan's favourite smells were crossed his mind, but the Witch Doctor quickly shook them from his head once a visitor came along.

Sugabear offered a friendly smile, thought brief, and started his own greeting, Bonjour.
This stranger was somebody he'd never seen before, and while it was surprising before, as he didn't communicate much with his packmates soon upon arrival, after time spent working as a healer and including himself gradually in more social events, the mutt knew quite a few other Ashen now.

Of course, I am Sugabear. He said with a nod, assuming this newcomer was simply that; a fresh face to the pack and seeking to familiarize herself with others. The witch would have thought she was simply a visitor, had it not been for the scent of Del Cenere on her.
Idly, he stirred his mixture, occasionally glancing over with swamp-coloured eyes to his unknown company.

Gotta say... The Perrin du Lac prince cleared his throat, Can't remembeh seein' you 'bout anywhe'a. What's ya name, chérie?
She inched closer to his craft, obviously curious about what it was that he was doing. He couldn't blame her; before he had been taught the art of candle making, he found the whole process strange as well.
Candles. He said, though not rudely despite his shortness, To 'elp ride out t' winteh.
[Image: mJXdmtx.png]
WC: +2

His charm and accent took her momentarily by surprise, but if anything it only made the woman smile and feel a certain attraction even more than she already did. Her tail wagged more and she listened eagerly to each word he spoke, her ears perked and hanging on to each foreign syllable. She liked the different cadence of his accent. It was unique and unlike anything she'd ever heard before. "Sugabear." She repeated his name, committing it and his appearance along with it to memory. "It is a pleasure." She said, tipping in her hat as she leaned in to better view the mixture he was working on.

It turned out to be candles he was making. This intrigued Anya and she grew even more curious, looking up more thoroughly at the man who crafted the now slightly floral scented tallow mix. Sure the underlying smell of melted fat and oil was there still but at least he was attempting to make the concoction smell more pleasant. In her distraction she forgot to mention her own name and chuckled embarrassed as Sugabear mentioned not having seen her around before. "Oh yes, well, I am new to the pack. I am Anya. Anya Southpaw." Giving a small wink she swiftly continued on. "I see you're rather practiced at this. Do you trade? Because if I could get my paws on some of your craft," she couldn't help but smirk slightly, orange eyes shimmering "I think you've got somethin' I need." She chuckled again.

"I'm running low on candles and would be needing to restock. In return could you use some spices and dried ingredients to add to the mixes? Cinnamon, dried lavender petals, rose petals, sage leaves? Things like that?" She listed off a few items on her fingers, thinking of the few things she had in her stock from her travels and leaned against a support post of the overhang of the nearby building. "I ain't got an endless supply but I have enough that y'could make a decent batch of candles with each." Smiled, raising her brows. She knew ingredients like those she'd offered were uncommon, especially up north this far. She'd acquired, or stolen what she had in her initial....exit of her former home. Nobody around here knew this of course, but nobody needed to know either. Besides, the sooner she got rid of all the evidence of her past, the better. And if she helped others in the process, she wasn't going to feel bad for it. She hoped she could entice the Witch Doctor into making a deal.
[Image: ON9A7uP.png]
I will never be voiceless
My weapon of choice is
I'd rather be dangerous
I won't be left defenseless
As God as my witness
I'd rather be dangerous...

Though he was not unaware of her attractiveness, the witch was almost always oblivious to hints that others found him appealing as well (save for the new habit of Morrigan's, one he found as flattering as it was obscene sometimes).
For most of his life growing up in the swamps, he came off strangely to others. He was an obscure creature who rested in the marsh, muddy and accent thick as the clay his feet sank into. Bones and beads and scraps adorned his hair and there was an aura of uncertainty around him.
At least, that's what he'd heard from brief encounters as a loner; here now, as a packmate, he had finally formed healthier relationships.

As he'd assumed, the visitor was new, but that didn't matter much to the Prince; he wanted pleasant company, not particularly familiar. He was open to meeting newcomers.
Well, it's a pleasuh t' meetcha as well, Anya Southpaw. He gave a nod, though the mutt cocked his head curiously at the other's wink.

Shrugging it off as she questioned him, Sugabear was more than willing to answer anything she had wonders about, concerning his craft.
I do trade. That was something he hadn't expected. Usually onlookers asked about the process, or why he was making candles of all things, or how they could start making their own.
It hadn't really occurred to him that maybe offering his finished products up for trade could get him more acquainted with other talents in the pack.

He traded with Alonso, animal fat for a finished product, but this was something different; the swamp Prince would be trading goods for other goods, perhaps other materials he had a harder time getting his hands on, or even other finished projects that took skills he lacked.
The thought excited him greatly.

Dat would be... Oui, yes! He laughed softly, something he wasn't used to doing around strangers. It would be silly to turn down the offer. Trying his hand with new ingredients, some completely unknown to him? It would be foolish not to work with this promising new Ashen for the chance.
Sugabear nodded, I dink ya gotcha self a deal, Madanm Southpaw.
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