"It is," he confirmed. On some of the tables around were circular indents of varying sizes. No silvery lines there—blank canvases to paint with his gruesome, most loved medium—charmed to keep the blood from going off or drying out. They were empty now. He cleaned them all before he left this place. Some of his instruments held circles made with silver and unicorn hair, just like in his office. He did not like working with dragon heart—phoenix feathers were impossibly expensive and hard to get. Blood was plentiful. He could always get more, make more. It was as cost-efficient as it was unpalatable.
"I do not intend to teach that to my students," he said, observing her carefully. Her hand still held his and that gave him a sense of security that even if this was unpleasant to run into, it would not scare her away just yet. "Nor do you have to have anything to do with it, if you do not wish to."
Not all blood alchemy was forbidden. It was such a niche case that legislation barely covered it. The Ministry, of course, kept close tabs on his work here in Doubt Street. Samuel was much closer acquainted with the unspeakables than he wished.
"Every Alchemist has a medium that most suits them. This is mine. It is what I do best. Blood is fickle and has many unexpected trappings if used in magic like this. But it is a pure conductor; every blood of a magical creature is. We are magical creatures."
He squeezed her hand lightly and glanced towards her. He studied her profile to read its expression, set against the darkness of this place. A being from a different sphere, for nowhere was further from the sky than down here. She wanted to see something real, and this was that. As real as he could give her without letting go of the narrative.
Samuel wondered if she could read in him his love for his craft; he only really loved it in its dark depths. Who could care about turning dirt to gold when confronted with creating life in all its ugly, precious complexity? There was a price to pay, of course. There always was.
"I do not intend to teach that to my students," he said, observing her carefully. Her hand still held his and that gave him a sense of security that even if this was unpleasant to run into, it would not scare her away just yet. "Nor do you have to have anything to do with it, if you do not wish to."
Not all blood alchemy was forbidden. It was such a niche case that legislation barely covered it. The Ministry, of course, kept close tabs on his work here in Doubt Street. Samuel was much closer acquainted with the unspeakables than he wished.
"Every Alchemist has a medium that most suits them. This is mine. It is what I do best. Blood is fickle and has many unexpected trappings if used in magic like this. But it is a pure conductor; every blood of a magical creature is. We are magical creatures."
He squeezed her hand lightly and glanced towards her. He studied her profile to read its expression, set against the darkness of this place. A being from a different sphere, for nowhere was further from the sky than down here. She wanted to see something real, and this was that. As real as he could give her without letting go of the narrative.
Samuel wondered if she could read in him his love for his craft; he only really loved it in its dark depths. Who could care about turning dirt to gold when confronted with creating life in all its ugly, precious complexity? There was a price to pay, of course. There always was.
