NaNoWriMo: Posted November 18@10:47
I need to take note and “see” Nom’s shop.
Nom has bells that jingle whenever someone enters her shop. They’re called Spirit Bells. They’re chime wishes those entering good fortune while for Nom and her assistants the chime means someone needs help.
The store has dark corners for Nom’s Guardians to “hide” in.
Old-fashioned shop to the Lynthian eye with dark wooden fixtures – statutes and carvings.
There’s a staircase – 16 steps to the second floor. It curves like an “L.” Once upstairs, it is seven steps to the first room (in Aara’s time it is an exam room). At one earlier point it is Sita’s bedroom.
Also during Aara’s time, two rooms were patient rooms. One room housed both of Nom’s assistants. Another single room housed her Guardians. And the large room at the end of the hall was her own. I’ll need to review all of this after Nano. I have a new house concept to work through wherein the earlier years Nom and Jaith’s crew will live in a second portion (almost duplex like) that while attached to this main portion is still separated by the greenhouse/garden area.
There’s a bookshelf with herbalist items for purchase, but I’m not clear yet what those items might be. I’m thinking more like mortars and pestles for patrons to take home. There’s also a display case which housed mainly dried herbs, but she also kept commonly used elixirs in there for purchase. There is a set of simple stools for patrons to sit on near the display case. There is a tray stored on a small shelf underneath the backside of the case.
I think it might be nice for one wall to be a long series of drawers, stacking eight height, each drawer a foot tall, each holding needed herbs, all categorized and intricately organized. Maybe in the kitchen there will be a similar idea but with flour cloth sacks affixed to the wall.
Nom’s shop was different from other Lynthian shops. To save money, Lynthian shop owners shared walls. Nom’s place was a stand alone building. A good portion of the building did not have windows. Daksh purchased this building for Nom and chose these features purposely.
The walls were made of brown stone, which kept the finish looking fresh, clean in the dust and sand of Lynthia. The store’s front room lacked sunlight and was dim despite the number of glowing lanterns.
There is a backroom. A small hinged door separates the two rooms. This is Nom’s kitchen. It is separated into halves – one for food preparation, one for herbalism use.
So I’m thinking that Nom’s house should
Nom had the only consistently flat patio in Lynthia. Many others became victims of sand and storm, but Daksh enclosed Nom’s patio, hidden from Lynthia from every side but up. And the sky was two stories in that direction. She needed it flat to properly grow her plants. Daksh also made sure to protect her plants from the elements by affixing canopies to the building walls to shield the plants like little umbrellas from the harsh sun.
Each on Nom’s systems consisted of piping, a tank, a pump and a manifold. The pump sits inside the tank to push nutrients up to the plants and each growing tube has a drainpipe that leads back to the tank. The manifold sits on top of the pipes and sends pressurized water into the tubes.
Nom rolled up her sleeves. She had a young baduka berry plant to add to her growing tubes. She placed the planted seedling down on one side of her little work counter. She placed her bucket of lukewarm water down on the other side. Then carefully removed the healthiest seedling from its original home and removed as much soil as she could before submerging the root ball in the bucket of water. She gently separated the roots and removed the soil clinging there. Soil was dangerous to her growing tubes. If she missed any, it was possible for the soil to clog holes in her nutrient tubes.
Once the roots were clean, she pulled as many as she could through the bottom of her prepared planting cup and arranged the clay pebbles to hold the plant in place.
She walked over to the growing tubes and found an empty spot in her trellis to place the cup. With her free hand she rummaged through her apron’s pocket and pulled out the single string she had all ready there and tied the plant to the trellis.
When she was done with her new addition she took a moment to inspect all of her plants for signs of pest or disease.
Sita barreled through the kitchen’s side door into the garden for some old fashioned, yummy spearmint. Nom kept five of the plants in single planters, all of which were kept separate from her growing tubes. Apparently, it was an invasive plant that she had a bad experience with. She didn’t even want to keep the species but couldn’t deny that they had medicinal purposes. Sita only knew that someone showed Nom how to best control them. Sita also knew the plant was fantastic for strengthening a weak stomach, which her sister had.
She stepped up onto the small platform that housed Nom’s small worktable. There she washed and transferred new seedlings for the trellis. Across from that was another small worktable that kept the metal bins of spearmint. Sita bounced to that far side, passing over Bankim who was working under the Lynthian sun. She plucked a leaf and tossed it in her mouth to eat then got to work gathering a series more, always taking one and leaving ten.
“Well, aren’t you just all glittery and polished today.”
Sita jumped, startled by the voice that boomed as it echoed off the brownstone walls, even though she immediately recognized that it belonged to Bankim. Her one hand flew to her chest, her fingertip covering the front of her thin throat while the other gripped the table for support as her body recovered from the surprise.
“Whoa,” Bankim laughed.
“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was out here.”
Or I wouldn’t have pranced to Nom’s mint and shoved a leaf down my throat like a savage, Sita thought to herself.
“I was just tending to Nom’s growing tubes.”
Bankim stretched his back and used the back of his arm to wipe away sweat from his forehead. He had sweat stains in the armpits of his long-sleeved red shirt. He wore his usual high-cut boots and brown pants but exchanged his suspenders for a belt. Sita hated the suspenders, but, at the same time, hated to see him without them. It was a ridiculous problem.
“What about you?”
“Hmm?” Sita asked, suddenly realizing she was staring at his chest. She shook her head and forced herself to pull her eyes away from his body. “Oh, I’m gathering some spearmint.”
“Spearmint water,” she correct and blushed, unsure why she cared that he knew the difference. Bankim slapped his hand together once and brushed away his work on his pants then walked closer to Sita. Her heart fluttered as it usually did whenever he get near. She hated how fluttershy she got around him. She was never like that when they first met, before they ever talked.
“It’s a present for my sister,” Sita babbled on. “It takes a bit to distill the spearmint into the water, but I don’t mind helping her out.”
“Is she sick?” Bankim asked as he stepped up onto the platform with Sita and examined the plants. He picked a leaf, split it in half and smelled its aroma.
Brahman, no. No, no.
How could she left that come out of her mouth?
Sita’s eyes widened then pressed together as tightly as her lips did.
“I didn’t say that,” she whispered in mortification.
The wood under Bankim’s boot creaked. He stepped closer to her. Tara was already in trouble; she hadn’t even told their dad yet because she didn’t know how to break the news to him, and here was Sita spilling secrets. Now a stranger knew before their father ever did. Sita hated herself.
“You did,” Bankim said, his warm hand holding her shoulder tenderly, his breath warm on her neck. She opened her eyes, her lashing fluttering but his face nowhere to be seen in front of her. “But I reckon that I never heard it, too busy sharing how I grew up on a farm.”
He pulled away from her. She shut her eyes one more time slowly, thanking the protective Divine that Jaith taught her about, and found herself indebted to the man she was in love with. At least she kept that secret.
“You grew up on a farm,” she stammered out.
“Yep, very far away from this desert,” he declared, twirling around on his boot heel once he reached the middle of Nom’s patio He steered the conversation to something more comfortable for them to share. Sita relaxed and smiled at him as he threw his arms to the sides as if announcing the patio to be his second home. “I helped care for it until my mom died. Then my dad sold it, sold my cow, my belongings, everything we own.”
“Maybe, got me here, didn’t it?” Bankim said with a shrugged and mischievous grin. “We’d of never have met ifin he didn’t make a right mess of things. You should thank him really.”
“I’ll have you do it for me. Might give him ideas if I just swung by for such a random nicety.”
Bankim scratched his chin. “Ideas aren’t bad things.”
Sita’s face flushed.
“Why do you do that?” she asked, speaking without thought.
Bankim paled. “Excuse me?”
“You saying little things like that, and you act like you care, but I know you’ll act like I don’t exist tonight.
WORD COUNT: 1657
AUTHOR’S NOTE: I think I need my own spearmint water after this vomited word count, but at times this is just what I need – to spew whatever is in my brain out.
Did you catch the My Little Pony reference?
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