Closed Work Thread

[Ayszel]

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[Ayszel]

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[Ayszel]

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~1 Bell Later~

Ayszel wiggled through the tight confines of the cavernous entrance in snake form, the large basket heavy between her teeth. As soon as she had slipped through she allowed herself to shift into her Dhani form. The cavern was only large enough for two individuals and in her Dhani form she was forced into a tight coil. However, it made it easy to reach from table to brazier quickly, without having to move back and forth. Though she had never admitted it to herself, it suited her laziness just fine.

Heaving a stack of wood into the brazier Ayszel crouched beside it with the flint and steel from the table formed by tree roots. The striker was a rounded edged rectangle that glimmered in the faint beam of sunlight that managed to make its way through the canopy and through a hole in the roof above the brazier.

She stuffed a coil of tinder into the bottom of the brazier with one hand while she grabbed the flint in the other. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, the process was difficult and the most frustrating of any potion making. Just keep striking them. Eventually it’ll work. She reassured herself, Don’t lose your temper She chanted. She knew she was prone to do.

Smacking the smooth edge of the flint against the striker several times she only managed to break off several pieces of flint. Right…other way around. She remembered and switched hands, holding the flint in her left and casting the striker down with her right. Do I strike against a flat part? Or an edge? She knew her sister had shown her several times, but admittedly she’d not had the patience to pay attention. She had wanted to learn potions. Besides, her sister would always be there to start the fire for her right? She had been wrong.

Eventually the striker finally hit an edge of the flint and a cascade of sparks erupted from the violent strike. Right! Edge! She would have squealed with delight had she not such a disdain for such childish displays. Placing the two pieces near the tinder she began to strike again. The sparks landed with delight upon the fuel but quickly fizzled out of life.

Ayszel stopped and furrowed her brow. Cisslyi had done something different here…she…. The idea slithered into life suddenly and she grabbed a piece of the tinder and placed it between the place where the striker and flint would meet. Striking several more times she managed to inspire a warm glow to sustain itself on the piece of tinder. Neatly tucking it in amongst the other pieces she waited and watched for the fire to come to life.

It took several chimes, but eventually she had built up the fire enough that she could leave it snapping away to fill the black cauldron from a nearby stream. As she dipped the heavy lip into the water it almost slipped from her fingers. Gasping she reached for it tighter, soaking herself in the process. Course… She groaned.

It was easy to find her way back to ‘The Circle’ not only because she had done it a thousand times before but because the quiet plumes of smoke that rose from the fire led her back through the deep ferns. Slipping into her snake form she wiggled through the entrance, the cauldron too large to drag after her and after shifting once again pulled the cauldron through with her human appendages. I can’t remember how I ever got by before these…She thought, marveling at her fingertips.

[Ayszel]

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EDIT EDIT EDIT EDIT EDIT EDIT

Placing the cauldron, filled with approximately three cups of water, on top of the snapping whispering fire Ayszel sighed with relief as she released the weight. Returning to the book she ran her long nailed finger along the page until she found the next step; Mixing sugar and water create a syrup from the boiling water. Mix with a wooden spoon until the sugar dissolves.
Ayszel hefted the bag of sugar from the large basket and thrice over scooped a cup of sugar from its contents. It slid into the water with a whoosh, creating a thick wet pile on the bottom of the cauldron. Taking the large wooden spoon from its place hanging on a root she slid it into the water and stirred slowly.
Inclined to daydream while engaged in the more repetitive aspects of her work or hobby, she did so now as her hand moved ‘round the pot slowly. DAY DREAM
When she finally tuned back into the potion it was boiling delightfully and the sugar had vanished.I wonder why in magic, a substance has an identity that is immutable and yet here we have a substance that once was become no more.She pondered puzzled.

[Ayszel]

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The next steps outlined in the book were extensive in only a sentence; add Cinchona bark, citric acid, lemongrass, and the rest of the ingredients. Fortunately, she read further, the Hangover Tonic addition made a note not to add the mint until the end. Well that could have been a debacle… She decided, glad that the paper was so heavily marked up that it had forced her to do more than her usual skim.
Opening the jar of Cinchona bark she drew out one of the three stout thick sticks and placed it in the mortar container. Working the pestle through the thick crumbling wood was difficult and her arm began to ache quickly as she leaned her weight onto the wide handle. The dry bark crumbled slowly, though far more quickly than it would have had it contained moisture Ayszel thought, thinking of the leaves she sometimes had to grind.
A thick layer of brown powder spread upward through the air making Ayszel cough loudly only to arouse more powder. The powder layered itself within her mouth as she inhaled making her drop the pestle and back away. It was thick and foul, almost acrid. Coughing hysterically for a fit it took several violent black exhalations before she approached the mortar again. Rubbing the black grit from her hands onto her sides as best she could she felt them smear along her snakes distastefully. Right…must be black from the moisture in my lungs… She considered wrinkling her nose as she gazed at her hands.
While the jungle was a muddy filthy place in many respects the constant wash of water also had an uncanny ability to keep everything relatively clean. As such, she was used to the thick layer of mud along the bottom of her scales but not on her hands. Grasping the water pouch from her side she gurgled it gracelessly several times before she had rid herself of its last remains.
Drawing up her quill she made a small note in her pert illegible writing Do not inhale when grinding. next to the scrawl of her grandmothers. It was her first addition to the book, and she had made it thoughtlessly and continued with equal disregard. Perhaps her first mark, a mark of caution and first aid was a foreshadowing of her future than not even she could yet see. Then again, perhaps because it was not to be honoured it would hold no water in her fate. Instead, another first addition would be honoured, when she got around to making the seal each individual made to mark upon the papers and recipes they contributed to.
Hopefully the mint will help with that taste… she thought to herself, when the bark was finally thinned into a powder. Very slowly, and close to the surface of the water this time, she added the powder to the pot of bubbling water. Each subsequent piece was easier to grind than the other but each aroused as much dust as the last. How can I fix this…perhaps if I put a cloth over it to trap the powder and mash it through that? she decided. As a Dhani she had never baked and the idea of dampening the powder so that it was heavier would never have occurred to her. But in the very physical and visceral world of the Dhani, a barrier did. Placing the cheesecloth between the pestle and burgeoning powder she crushed much more safely.

[Ayszel]

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Next, she pulled out her eating knife and brought them to the skins of the small round pinecone yellow fruits. A small nick should do it… She thought hopefully, since cutting them open would either cut her open or squish them. Their bellies gushed with juice as soon as she punctured their hides making her grin, despite herself. She hardly need squeeze them to pull their citrus out and into the heaving pot.
Bringing the hulk of lemongrass to her nose and Ayszel inhaled deeply. It was the scent of spring and freshness. Perhaps next I shall make lemongrass soap… she decided, enjoying the light fresh scent. The lemongrass tore in half with a delicious dry crackle before she placed it in the small bowl. It wasn’t large enough for the amount of Tonic she was making and so, once again, she had to do it piecemeal. Her arm tired more quickly this time, though the job was much easier, as it turned in small half circles bringing the grass between its rough surface and the mortars.
Eventually she had finished the bundle, pouring each into the black foam that obscured the top of the bubbling water. That doesn’t look good… she thought hesitantly, the book says nothing about a black foam…perhaps I should stir it? she wasn’t sure if what she did helped any, but it tamed the black foam into a scummy layer so she decided to hesitantly call it a success.
Skimming the text to remind herself she grabbed the jar of anise. The smell of black licorice hit the rough of her mouth with a heavy smack. Jeez…no one is going to WANT to drink this… she thought anxiously, hoping they wouldn’t be insulted by the thick flavor it was bound to produce. They crumbled the easiest of the bunch and she was able to quickly add them to the bubbling mixture.
Simmer…what does simmer mean? she wondered glancing between the book and her pot. Eventually, she realized neither would give her an answer and decided to settle for whatever the pot gave her that didn’t foam over the edge. This over time required many small doses of water from her water skin to keep it contained.
The liquid slowly became syrupy as she moved her wooden spoon through its depths, the thicker liquid making the oval turns more difficult. However, as she read while she stirred she noted that it warned not to allow it to become too thick, as it would make the substance more difficult to deal with/ Can happen because of…overheating or cooling. She read to herself, Well that’s quite a contradictory stick isn’t it… She decided glumly as she pulled the hot and heavy cauldron from its place and placed it at her feet beside the fire to keep it slightly warm.