She raises a hand to stop him — honestly, she hadn't intended to inflict it on him until at least the third or fourth iteration! — but there he goes. Taking her cup and drinking from it. Bold, really.
She's well aware that can be exactly that bad — and takes almost a perverse delight in seeing his boldness punished by what she knows is an awful mouthful. Jasnah nearly tells him he doesn't need to spare her feelings, but gets caught up in the question in that follows.
"Earth is soil, yes?" (Thanks, Hoid.) "And most of the soil in Alethkar, if you can call it that, is quite chalky. Bitter."
She holds out her hand — c'mon, give the cup of the experimental stuff back.
Yeah, she can have it back. He still tastes soil on his tongue. With a grimace, he corrects, "Earthy. Like— the way mushrooms taste. Savory. Like wood and pine." Not dirt.
Be a little horrified when she — yep — takes another experimental sip. Familiarizing herself with her failure. Then, instead of trying again on the same cup, she pours the contents into one of the other present pitchers. Empty, purpose-provided for getting rid of bad not-wine. She'd prepared for hardship, it seems.
Jasnah pours a second, control cup of auburn for the next round of experimentation.
"Hm," she tilts the cup, swirling what she's got, and closes her eyes. For focus. "Talk me through it again — from the beginning. Dry, you said. Astringent."
An expectant pause as she listens for her parameters once again.
He gets the sense that he needs to be far more specific. He's been talking about wine using terms that everyone in Lumière would understand, but they're clearly foreign to her. Holding up a hand, as if to stop her from doing any sudden soulcasting:
"It's still sweet. Bittersweet, maybe. Like a particularly tart fruit." Like a blackcurrant, if only he could compare it to that! "It's an intense flavor. Warm and a little smoky. Sort of like if you soaked wood shavings in fruit juice."
Where Verso realizes he needs to be more specific, Jasnah decides she needs to be more creative — to stop trying to recreate his descriptions one-for-one and to instead plunder her own sense memory, so at least whatever changes she makes will be rooted in experience and familiarity.
So! She takes that route. Simberry — not an unusual fruit to have fermented into wine — but less sweet than it is on its own. Actually, Jasnah ends up thinking about how she'd prefer a simberry to taste. Darker, fuller, spicier — in a vague, not-actually-spicy way.
After this second attempt at soulcasting the auburn into something else, Jasnah again takes the first taste. At least it's not disgusting this time. (But the resulting drink is closer to a particularly peppery white than a rich red.)
Verso takes his next taste with some trepidation, the memory of the dirt-drink she'd made fresh in his sense-memory. It's much better, though, and he visibly untenses after his sip. Dieu merci.
"Pretty good." Better than he would have expected, at any rate. Actually tastes like Lumièran wine as opposed to Rosharan wine. "—But it's a little too crisp. It should taste a bit more like... aged leather." Giving her a pointed look: "A bit."
Please don't make it actually taste like leather.
But before she can try again, he holds out a hand to stop her. "Are you sure you have enough stormlight to keep doing this?" Look at him, vaguely understanding how her powers work. "Maybe we should take a break."
Jasnah considers the small wealth of gemstones and spheres surrounding them — each one glowing with its own reserve of Stormlight. Perhaps only a small handful sit on the desk, dun from use. Her lips part, mouth working soundlessly for a moment as she considers all the small details required to explain how the current problem isn't a finite source of Stormlight within her, but rather the small amount she's able to hold at a time. Coupled, aggravatingly, with the fact that minor actions take more Stormlight than they should. Like a machine, running less efficiently than expected. Requiring more fuel than usual.
All of it probably very, very boring. So she knocks her knuckles against the desk. One, twice.
"All right. Let's take a break."
She'd hoped to get closer to something correct, something Bordeaux-ish. Something that could be tinkered with and perfected later. But perhaps he doesn't want to risk a mouthful of leather. And can she really blame him?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She's well aware that can be exactly that bad — and takes almost a perverse delight in seeing his boldness punished by what she knows is an awful mouthful. Jasnah nearly tells him he doesn't need to spare her feelings, but gets caught up in the question in that follows.
"Earth is soil, yes?" (Thanks, Hoid.) "And most of the soil in Alethkar, if you can call it that, is quite chalky. Bitter."
She holds out her hand — c'mon, give the cup of the experimental stuff back.
no subject
no subject
Jasnah pours a second, control cup of auburn for the next round of experimentation.
"Hm," she tilts the cup, swirling what she's got, and closes her eyes. For focus. "Talk me through it again — from the beginning. Dry, you said. Astringent."
An expectant pause as she listens for her parameters once again.
no subject
He gets the sense that he needs to be far more specific. He's been talking about wine using terms that everyone in Lumière would understand, but they're clearly foreign to her. Holding up a hand, as if to stop her from doing any sudden soulcasting:
"It's still sweet. Bittersweet, maybe. Like a particularly tart fruit." Like a blackcurrant, if only he could compare it to that! "It's an intense flavor. Warm and a little smoky. Sort of like if you soaked wood shavings in fruit juice."
... "But not literally like that."
no subject
Where Verso realizes he needs to be more specific, Jasnah decides she needs to be more creative — to stop trying to recreate his descriptions one-for-one and to instead plunder her own sense memory, so at least whatever changes she makes will be rooted in experience and familiarity.
So! She takes that route. Simberry — not an unusual fruit to have fermented into wine — but less sweet than it is on its own. Actually, Jasnah ends up thinking about how she'd prefer a simberry to taste. Darker, fuller, spicier — in a vague, not-actually-spicy way.
After this second attempt at soulcasting the auburn into something else, Jasnah again takes the first taste. At least it's not disgusting this time. (But the resulting drink is closer to a particularly peppery white than a rich red.)
Jasnah offers the cup back him.
no subject
"Pretty good." Better than he would have expected, at any rate. Actually tastes like Lumièran wine as opposed to Rosharan wine. "—But it's a little too crisp. It should taste a bit more like... aged leather." Giving her a pointed look: "A bit."
Please don't make it actually taste like leather.
But before she can try again, he holds out a hand to stop her. "Are you sure you have enough stormlight to keep doing this?" Look at him, vaguely understanding how her powers work. "Maybe we should take a break."
no subject
All of it probably very, very boring. So she knocks her knuckles against the desk. One, twice.
"All right. Let's take a break."
She'd hoped to get closer to something correct, something Bordeaux-ish. Something that could be tinkered with and perfected later. But perhaps he doesn't want to risk a mouthful of leather. And can she really blame him?
"The third pitcher is water. A palate cleanser."