It does what.. again?

[breeevil]

"It's not always rubbish, Ferny."
If there was one person who can honestly say that they live by the phrase, 'one mans trash in another mans treasure,' it was the potion maker. She had found a cozy place in the forest to make her magic.. dragged a falling log for a (not so) comfy place to sit, arranged a small circle of large stones to start fires in for warmth and light (with a very conveniently located bucket of water near by in case something should get out of hand) and cleared an area to lay her blanket so her supplies could be spread out for her to consider. And there is some serious considering going on, here.
On the blanket lay things like corks, piles of animal fur, candles, an assortment of herbs and childrens toys; small bottles of liquids and ashes and more. Nothing that looks very.. usable, except maybe the quills and parchment clenched tightly in a hand. Raia is dressed in her usual dark colors, cloth covering all of her flesh save for her hands and face and is even sporting her cloak.. hair pulled up in to it's knots held in place by feathers and sticks (and probably countless vials) so she can see what she is doing. One arm is wrapped tightly around a pot, careful not to let the parchment or quill fall inside.. the girls free hand hovers in the air above her 'supplies' like she is thinking so hard about what to add to this 'soup' next. "I doubt very highly that it would make a difference, using brand new things. Maybe it would take away from the character of the.. potion.. well okay I don't think it would take anything away from it, but it wouldn't make it better. Maybe just add a bit more shien to the user which.. as we have learned.. is *not* always a good thing."
The girls eyes turn to her BFF, the fern in the pot that seems to be with her almost everywhere she goes. Still alive, which some might find surprising.. and even looking like he is growing. And right now? He ruffles.. like someone blew a breath on him.
To reply.. Raia shrugs her shoulders. "It is for keeping him warm. I don't think I'll be adding anything like that." She says, turning to eye a spinning top.. a childs plaything. "I was thinking.. a candle, a pepper, some cider.." Once agian her eyes sweep over the stuff on the blanket.. lips pursing and twisting to the side as she thinks..

[Rance]

"Maybe a pinch of rum -- it is meant for keeping bodies warm, is it not?"

The fire had not been hard to trace. It sent billows of woody smoke through the canopy, and as evening started to fall, she saw the orange glow within visible distance from Catch's woodpile. She had not known who would be there, but curiosity got the better of her, and she approached with obvious steps, never wanting to startle who might have been there.

She knew it was the potion-maker in an instant, and the tightness in her chest started to melt away. Forward, the seamstress stalked, her heels crunching through hard-packed snow and fallen twigs, the warmth of the fire calling to her, inviting.

It was not with want to interrupt, but moreso with the desire to observe that she squatted down on the other side of the fire, drawing open the corner of her bonnet to let the warmth of the fire touch her chilled face, her dry-skinned cheeks. In her hands, she had a shirt, a simple thing, and a carved, bone needle still dangled from a bit of black thread from the half-finished embroidery on its collar.

She reached out her gloved hand and opened her fingers, taking in the smoke, the heat.

"I thought -- I thought maybe you could use some company," she said, though she had not thought of it, for she had not even known before moments ago that Raia had even been near. "Unless, of course, if it would interrupt your process. Yes?"

[breeevil]

Raia knew someone was coming. had known it would happen since this morning. Knew someone would be approaching at some point but had no worries about it. Not even some. The red headed potion maker looks over at Gloria and beams.. all smiles and good moods. She watches her friend come and take a seat. "Rum.. I had not thought of rum. Cherny thought of spiced cider.." She says, looking to some of the small bottles spread over the supply blanket. Nodding as her fingers hover over a few small pieces of cloth.. red and black and green in color. She chooses the red and tosses it in to the pot, smiling down at the 'brew'.
"I can always use your company, Gloria. Will you be warm enough?" She knows how her friend hates the cold and Raia is moving to unclasp her cloak from around her neck even before the seamstress has a chance to answer her.. standing and walking to Gloria with the black wrap held out in front of her.

Once again.. she is unphased by the cold.. the chill means nothing to her. "Nonsense.. you will not interrupt anything. Mr. Chlon says I work better when someone else is around because it makes me more eager for things to work how they are supposed to." Otherwise she winds up embarassed and that takes days to recover from. The skirt her friend is working on is eyeballed for a moment and Raia smiles, "You have such a talent, Gloria." For sewing. Raia would never ever be able to do something that required so much focus. "Do you use the needle of bone for a specific reason? Or just.. that's what you have?" She is curious about this because if she does not use certain items for certain brews.. they fail. Maybe sewing is the same.. metal needles are not as good as the bone ones? Maybe Gloria just prefers the color?



Once the cloak is deposited around Gloria's shoulders, and no Raia will not take no for an answer, the potion maker moves back to her supplies.. hand once again hovering over the display like she is waiting for something to jump up in to her hand all on its own. After a moment, a handful of green leaves are scooped in to her hand and crumbled.. dropping in tiny little pieces in to the pot which is starting to smoke just a bit.. somethig that makes her head tilt and a confused expression flash across her face. Normally there is no smoking or BANG until she adds the directions! "Must be doing something.. right.." She mumbles, nodding. For a potion to make someone warm.. steam or smoke or anythign like that could not be a bad thing, right? Right.

[Rance]

"Spiced cider is a very good idea. Quite better than mine, I think. Master Cherny has got a big brain in his head; I would trust it implicitly."

She did not deny taking Raia's cloak, and when the potion-maker draped her with it, she nestled her chin into its collar and kept it closed from within. She was quite partial to the heat, when her tarsweat would catch the hot winds and cool her skin. Though she did not entirely despise the cold, the chills in Myrken Wood were far different from those on the Glass Sands. Desert nights were a special kind of cold. A crisp, desolate kind, silent and suffocating.

The only kind of sandstorm worse than one at the highest point of day was one at the zenith of night, when the tiniest bits of sand -- melted by day, turned to glass by night -- sliced through the air to cut skin or pierce an unsuspecting eye.

"I suppose that I am alright at it," she said, of her sewing, though she was quick to step beyond that subject and delve into the further curiosity. "Bone needles are what we use in Jernoah. You see? We cut them out just like that from dead men's femurs, or from jah'zoon horns. Well, I do not do the cutting, but other folks do. Sometimes craftsmen," she said, and then added more quietly, "sometimes rat'vak."

She shifted around to the other side of the fire and squatted down beside Raia, perusing her blanket of wares. She dared not touch a single one of them, but could not help to express her curiosity through her words. "Then if it keeps you focused, I guess -- I guess that it is not so bad that I am around.

"Who is Chlon, and -- and may I help?" the seamstress asked, tilting her chin. "I will never be a potion-maker, but maybe I could drop an ingredient or two in? Or is that dangerous," she said. "I would not want to take away from your expertise." She sniffed with curiosity at the smoke boiling out of the pot, the steam from her breath curling up and meeting it halfway, as if they were one in the same with that bubbling little cauldron of potion. "And you think I have a talent. Menna Raia, this is absolutely astounding."

Then, the seamstress turned her head, and asked with raised eyebrows.

"We will not blow up, will we?"

[breeevil]

"Not better.. just different." Really, Raia would never know what would or would not work or what one thing would be better than that other thing.. not until all was said and done and someone tested out the brew. It was possible the cider would turn someone bright red as it warmed them while the rum made them totally belligerent and steam from the ears. Those were, of course, both things she was trying to avoid at all cost.

The potion maker's grey eyes travel back to Gloria and the needle, head bobbing in a nod as her friend tells her about the why. Raia found it kind of disturbing.. the thought of holding a human bone in ones hand.. the thought of using that human bone to make things that the person who gave that hunk of bone would never see or use or wear or what have you. But.. hopefully it does not show. She would never want Gloria to think something about her past or about her job made Raia uncomfortable.. just like the girl never wanted anything she did to make others feel that way.
More than anything, though.. the potion maker is curious about the words Gloria used. "What is a jah'zoon?" She asks.. giving careful thought to the way she pronounces the word.. and not messing it as she usually does. "Or.. rat'vak?" That one, somehow, sounds even more unpleasant than a jah'zoon. Maybe because rats are creepy.

Raia wobbles to the side when Gloria is close enough to bump their shoulders together and she smiles, even giggling a bit. "No.. not bad at all.." Is said quietly. She rather enjoyed it when Gloria was around.. it could only help her cause tonight. "Chlon.." She says, sniffling a bit and reaching for a little leather bag that is pulled shut by tightened strings, "Chlon is one of my teachers.." The bag is pulled to her and her fingers toy with the strings to work out a loose knot and get the bag open. "My favorite.. he's my favorite. Of the two. Nicer.. than Mr. Raiz." her sentence is broken down in to smaller chunks as a pinch of ash, the contents of the bag, is tossed in the pot before her eyes find Glorias face and she beams.
"OH! I'm so glad you asked that!" People being so creeped out by her.. normally the first thing they did when they saw someone tossing stuff in a pot that started to steam was run away. "But you don't know you will never be something! When I could talk to cats and puppies I never thought I would be able to do this.." Her head shakes, smile staying planted firmly on her mouth, "But look at me now!" The girl thumps the side of the pot with her fist and the steam, before mostly transparent and lacking color, turns red in color.

A hand is waved over the blanket that is littered with random items. "I have put in, so far... some leaves from a hot-pepper plant, a piece of cloth, some ashes and the cider Cherny suggested. I was also thinking a candle and a piece of cookie.." She says, then her lips press together and she looks back at the blanket. There is a running theme with those ingredients.. all things that could, in one way or another, make someone feel warm. save for the cookie.. which she was mainly adding for the taste but she assumed that since cookies were baked in ovens and ovens were warm that it would be consistant enough to not ruin anything. There are both a candle and a cookie on the blanket, but also things like string, tea leaves, a jar of what could be (and hopefully is) honey and several other pouches like the ashes were found in.

"Astounding?" That was a confusing word. It amused Raia.. the way everyone always thinks that everything other poeple do is so much better or so very different than what they do. The girl knew she would never sew a dress, bake a cake or learn to dance. She did not realize that other people would not figure out how to make things like she does.

Laughing lightly, Raia sits back and shakes her head, watching Gloria for a moment, "No.. I promise, my friend, we will not blow up. We may wind up with some.. some ashes on our faces or dirt under our nails but.. never blow up." At least she hadn't blown up yet! "Please.. pick something to add." Raia is excited.. almost trembling. No one had ever added something for her.. suggested things to add, yes, but not actually done it. Having Gloria be the one to do it when the potion was for Cherny, someone Gloria seemed to love so much.. well.. Raia thought the results could only be good.

[Rance]

And that was Jernoah — the kind of place so forgotten by the rest of the world, by even the kindness of nature, that its people needed to find use for even the corpses that were worth it.

Grinding their bones into meal for the Glasshouse plants.

Recycling the bleached bones into utensils, into buttons for coats and gowns, into sewing needles.

Burning the skin and meat into a crumbly porridge, sometimes to feed the animals, sometimes to feed the rat’vak when the sand-gardens were not yielding their usual crops, or when the jah’zoon migrations were low.

”A jah’zoon,” she said simply, her eyes mesmerized by the shifting colors within the thickening smoke, “is an animal we use for many things. We eat its meat and sinew, grind its antlers for smelling salts and incense, and preserve its urine for our soups. You might be surprised how good it is.”

There it was, her efficient and honest smile, her misshapen teeth and a wind that caught the ribbon of her bonnet. ”Rat’vak, though, we should — we would be best not to speak about here, yes?” A flicker of the eyes toward the bubbling pot. “They are talk for a less pleasant time, when all is not well in the world and we must revel and wallow in what Sol Paulis calls ‘the inevitable tarsweaet blackness of the basest human’s soul.’ But this is not that time – this is a time for potions!”

She leaned her shoulder against her friend’s, still young enough to unabashedly appreciate the closeness, the warmth of someone else without asking, without even wonder if it was polite.

”Chlon must have been a very good teacher. Yes, astounding is the word. It is as though you take the most mundane things—“ and to the cookie, she motioned, and to the dried tea-leaves, “—and turn them into wonders. How would I not be astounded, Raia? It is alchemy; it is science.”

Perhaps the seamstress did not truly understand the nature of science, its reality and its tangibility, in comparison to her thin and basic understanding of magic and ritual. No, what Raia did to her was science, for it was foreign and fascinating, especially to a girl whose whole system of understanding and beliefs was rooted so inexorably in talk of Nameless and gods that did not have faces.

How did the Glass Sun rise, why it must be the Nameless showing their riches to the world.

How does ice become water, and water become steam, why, it must be the ascent of the water’s Basic Being when the Nameless’ hot eyes have done it in!

Why do babes know, before anything else, the need to squeeze with their hands or latch to a nipple, why, the Nameless have defined those instincts — that is simply how it must be.

”Astounding,” she repeated, as she pored over the blanket, her skirts rustling around her folded legs as she took up one of the bags and plopped it into her lap. Within it, there were chestnuts of various sizes, so she extracted one, and between her fingers held it for the fire to scald its outside black. She did not flinch away from the heat. She invited it.

”Why was Messa Raiz not so kind a teacher, Raia?”

Then, when the chestnut was entirely burnt — she could have cracked it with her fingers, let them share the warm treat — she hovered a hand over the pot, and dropped it in.

The girl dissolved into playful laughter when the chestnut vanished within the mixture, and turned to crush her cheek against Raia’s shoulder, as if fearing a vicious backlash or a wild plume of fire.

”Boom,” she said, giggling.

[breeevil]

Those were the kinds of places that terrified people like the potion maker. The reasons that her teachers and parents did not let her stray far from them and never went far from the nice and safe home they had built for themselves. Myrken, however.. while there was no flying glass (save for during the occasional bar fight) and no ones bones were being use for toothpicks or needles (save for.. well.. where Gloria was at any given time).. Myrken was not shaping up to be much more than a place that scared and worried at Raia.
The girl pays no mind to the smoke but listens with all her might to the words Gloria says, learning something about a HORRIFYING and far away place.. was still learning. Even if only about the animal called jah'zoon. 'Sinew.' That was Raia's least favorite word ever.. and when her friend says it, the girls nose crinkles up and her lips purse a bit. But the expression is short lived because there is talk of soup, "I bet it is wonderful." Despite some of it's contents which she will not be commenting on. Who doesn't love soup. Well that wolf from just after she arrived at the Dagger did not seem to thrilled about the bowl she had presented it with, but.. everyone else loves soup. Apparently even in places where it is made using urine. And thank goodness Gloria cannot hear Ferny.

Speaking of.. the potted plant gives a ruffle.. as if touched or blown on, this time lasting longer than when he has pulled the same trick before. But Raia still pays him no mind.

Raia nods, Rat'vak did not sound so pleasant.. once again, maybe it was because rats are creepy. "Another time.." she agrees, but wont hold Gloria to it. Some things were better left NOT known about, right? Only then does she finally look back to the pot, smiling at it lovingly like it is alive. All those words Gloria just used confused her.. made her brows furrow. Uninvitable tearstained black who? She would not ask for clarification, merely nod.. agree.. that this was not the time to talk about rat'vak. "Potions.." She repeats quietly, still grinning at the brew in progress. The fact that it was smoking was a good sign, in her eyes, considering what it was meant to do but it was a new thing for her.. things usually waited to steam! And she nods more, "Yes. Chlon is a very good teacher and a very good man.. he has cared for me a long time. Since I was nine. If not for them I would be sweeping floors for someone more fortunate than my family.. probably drooling and babbling like a lunatic." She was never a smart person. Even before the days of drinking Positivity potions to keep herself in a good mood she was simple.. so much so that her parents only saw fit to sell her for magic testing. That's how she came to be here, in Myrken.. but detail details. Stories for (never) another time.

Listening to the description of her work makes her smile, "Hmm.. anyone can turn garbage into gold. They just have to try hard enough. Even you make something plain become beautiful everyday, Gloria. That is the same thing, kind of." Raia motions to the embroidery Gloria was working on. To this crazy girl.. everything was science. Everything was extreme and everything was wonderful. She watched the seamstress pour over the random bags of who-knows-what, settling on the nut bag.

Raia did love the nut bag. Someone had once called her a nut-bag and she felt it necessary at that point to show them just how wrong they were in thinking that, so a bag of actual nuts had been waved in their face for the sake of teaching them something, and settling the arguement.

"It is not that he is.. unkind." She says, shrugging a bit, watching the chestnut burn and feeling a bit of worry for Gloria's fingers! "He is very.. stern, by nature. He does not like to hug or laugh or.." Give credit where it's due or tell you GOOD JOB. Raia smiles, thinking about them, though.. her teachers, "He likes for things to be perfect. And I am not perfect. So Chlon is my favorite because he tends to be satisfied." Admitted it.. totally did.. he is her favorite because he is easier to please. "Chlon likes to laugh, too."
A warm chestnut is not something Raia had ever been able to savor, never thought of it.. so it is a welcome treat for her.. and when Gloria drops the nuts shell in to the pot the girl lights up like a tree, leaning forward with a bright smile and no fear of BANGBOOMs. And there is no boom. Raia head turns towards Gloria, her cheek pressing against her friend bonnet and she giggles, hands clapping gently in front of her.. antipcation.
This potion had, by now, done a couple things it wasn't supposed to.. so there is not much shock from Raia when a high pitched whistling sound starts ringing through the clearing, not TOO loud, though it may draw in an animal of some kind if the girls aren't careful. It fades quickly though.. the pitch and volume of the noise dropping lower and lower till it sounds more like a quietly humming voice.
"You've done something good!" She chimes. She is assuming the nutshell was an amazing addition. "Whistling.. like the ears of red-faced, warm babies in story books!"

Scooting closer to the pot after a moment, Raia picks up the hunk of cookie and the candle from the blanket, holding the candle out for Gloria, "To add in.." Those would be the last two things before the actual magic happened.. yeah. There was more to this than just throwing things in the pot. As of now, looking in the pot it was still just stuff. No liquid or bubbling. Just some colored steam that was fading off by now and some whistling that had stopped..

[Rance]

The post started whistling, and her playful cringes turned into a single, curious lean forward, her gloved hand gripping her skirts, her right hand stuffing a finger into her ear as if to shield it from the noise. Raia, meanwhile, clapped -- and yes, the seamstress did too, a reactionary, mimicking response. She did it for the same way she sometimes walked like Mister Catch did, or how she sometimes repeated what Cherny said: to do what was natural in this strange place.

"Something good!" she shouted, her smile incredulous, her eyes dancing with excitement. "It is talking very loudly at us, and wailing, and you think that this is something good?"

But her grimy palm was open for the cookie and the candle, and she resisted every urge to have a bite of the doughy treat before she raised her hand over the smoking pot. Could Raia see the sheer curiosity and intrigue in the girl's eyes? She had never taken part in either science or spellcraft,

"This Chlon sounds very agreeable; Raiz does not sound so much, though I suppose we have all of our ways to teach and learn." Still shouting over the Whistling.. like the ears of red-faced, warm babies in story books! "I, for one, am very grateful that you were taught, Raia. I am glad that you are here -- I am glad that we have this moment to brew fantastic things!"

And so, instilled with the trust of her friend, she dropped in the wax candle and the cookie, and then scrambled back, hands gripping her dress and her borrowed cloak, grinning so widely that she feared her teeth might break.

Raia had said she was not perfect, but in that moment, while the two of them sat huddled in the woods over that smoking cookware? It was perfect to the seamstress, learning something wholly new, being fascinated and amazed as if she were a little girl again, learning how to eat sand and sing songs. She thrust her shoulder against the potion-maker's, watching the curls of smoke take imaginary shapes. Animals. Ribbons. Dreams.

"What will it do," she asked, eyebrows raised. "What will it do?"

[breeevil]

"Sometimes they do that. But sometimes you have to talk to them.. or sing." She had a number of potions that you had to -tell- what to do. Raia had little worry about her potions doing anything horrible.. they couldn't hurt. They might make you hiccup for a couple of days, turn your hair purple or even give call a bird to sit on your shoulder for a month but never hurt. "It's always good!" Confident and positive.
Watching Gloria for a minute once she has the last two little bits of old things that will become something to keep Cherny warm, Raia is all smiles and is pretty excited to watch the rest. She always added everything.. someone else doing it made it so much more... interesting. The fact that Gloria seemed to come from somewhere where it was HOT AS ALL GOODNESS was something Raia had spent a long time thinking about. Not only that but the seamstress was very close to Cherny.. she knew this potion would be perfect. From her pocket she pulls a piece of paper, and from her hair a pencilish type of thing. Probably a stick that got a little burned on the end (totally is).
"I am glad you are here helping me. This would not be the same without you. And not just right now.. I mean the whole time.. since I came to this Myrken." This Myrken. But she stops talking then, Gloria dropping the chunk of cookie and the burned candle and Raia gripped her paper and writing stick.. leaning in close to her friend and she even SQUEEEEs a bit, quietly but she does.
With more red smoke coming up from the pot now and a low pitched -chugging- kind of sound coming from the pot, "It will.. keep him warm and snuggly. And it will taste like cherries. And.. it will come from you, so he will love it." .. Raia thinks for a moment and with a flourish of her burned-stick she scribbles some words on her paper, 'A blanket for your shoulders..'.. She shows it to Gloria, nodding. Unsure if Gloria reads well, in the kinda dark and in Common.. but then she promptly folds it up.. leans forward.. and tosses it, too, in the pot.

And.. BANG!
"...go look." Raia whispers..

[Rance]

I mean the whole time…since I came to this Myrken.

The seamstress looked over to the potion-maker, and affected a modest smile, one that she half-hid against her upturned collar, that nearly got lost in the tossed-back folds of her cowl. She was grateful for the words –- she, who thrived off her desire to make an impact, who wished to change something, who made each seam and wondered what it mattered for the world at all.

"I could sing to the potion," she said, giggling at her friend’s infectious excitement, butting her shoulder up against Raia’s –- that was their little thing, the way they shared moments together and connected, nudging one another like schoolchildren laughing over the antics of some fool boy or blushing behind their Historie books and sharing a chuckle at Mother Proctor’s expense.

As the red billows plumed up into the night-drenched canopy, she turned her attention away from the shadowy figures in the alchemy smoke, and said very quietly to Raia:

"Maybe -- maybe you can stay with me from now on," she said, less an inquiry and more a timid suggestion, and want for the proximity of a friend without begging. "I am not selling enough things, enough little bags, to pay for my room. Menna Dulcie will toss me onto my laurels in the mud in no time, and -– and it would be nice to have the company. Yes?"

She returned her eyes to the pot, gurgling out its bubbling cadence. She wondered if it really would taste like cherries; she wondered if Cherny’s face would brighten when he discovered how much thought was put into it, when he realized –- oh, how did Ember call them –- what GOOD FEELS were mixed into the concoction. Raia’s blanket for your shoulders was dropped right in.

"I mean," she said, "that is if you would like to. If you do not mind a stinking Jerno in the same room, or that I sometimes wake with little fits, or that sometimes I cannot sleep at all, and--

"Cherries for Cherny," the seamstress said, interrupting herself, her smile widening. Her tongue curled into the shape of another sentence’s beginning, then, as the liquid drumming inside the pot let out a raucous burst of noise, and she nearly left her skin upon the ground next to her. Yet, under Raia’s guidance, the seamstress leaned over and peered within, wondering what she might see.

[breeevil]

And she meant that with all her heart, Raia did.

The things Gloria wanted to do were noble.. she was a brave girl. Raia was unaware how old the seamstress was but she didn't find that age mattered much to her in the long run and calling Gloria a girl seemed.. right. Seemed fit.. the way the she held people who deserved it in high regard and the way she was careful when she spoke led Raia to think she was older than her friend.

"Next time I brew it I will come find you.. you can sing to it in your language and.. maybe I will take something to understand it and we can sing in Jernoah-ian together." She nods. That would be a good time, wouldn't it. Raia's grey eyes remain in the smoke.. picking out flashes of trees a cats and stoves.. Images gone in less time than it took to blink but she knew she saw them. It was a good sign, too. But at Gloria's quiet words Raia turns to look at her, smiling as big and brightly as ever. Stay with her.. "OH! OOOH!" She flaps her hands in front of her a bit, head bobbing up and down in a nod so fast that it send her hair a wibbling and a wobbling.. the knots losing their grip on feathers and twigs alike.. nature flying from the girls red locks. "That will be so fun!" AND EXCITING! And educational!! "Zilliah has paid for a room for me for a while.. and I was thinking about starting to sell my potions! You could make the bags they can come in.. and bows!" Because bows were important. "And then we will have money to spare. And we will make blankets for our room.. and curtains for our windows!" Oh it would be fun. Well.. it might not be safe to hand the potion maker a needle for sewing anymore than it was smart to hand her a dagger but.. anyway.

Raia is flush with excitement and joy.. this night had gone so well so far. It did not need to end. Raia reaches out to wrap an arm around Gloria, even with the stinky stink the seamstress sports, and hug her friend. "Oh Gloria.. I am looking forward to this. Really. A lot." Nodding.. then turning her own eyes back to the pot. "There are nights I don't sleep. And nights I cry or wake up from rolling out of bed in the middle of a dream about being chased by monsters.. but everything is easier when you're with a friend." All said so casually.. with such confidence like it would be proposterous for anyone to ever be upset about silly things like stench and waking with screams. "..and yes. Cherries for Cherny." A cute rhyme of sorts.. Raia thought.. which is most of why it would be cherryrific.

--For Gloria.. in the pot.. oddly enough.. is a green liquid still sending small bits of red smoke puffing from it's middle. Nothing is floating in this green bubbling stuff. No trace of the cookie or candle.. no nuts shell. It certainly smells like cherries.. the sweet ones cooked in sugars and liquors. If she can even see reflections in the potions durface.. it looks like fire.. rippling around but green.. now and then the image of a mug for tea or a scarf might materialize but disappear just as quickly..--

"Now we just have to bottle it." Well.. Raia has to try it. She doesn't like testing on herelf but she wouldn't ask Gloria to volunteer..

[Rance]

"I could make bags for you," she said, with a pleased excitement, her smile brightening against the glowing light of the boiling pot. "Maybe if we -- if we did that, people would see that your potions are just fine. And adorable. That is what they call it. Yes?"

It was a splendid idea, she thought. What capital it must take to make a business of selling potions! All the ingredients, and the expensive glass for the bottles, and the corks to plug them, and all the time it took to brew them. A labor of passion, so much moreso than threading needles and stitching sleeves.

"Oh, I will chase away monsters -- I am very tough like that," she said, flexing her arm as if it were made of a warrior's muscle, nearly crumpling against her friend with the embrace. As she watched the potion and smoke, mesmerized, she rested her cheek against Raia's shoulder. "It is easy to be frightened when no one is around. But because I will be around, there is no need to be afraid of anything, even if it is just falling from your bed.

"I may never catch you," she said, smiling. "But I will certainly try."

Singing together in Jernoan. Choosing whether the scarlet ribbon would be better for a longneck bottle, or the golden one. Having the company of a friend by candlelight should the winds against the windows seem all to real, all too pressing. Reading poetry together, for what was friendship without poetry?

Many things she could not -- as the seamstress often said, abide, but those things? Those, she could.

Everything is easier when you're with a friend.

She was on her knees, then, peering into the settling pot, chewing on the very tip of her blunted fingernails as she peered within its contents. She thought she saw a few flickering images, but they must have been nothing more than her imagination, a thing set free when around the right friends.

"Do you just dip the bottle in, and--" she clapped her hands, "it is done?"

[breeevil]

"And they will be perfect." The bags.. because Gloria made them. Even if they were crooked with one side longer than the other and a draw string that wont close.. they would be perfect. But Raia shrugs a bit, "I don't know that people will ever think they're just fine. They're different and people are scared of different." Someone had said that to her not too long ago and there were times she took it and ran with it.. of course there were times, too, where she ignored it and said that people were silly things who should be more trusting.

One of the great things about these potions were that they were all but free to make. Raia would gather things for the brewing.. it cost her nothing but time. Now the glass for bottling and the fabric for bags and the pretties for ribbons.. those things would have to be figured out but Raia did not like to concern herself with things like cost. She just figured it would work out and things would be fine.

A laugh as Gloria flexes, "We will protect each other. Catch each other. That is what roomates do.. what friends do." That is what Raia and Endy did (kind of) and what she and her teachers had always done (kind of). She nods. "And we will laugh.. all the time." She says, grinnign still, "And make pretty things.." So much they could do, these two girls. The seamstress and the potion maker. And the fern.

Moving around a bit, Raia digs around in a her bag, causing a clanking and ruffling kind of sound as she looks for, "The.. perfect.. one.." She mutters.. face twisted and nose scrunched in effort and determination. The perfect bottle. Pulling one from the bag she studies it for a moment.. a small bottle, maybe 2 inches tall with a very short and thin neck and a bubble-ish base.. round and heavy. Her eyes move back to Gloria after a moment and she nods.. then shrugs, "Well.. yes." She grins, holding out the bottle to Gloria. "You should fill the first one.. it will make it more magical when you give it to him. Just hold it by the mouth and dunk it in.. it wont hurt your skin. It's not even warm to touch." She knows this without even having really seen the potion yet .. it was not warm to the skin because she didn't want it to be. She will sample the brew once Gloria has filled Cherny's bottle.

[Rance]

"To the Veldt with those who do not understand," the seamstress said, with firmness. And she knew some of those people. Too well. Perhaps she knew she should not be friends with them, that it might strain previous loyalties -- but she could and would mitigate the differences between them. A reason to marshal her wit and her intelligence, put to good use a brain that was used only for counting seams.

"Raia," the dirty seamstress asked, glancing up, nuzzling her cheek against the collar of the potion-maker's cloak, her voice steady as she asked: "If something was done to -- to prove to a great deal of people how benign your potions were, at the hands of someone I trust so very greatly, would you let me do it," she asked. "Would you believe in me to help you?"

They could do so many things together. She would catch you, Raia of No Known Last Name, if she could. And perhaps she had already tried.

The Marshall knew.

"I hold it just -- just like this," she said, pinching the vial between her fingers and around the neck. It was with the utmost care that she leaned over the pot, and at the insistence of the potion-maker's instructions (the girl trusted them implicitly, and only when her bare hand got near to the potion did she realize it was not hot, not hot at all), she dipped the potion within. An air-bubble blurped to the surface. The potion spilled into the tube, heavying it. She extracted it carefully, her fingertips shuddering for fear of having done something to sully the concoction, but as she turned back to her friend, she giggled and thrust it out to her.

Maybe they would brew potions all the time. Maybe, before bed, each on their own bunks, leaning over the brewing pot just before midnight, wondering what kind of splendors could bubble to the surface. A potion to not make tarsweat smell so bad. A potion to make the shadows on the ceiling seem not so frightening. A potion to turn their feet as warm as hearthstones, so they did not get too chilled beneath the sheets.

If it was allowed. If girls could keep brewing potions.

Only the Marshall knew.

"I did it," Gloria said, holding the bottle out to Raia. "I did it, like you said."

[breeevil]

"No..." She says with a shake of her head. "To no where with them.. let them wallow in their thickness. It's not worth your grief." A shrug. Raia did not know many people and the people she knows seem to be, generally speaking, good and nice and forgiving and not buttheaded.
There are a number of blinks and a clearing of her throat before she can answer the questrion her friend poses. "Gloria.. I don't want you to be troubled. No one is accusing me of anything.. the ones who think I'm no good are the ones who are nasty and mean to everyone and.." Another shrug. "...To no where with them." Is repeated.
"But i will always believe in you. I would never doubt you for a minute and I think it's very nice of you to be concerned, and if it is something that will make you feel better I will help you show that my potions are not dangerous to anyone we can."

There is a nod to the vial and a big smile for the seamstress.. and the potion maker watches the vial be filled, filled with all sorts of happy feelings. Sure.. her brain is swimming like it always is and come a month from now she will have to reach reach reach deep in to her brain to dig up the memories of tonight but knowing that Gloria has something to give someone.. knowing Gloria will be her roomate and knowing Gloria would put her neck out there just because they're friends is a really.. nice.. thing.

Little did Gloria know.. Raia did brew potions almost every night and if Gloria wanted to help always.. she would love it. It would be like working in a kitchen... recipes being created every night. Potions to make your voice louder, to turn something to chocolate or change the color of your eyes and hair for a day.

"You did it!" Raia's arms thrust in to the air and her hands wave around.. excited hands. Victorious hands. After a moment of happy hand waving, a cork is held out for the vial to be stoppered. "And now he can use it to stay warm while he.. uh.." What does he do? "Does what.. he does."

The girl starts to pack up her things.. rolling up the cloth her supplies are laying on, filling a couple more vials and offering empty ones for Gloria to fill, too, if she wishes.

Once on their way back to the Inn, Raia's arm hooks through Gloria's, leaning her head gently on the other girls shoudler as they walk, "So when should we start uh.. moving.. things?"