The Servant - Glimpses
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_Gina opened the door, easing herself out of the common sleeping room she shared with so many at night. She'd almost stumbled into the young girl carrying two buckets of dirty water. Gently she bowed and apologized with a soft voice and girls eyes lit up with a mix of wonder and fright.
For a moment, Gina gave the girl a soft, understanding smile, then she reached out and took one of the heavy buckets and half-bowed to the young maid, gesturing for her to lead the way. Scrambling forward, the girl apparently was eager and hurried down the hallway.
After Gina had handed her the bucket she had carried the young girl curtsied and dashed back with the empty buckets. Gina turned to begin her day for real, reassured by the little incidence. Some things seemed unaffected by political decision of how the trade between Peltarch and Oscura was regulated. And that thought gave her some reassurance as she waded ever deeper into the political mess, fully well knowing she would drown eventually._
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_Some people might argue that knowledge has a peculiar, wonderful scent, and for some this might be the various gentle scents found in a library. Maybe the dusty state of some of the more ancient books with their gentle odor of the past and its knowledge stuck between pages that haven't been touched for ages, or the fresh scent of a recently cured parchment with the lingering scent of tanning oil, a hint of the source of such recordkeeping. Or perhaps it was the smell of ink, like a good heavy liquor, a powerful scent providing the means of remembering through the ages.
Gina had never found herself quite at home in libraries, and while she could recognize the value of such knowledge, and the importance of writing things down, for her, knowledge was not a pleasant scent - it was the sweat, and far more rotten smells, all mixed together. She stood in the middle of it now, a few paces away from the entrance to the crypts near Norwick, and paused a moment to let the memories fill her. Those crypts held many, many secrets, and while she wished to uncover as much as she could, they came at a heavy price.
The vampire had left little of her own blood to dry and provide the usual coppery contrast to the smell of her own sweat under the armor. And it was just as well, whatever secrets the crypts held came at a heavy price. For while Harvey might be more talkative than a common vampire, it was after all driven by the all consuming hunger for blood that defined its kind.
She took one look back upon the crypt, taking in the scents of the graveyard and then she set off to Norwick. The lingering stench of failure following her mercilessly. Idly, she wondered if she could even dare to hope that her companions would make use of the fighting chance they were promised._