Up in her room Stare sighed and looked around at the heavy grey and blue hangings. She took in a long breath before starting over to her small cabinet. Dragging off her fine tunic as she went she ended up just in her under-trousers. For a while she stood there, staring at herself in the long looking glass she had recently installed. Half naked, but socially acceptable for her feathers. Small breasts somewhere beneath that plumage. And there, in her aura sight the white hot pounding of divine magical energy flowing through her constantly. Strong, undying, strange.
“Fuck my life,” she whispered before coming out of the aura and stalking over to her cabinet. Pulling out an ordinary black wool tunic she pulled that on and then wove a dark blue scarf around her neck. Going over to a nearby chair she took up her various weapons, but left the armour, automatically slipping the glove over her left hand that made her claws longer and stronger.
She had lied to Nevin and perhaps he had noticed. But she had needed to. It wasn't her law, not even Vitruvion's - it had been made by the collective pantheon of Althanas. Guilt burning at her soul she started down the stairs, going from her grand room to the servant's level. Breathing slowly she opened the door that led to the kitchens and the dining room off it and came to find Nevin, standing with a pot and spoon. After a moment's pause she smiled.
“You found everything then?”
Nevin looked up as the door opened and Stare walked in - dressed far more simply than she had been before. At this point he honestly couldn't say which looked better on her - when she hadn't been stiffly formal, the fineries had suited her well, but in simple clothes she looked far more relaxed than she ever had been. The consideration was tucked into the back of his mind for later pondering - for now, he was working, and that took precedence for him. He coughed and shot a look to Mrs. Deerling, who was standing with her arms folded beneath her rather generous bosom, watching him.
“Yes, everything I need for this has been enough provided. It's actually a rather simple concoction, if one can obtain the necessary ingredients, and has a way of supplying magic to it.” With that, he straightened his back, rising up to his full height as he got to work. His lips creased into a flat line as his brow furrowed, his dark gaze focusing intently on the pan as he dropped the alatin berries into it, and began mashing them with the spoon as he turned on a low heat under the pot.
The Alchemist mashed the berries until there was a pulpy mass simmering at the bottom of the pan, then he pulled out the pouches of leaves and began tearing the plants apart above the pan, letting the shredded pieces and the juices drop into the pan. Once one pouch was emptied he stopped tearing and instead worked on stewing the solution, bringing it back up to a rolling simmer. A critical eye stared at the mixture.
