OOC - continued from here.
And also from here.
13th of Summer, 513, 21st bell, give or take a few chimes.
'Yes, it's finally coming together.' Inoadar crowed to himself. He had been working into the night at the shop, 'InoVations', his assistant of sorts, Wrenmae, on hand to perform the more menial tasks, while he did the lab work. He had no idea if his physiological theories were accurate or just so much hogwash, but the result was all that really mattered anyway.
The fluid from the lower central portion of a brain recently abandoned by a Nuit was somehow altered by the habitation of the undead entity. It was the base element of the antidote for 'Dark Reaving' poison. Inoadar was sure of it. All his preliminary testing and sample comparisons had checked out. It remained only to finalize the process, perfect the percentages and settle on part-to-part mixtures, before the purification could commence.
The last bell had been spent doing the arduous draining and squeezing, filtering and separating. Inoadar actually found himself looking forward to seeing Amolina's expression when he came through with the antidote he had promised. Of course, this assumed she had been successful in procuring HIS materials. Just any little "bit" of Clyde Sullins would do, the more the merrier.
No doubt, Amolina expected him to renege on his end of the bargain. 'Bitch, it would be just like her to assume I'd betray my word.' As much as he wanted to see her disbelief that he'd found the antidote, as he'd promised, a part of him hoped she'd fail to hold up her end of their arrangement. 'Oh, how I'll lord it over her, the antidote! Denying her its saving grace as punishment for her failure! Taunting her with salvation from her affliction, just an arm's reach away! But it may as well be on a shelf in Ahnatep for all the good it will do her! If she grovels enough, I might just be persuaded to pour it out on the floor and watch as she licks it up.' He laughed in cruel anticipation.
Just then, the bell clanged, announcing an arrival at the door. Annoyance immediately replaced his vindictive reverie. 'It figures!' he growled to himself in disgust. 'It just petching figures! Here, I'm on the brink of my reward for days of work, and having that whore under my thumb...Naturally! there just HAS to be an interruption!'
He was too far into his delicate process to stop for a mere customer. 'And what are they doing stopping by this late? I should have locked the door! Aaah well, too caught up in my victory to think about such trivial matters.' It was all he could manage to turn his head away from his measuring and droplet counting long enough to issue instructions. "Wrenmae, would you go and see who that is?"
Inoadar returned his focus to eye-droppers, beakers and burners. A moment later, his count achieved, he stood up from the table, arching his stiff back with a groan and a twist. Now it was to wait just a few chimes and...It suddenly occurred to him that Wrenmae had not informed him who had arrived. Had he left?
"This better be good..." he grumbled as he turned towards the door to the front room.