Welcome to Gaia! ::

Hitsuga had realized a bit too late that he'd not taken careful inventory of product versus packaging. And, as such, had ended up with more perfume than he had bottles to put it in.

....which, in itself, was not much of a problem as more things could be done with fragrance than simply bottling it as-was. And so, he had decided to expand his horizons (and his stock) a bit, heading into town this morning to poke around in the shops until he'd found what he'd been looking for.

Artificial coloring, an open bag of soap flakes, and various fragrances sat on his countertop, and on the stove, a pinkish thick liquid occasionally bubbled in the pot it was being stirred in, filling the air with the heady scent of summer flowers.

The window over the sink had been opened, letting in an early summer breeze that teased through the house, putting an air of peace on things...

He had not, at first, registered the music....or had, at least ignored it as simply sounds traveling down the street from the market district. As it becomes more audible against the other outside noises, however, Hitsuga pauses to listen to it.

It is not like anything he's used to hearing, in this world or even back home. It does not have structure, a static melody, a refrain, or anything that would even classify it as being music....

....yet he finds it capturing his imagination all the same as he resumes working. It is not a stream he thinks of, however, it is a turbulent autumn wind, whirling past grassy knolls and overripe orchards, carrying a sleeve of colored leaves that are tossed and whipped within it. Until at last they meet the balmy open air of a meadow, the wind being forced to calm itself, and loosen its hold on its cargo, the leaves whispering to the ground one by one to take their winter's rest on the browning grass.

The mental imagery ends abruptly as the music dies, making him realize just how quiet the kitchen seems without it. The young man pauses once more, casting a brief look to the window, and then moves to take the pot off of the burner and transfer its contents to the large glass beaker on the counter for easier pouring.

And Boyan's response is an equally ungraceful one as a short, strangled SHRIEK of surprise emits from Hitsuga, flailing to catch the pot of liquid soap before it spills all over him, the kitchen, and everywhere...!!! gonk

He goggles at Boyan a moment, as if trying to figure out whether the celestial oracle draped over his sink and getting his hair in the sudsy water that some dishes were currently soaking in is a figment of his imagination or not.

H--Hello, Master Boyan....

.....most people knock. sweatdrop

Feeling his heart finally climb back down out of his throat, he sets the pot a safe distance away from where Boyan might knock into it and takes a moment to recollect his composure.

Well, up until a few seconds ago, he -had- been making some soap....

Erm...

....

Would Boyan like to come in for a moment? Seeing as how he's already halfway there? sweatdrop

Hitsuga watches all of this with a weary sort of fascination, wincing as he hears Boyan collide with the ground outside. He hesitates, and is just leaning over to peer out and see if he's hurt himself, when a sharp knock at the door makes him turn his head in THAT direction instead.

....

Taking a moment to close the kitchen window (just in case there are any other potential visitors who may decide its a novel way to announce their presence) he rushes to answer the door, opening it to let Boyan inside.

Hitsuga has been doing much better since last they spoke. He thanks Boyan for asking.

The perfumer moves aside to allow him entry into the storefront, which is much more finished than it had been last time he'd had other people in his home.

And how is Master Boyan? 3nodding

....he didn't hurt himself, did he?

Oh...

Well, yes. In the kitchen. sweatdrop

Hitsuga's mind turns back to the pot on the sink and he fidgets.

And he'd probably better get the current batch into its molds before it starts to stiffen.

He turns back in that direction, his projections extending to Boyan a polite invitation to follow if he likes. As he passes by the table, the current batch, still sitting face down in its plastic shapers, catches his eye. They should be about ready to come out after he's dealt with what's on the counter...

Hitsuga begins to explain that, really, he's not technically making it as he is using the base someone else supplied to turn it into a final product. To actually make soap is a much more involved process that deals with animal fat and lye which.....well, he just can't be bothered with.

The sudden tension emanating from Boyan, however, cuts that explanation off midway as he looks over his shoulder, perplexed by what he sees.

.....is Master Boyan all right? confused