They were every where. Swirling, mixing, drifting, wafting…There were too many smells. Silentsong was certain that if she were to lose her sight, while it would indeed be dark, her Worgen nose would create a map of the world around her that she could navigate with ease. Her nose seemed to catch that each and every person had a unique scent that hung about them.
Shait reminded her of bear’s scent, strong and wild. Along with the scent of woods and earth though, but it went deeper. Silent could smell the dust of the dirt and ore she sifted through to find the gems she carved. The metal (made of adamantite) that she used as she cut the gems to fit into sockets. There were days that arcane dust left a trail behind her, stronger than other days, when she had been enchanting scrolls and armor. Her armor carried the smell of meticulous cleaning and hints of blood that would never fully leave the leather.
But even if she left the form of the bear behind or stopped jewel crafting or enchanting, there was one scent that followed her that made it unmistakably Shait. A light floral note, just enough at the edge of that harsh and fierce exterior of that night elf to remind her that that force to be reckoned with was a woman and had a softer side. Lilies and starflowers. Silentsong liked that scent. On days when she was filling out reports and catching up on work when her nose would catch an unexpected hint of it, she’d find herself smiling in spite of herself.
The gnome Mordlet smelled of dark places and shadows, like musty books covered with moss. There was dust and cloth, an arcane presence from enchanting dust, and, depending on the day, like the leather of a certain Pandaren’s boot, but there was an almost sunny metallic tang that cut through the dank aroma. The unmistakable smell of what Paladin’s and Priests called “The Light.” It was warm, bright, like daisies facing the sun. It ringed the edges of the shadowy presence around the gnome. She imagined that would be what hope smelled like, maybe with less musty moss book smell and a hint more daisies, but a light in the darkness nonetheless.
Dereus was different. He was all daisies and sunshine. Although he would probably never admit it, the paladin exuded Light out of every fiber of his tin clad body, even his goofy hair. Mixed with the scent of the smell of mines and metal, he carried it well. Strength and determination, she would call his scent. Or protection, because there was blood on the armor he wore. He could polish it all he wanted, but she could still smell it. The shield had been covered so much over the years, it was part of the metal, just as it was part of his strength and determination, but he still had a soft side. Fire tempered by The Light.
Magic had its own scents. Arcane gave off a mixture of fire and nature, stars to be more exact. A night on fire, she would sometimes think. Irayna was no different. Her scent shone like the mage, arcane fire and lace mixed with the smell of books and kittens. A combination of fierce determination and frilly sophistication. Silent noticed over the years that it moved in waves that stemmed from the robes of Irayna, when she wore them. These days, she favored leggings, but the waves still crashed against her nose when they billowed off her cloak or spells flew from the palms of her hands.
Then there was that very distinct Pandaren smell, a mixture between ale, noodles, and a hint of ginger, that always seemed to linger for days. Pandaren musk, leather, grease and oil, metal, and the curiously calming scent of ink and old scrolls. That was Qale. That smell stayed for days after he came for a visit. Technology, knowledge, and fun. She loved that smell.
But between the many different races wandering around her and her comrades’ garrisons and the shipments coming in, Silent’s nose was taking a beating. Not just hers though, but cat and bear as well. In their quest to find relief, they had taken to abandoning the druid lady and spending time elsewhere. Bear had hidden away in a tree on the far end of the garrison with the Druids of Talon the and when cat wasn’t keeping Dereus company (whether he wanted it or not) she was with the two dwarves, Fanny and Keegan Firebeard, in the stables. The ever changing mounts, hay, and the ever growing pile of poop the beasts left behind kept a steady parade of scents that covered the ones that bothered her the most.
It was where Silent found herself now, sitting on the fence overseeing the animals she had just brought in. The rocktusk boar was being led in to a stall by Fanny while the new snarler wolf (or was it worg, she wondered) curiously sniffed at the Garn Nighthowl that was snoozing on its side just a few feet away.
“They be looking fit as ever, milady,” Keegan told her. She nodded as she looked them over, not moving from the fence.
“How are their temperaments?” she asked.
The dwarf nodded. He knew what she really meant without her asking it directly. “The snarler is smart,” he mused. “Gettin’ in good with that Garn there. He’ll have the ropes down in no time. They trust the more seasoned beasts and they trust you. They’ll be no trouble once they’ve been trained up a bit more.”
It was always at the back of her mind, would her mere presence frighten those around her. It didn’t matter with the guild. Sure, the emergence of Worgens was a bit shocking at first and even sometimes now when one would shift into their more beastial self when one thought they were talking to a human all along, but at least with the guild, it was closest thing to being a part of a family as she could get.
“The Riverwallow needs a good runnin’ iffin’ yer up for it.”
“Ma’m, we just received another shipment from Dereus.”
Silent glanced over to see one of the Worgen Guards struggling under the weight of a crate in his arms. She could smell the herbs inside from where she sat. It seemed the paladin had sent over another round of herbs for her to make in to potions for the guild. He had a knack of sending much more than she needed. Cat said it had something to do with the fact he hoped that they’d stop growing in the small garden he had, but they seemed to come back in force each time he ripped them out by the roots.
“Do you want this now, or…” the guard trailed off, looking sheepishly at the druid as if he’d interrupted something important.
“It’s your choice,” Keegan told her. “Flowers or beasts?”
“The Herbs can wait. Bring on the beasts.”
(I’ve been working on my stables off and on. You’d think if I just buckled down, I would have had it done ages ago. Ah well. At least I have my 3rd level Storehouse. Transmog at my Garrison. Now I really don’t have a reason to leave. 🙂