March 27th, 1888 — Oakshire Hall, Kent
Antigone had spent the time since she had "gone to bed" gathering her ingredients together for the potion she was supposed to have made a month ago. This time, Moselle was barred from her room and she had a spare moth chrysalis in case disaster struck twice. The only thing left was a sky clear enough to see the moon and that one was beyond her control. Fortunately, when she yanked the curtain back she found a satisfyingly bright and full moon staring back at her. Perfect.
Almost, anyway. The moon was bright but she wasn't sure the light from it was direct enough to work and she wasn't taking any chances with this potion. All it took was one wrong step and she could be a mutant for life. Infertility was one thing but wasn't sure she could persuade Tiberius to keep her around if she had lobster claws for hands or a goose bill in the middle of her face in lieu of a mouth and nose. The latter would probably make it impossible to say anything anyway. Merlin's beard she hoped she didn't turn into a fucking goose.
With everything gathered and ready, she pulled on a robe and headed outside. It was crisp and cold outside but the moon was shining brightly and this time nothing was going to go wrong. This was it. After this all she needed to wait for was lightning. Tig laid out her ingredients and instruments on a sheet she'd brought with her. She reached first for the vial. With her wand she cast a counter spell to remove the sticking charm keeping the mandrake leaf in place inside her mouth and then she violently spat the thing out into the vial. She wiped the dribble off her chin with her sleeve. It definitely wasn't the most ladylike potion to brew. Next, she buried her free hand in her hair, only removing it when she had a single strand of blond pinched between her fingers. This was added to the vial.
Tig knelt down next to the sheet and placed the vial of spit, leaf, and hair to one side while she unstoppered a small bottle and poured the contents onto a silver spoon. The dew had been the hardest ingredient to procure but it was easier on the second attempt. She added the teaspoon of dew to the vial and nibbled her bottom lip as she examined the contents. Next, the damned moth. She plucked the chrysalis between her thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the vial, then she stoppered it. For a moment she simply stared at it, a little taken aback that it had been such a quick and relatively straightforward process after all the waiting. She gathered the remaining things up in the sheet, pocketed her wand, and kept the corked vial in her hand protectively as she sprinted back inside. All she had to do now was stuff it in the attic where it would be in quiet, undisturbed darkness until the time was right.
After all this, I better not turn into a damned goose!
Almost, anyway. The moon was bright but she wasn't sure the light from it was direct enough to work and she wasn't taking any chances with this potion. All it took was one wrong step and she could be a mutant for life. Infertility was one thing but wasn't sure she could persuade Tiberius to keep her around if she had lobster claws for hands or a goose bill in the middle of her face in lieu of a mouth and nose. The latter would probably make it impossible to say anything anyway. Merlin's beard she hoped she didn't turn into a fucking goose.
With everything gathered and ready, she pulled on a robe and headed outside. It was crisp and cold outside but the moon was shining brightly and this time nothing was going to go wrong. This was it. After this all she needed to wait for was lightning. Tig laid out her ingredients and instruments on a sheet she'd brought with her. She reached first for the vial. With her wand she cast a counter spell to remove the sticking charm keeping the mandrake leaf in place inside her mouth and then she violently spat the thing out into the vial. She wiped the dribble off her chin with her sleeve. It definitely wasn't the most ladylike potion to brew. Next, she buried her free hand in her hair, only removing it when she had a single strand of blond pinched between her fingers. This was added to the vial.
Tig knelt down next to the sheet and placed the vial of spit, leaf, and hair to one side while she unstoppered a small bottle and poured the contents onto a silver spoon. The dew had been the hardest ingredient to procure but it was easier on the second attempt. She added the teaspoon of dew to the vial and nibbled her bottom lip as she examined the contents. Next, the damned moth. She plucked the chrysalis between her thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the vial, then she stoppered it. For a moment she simply stared at it, a little taken aback that it had been such a quick and relatively straightforward process after all the waiting. She gathered the remaining things up in the sheet, pocketed her wand, and kept the corked vial in her hand protectively as she sprinted back inside. All she had to do now was stuff it in the attic where it would be in quiet, undisturbed darkness until the time was right.
After all this, I better not turn into a damned goose!
