The steady tink-tink-tink of the glass under her fingernail was just sharp enough to keep her thoughts from falling too far down the proverbial rabbit-hole. Her eyes wandered over the morning Bazaar markets and she leaned on the rough counter of her stall.
Concoctions and elixirs. Soaps and perfume. Oils, creams, and potions. Tiny vials and large bottles nested in crates stuffed with straw. Others sat on the fold up displays. Khaeris had always loved the little glass containers her wares came in. She was thankful for her friendship with Pyraelia for many reasons, but connections to talented glassworks were valuable in her alchemical trade.
Especially to some of the more illicit wares she kept under the counter and out of sight.
Her mind circled back to the past few days and her gaze dropped, as if she could see through the counter and to the clandestine goods just below. Poisons of a wide and careful variety. Had Pollux really understood what she’d offered the other night, in that conversation about the elder Lo’sharri? She wasn’t sure he did. They had never talked about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing that just came up.
She could fix a problem she’d never been told to leave to rest. At least not directly. It was a problem that needed fixing, clearly. Aerden healed fast, but he should never have needed healing. Even if it hadn’t been the man--it was definitely the man!--he still had done things like that in the past. He deserved it.
Tink. Tink. Tink.