24 Dec 2024, 06:34
Again, shall we?
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After the one mistake Mamori had made in the first potion brew Oliver had been tempted to call this whole thing off. Say forget it and that no more brewing, he could find someone else to play his little game. And brew the potion, yet. Tragic really it was, Oliver had made a commitment. And Mamori hadn't done that bad. It had been one mistake- and Oliver could be better then letting one mistake get to him. And yet- "Don't slip up this time." Oliver told Mamori as soon as he saw him, tone icy. No complements this time. Complements were saved for teammates that didn't fall over nothing.
He had been the one to grab the ingredients this time laying them out on the table again along with a piece of parchment with the steps split between them. He'd split them half and half. He'd sadly done it before the first potion fall fiasco; so he'd split them he did the first half then Mamori the second. Could he had left during Mamori's brew half? For sure, perhaps should as well. But he needed to keep an eye on the Hufflepuff, and needed to make sure that he didn't mess anything up, so he'd brought some homework to do.
He put the four drops into the cauldron as the instructions instructed him to do, then finely slicing the bat spleen. Doing so with practiced motions, he baked often yes that much was true. But he also had a fondness for cooking. And needed to chop onions and what not for that activity. This wasn't to much different from that, other then the fact this was not an onion. It was a spleen. And he wasn't cooking. He was making a potion. And he would not eat spleen if his life was on the line.
Oliver placed the finely chopped spleen into the brew, and picked up the spoon. Like before Oliver mocked the motion of stirring clockwise, and then put the spoon in the potion and stirred twice. He removed the spoon tapping the spoon on the side of it twice. Then he turned up the heat to high. Turned to Mamori and didn't say anything. Silently judging him. A slip? Really over nothing? "Prepare yourself, I'm almost done." He really hoped there was nothing funny at play. Such as sabotage, He knew some people didn't like him there.
Oliver didn't care enough to keep track of them. Perhaps he should look into doing that- Mamori only did this for the money right? would he risk sabotage for a quick galleon as well? After ten minuets of Oliver just standing there staring at Mamori, he turned back to the potion reducing the heat to a low simmer. And then Oliver added the two eel eyes. Finishing his half. "Again, Mamori, please. please do not mess this up." He pleaded with Mamori. Giving him room to do it. Taking a seat and pulling his homework out. Keeping a careful eye on Mamori and what he was doing.
Fearless - Oliver does not scare easily, not effected by terrible presence or unsettling aura
{ Stamina: 7 }{ Evasion: 5 }{ Strength: 10 }{ Wisdom: 3 }{ Arcane Power: 2 }{ Accuracy: 8 }Interacting : @Mamori Anezaki |||| @n/a : Mentioning
28 Dec 2024, 18:30
Again, shall we?
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─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────GREAT HALL
mid october before fall ball (15th~18th)
@Oliver Armani─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| I've bolded the brewing steps for easier tracking
"Sorry about last time," Mamori managed to squeeze out as they started their second session, though the apology held about as much sincerity as a Niffler promising to leave people's jewelry alone. "Bit clumsy sometimes, you know how it is." He added with a sheepish grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, already eyeing the recipe sheet Oliver had laid out between them.
One glance at the recipe sheet — just like last time, one glance was all it took for Mamori to size up the situation, except this revelation felt more like a punch to the gut. Not only did this potion come with mind-numbing waiting periods, but there it was: first half neatly colored in brown ink, second half in pink, split with mathematical precision. And with his part being a concentrated chunk of steps, Mamori could already envision Oliver's eyes glued to his every move, probably tracking each breath and cataloging every twitch. His near-fumble in the first round had put Oliver on high alert — blast it, that perfectly executed stumble was wasted on a session where he'd already secured his sickles. There was basically no way to orchestrate another convenient accident without seriously ticking off the Slytherin. Merlin's beard — looks like he'd have to brew properly for once.
Mamori nodded and retreated to his position behind Oliver, mentally steeling himself for the torture ahead. Sure enough, halfway through, the Slytherin turned around sharply with a warning about finishing soon. And then he just... stared. For ten whole minutes, not another word left Oliver's mouth, while Mamori could all too easily guess what that look meant — the perfectionist was definitely running through a mental list of everything Mamori had done wrong in the first round, probably with footnotes and citations. In response to that, Mamori could only manage two awkward throat clearings and pretend to find something absolutely fascinating to look at to the side, avoiding Oliver's eyes like they were a basilisk's.
The torturous silence was finally broken when Oliver spoke up, his double "please" sounding to Mamori's ears like it carried the weight of several unspoken threats about the impending doom should anything go wrong. Mamori heaved a sigh. "Look, I solemnly swear that your precious potion is in... well, somewhat capable hands," then flashed a smile that was equal parts nervous and cheeky, shuffling over to take his position by the cauldron.
The first few steps weren't too challenging. Stirring twice anti-clockwise was simple enough, and grinding three leeches in the mortar wasn't exactly advanced Transfiguration either. The only potentially tricky part was determining when exactly the paste was "sticky enough" — but since Mamori had absolutely zero idea what the proper consistency should be, he just kept grinding until it looked... well, paste-like. Good enough, probably. He scooped three spoonfuls into the cauldron, though one particularly stubborn glob required a few extra flicks of the spoon to actually fall in. The following five anti-clockwise stirs were straightforward enough — honestly, at this point, the prickling sensation at the back of his head was more nerve-wracking than the actual brewing. He didn't dare turn around to check, but he'd bet his newly earned sickles that it was Oliver's laser-focused stare doing the burning.
Then came the real challenge: "Set on medium heat and leave to brew for 15 - 45 minutes." What kind of instruction was that? Who wrote these recipes with such ridiculously vague time ranges? Was there some secret potion-making wisdom that determined whether you needed 15 minutes or three times that? Could they just call it done at the 15-minute mark and be on their merry way? Sometimes Mamori wondered if it wasn't so much his inability to brew as it was these instructions being deliberately cryptic. He shot a sideways glance at Oliver with what he hoped was a reasonable question: "Er, about this 15 to 45 minutes thing... should we just go with thirty? Split the difference?" Though he already knew in his heart that even one second beyond thirty minutes would feel like an eternity.
Setting the heat to medium, he retreated to a safe distance and pretended to study the recipe with scholarly intensity, which really meant avoiding Oliver's gaze while the longest thirty minutes of his life ticked by. When the blessed moment finally arrived, he gave the cauldron a casual wave of his wand to complete the potion.
"Well, that's done — no disasters in sight. Shall we bottle this up?" he announced, already reaching for the vials with perhaps a touch too much eagerness.| ─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
| iNPC: Ilya Voronov |
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#D2445E |