Practicality for Penultimate Practice
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Stats: sta 7 ⊹ eva 9 ⊹ str 7 ⊹ wis 10 ⊹ arc 8 ⊹ acc 7 | Date: 24/05/26 | Time: A Chilly Evening| CC:#2E8B57
────────────────────────────────The dungeon was always stuffy during the last month or so of the year. A sticky droplet of sweat beaded at the nape of her neck and fell down her shirt collar as she worked over the leftover notes that someone had so conveniently left behind after their class. Next to her, the pilot light under her cauldron was lit and waiting for more fire to be fed into its mouth like a starving animal. Siobhan's hand lingered away from doing so as she wiped more sweat off of her face and continued to prep everything that she had prepared for the potion she was attempting, perhaps in an air of stupidity, to replicate.
Potions class had once been something she'd longed for when the day began but ever since her accident with her eyes, she felt a weird tug of apprehension whenever she stepped behind her cauldron for the practical portion of the block period. The lesson and theory aspect she could easily command with her wit and intellect. However the act of bringing ingredient to boil was something that had started to seep deeper and deeper into...
A pit of despair perhaps?
Either way, she found herself remaining fixed behind her assigned brewing stand longer and longer after the final dismissal. Somehow, she believed she had evaded the looks and questions of her peers but the sound of such had told her otherwise. Plenty of times, there had been a moment of "clarity" in which she had to act as though she'd been so focused on her pot that she hadn't heard the Professor call for final products. Then she would listen for the sounds of all her classmates file out of the classroom and leave as the last student before sneaking back in once she was almost certain that the Professor had left the classroom as well. It was wrong and most definitely against the rules but right now Siobhan didn't care.
What she cared about was being perfect again. Being whole again.
She sniffed loudly as she pushed her hair out of her face again and huffed as she realized that tying it up further was necessary. It was already tied in a ponytail, but bringing it into a messy bun kept it from clouding what little vision she had. Around her work station, she had the ingredients to a very simple potion. Just a simple calming draught. Something that would hopefully help with the mass events of anxiety she had been experiencing lately. To brew this potion however, did unironically cause a heavy wave of the emotion to surge through her body and nearly send the small bites of lunch that she had managed to choke down skyrocketing back up.
Around her hands, Siobhan meticulously organized her ingredients the way she had learned to do so for both her safety and the sanctity of her brewing practices. It was an old muggle practice for the blind that usually was taught for those who were learning to eat and utilize their surroundings once again. Based off the face of a clock, Siobhan's center would always be the cauldron. To her "three" would be the dry ingredients and to her "nine" would be the wet ones, with both sets already cut and measured. Above her at "twelve" her notes and vials with her wand taking its resting place at "six." An orchestration of precision, without room for error. It simply wasn't something she could afford if she was going to continue with Potions as a subject matter in her education.
The smell of the lavender and chamomile was enticing. Something that had always remained two of her favorite smells even if occasionally the flowers swapped out for lilacs in her mind. If this had been up in her room in the Gryffindor tower, she might have made up a cup of tea for herself and instead curled up with Toaster as she read over her notes for the upcoming final exams. Most of which she wasn't too concerned about, except for Divination and Potions. Oddly enough she liked the study of divination quite a lot, but it was the lack of literal sight that prevented her from accessing everything that Professor Nenovsky had been teaching them throughout the semester. Perhaps her Mammey Grandmothercould explain to her what it was that she was missing from the tea leaves that swirled about in her cup.
Siobhan let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Enough of the stalling. This potion was not one that was a quick brew. If she wanted to make it in time for dinner then she had best get a move on.
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| Manx Translations: | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Mylo Atkins ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
sta 6 | eva 8| str 7| STATS | wis 7 | arc 5 | acc 7|
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream- Sleeping Beauty
Practicality for Penultimate Practice
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XXXXX𝓣here was a small but certainly not insignificant sense of dread that hung in the air as Mylo made their way through the lower levels of the school. Ever since their incident in the potions classroom a few months ago there had been a cloud of unease filling the smaller crevices of their mind whenever they made their way to the scene of the crime.
It was illogical, nothing had happened since then, in fact they had only gotten better because of the insane attention to detail they had forced themselves to have, but the mind of course didn't care for logic. It only cared for the what-ifs, and those were running rampant in their mind, gathering speed the closer he got to the room that had spawned them.
As the doorway came into view he felt his heart rate pick up ever so slightly, their body not having caught up to the fact that there was nothing in the room that warranted such a reaction. So they ignored it, kept putting one foot in front of the other until at last they found themselves within the 4 walls that were the cause of his panic.
The very first thing to greet them was a faint scent of lavender and chamomile, signalling to them that they weren't in an empty room as they had expected to be. Normally Mylo would've preferred to be alone, to not have anybody around to scrutinise their mistakes or to have to perform for, however this was the one place that emptiness didn't translate to peace. This was the one room where Mylo needed company to feel a semblance of normalcy, to feel as though they were not at risk of drowning.
As he inhaled the smells of what seemed to be the beginning of a potion, and their body adjusted to the change in expectation, they felt their heart rate and the static that had settled in their mind fade ever so slightly. Giving them the sense that he could do what they came to do without too much fanfare.
Before they went and started to get ready to brew their own potion though they first made their way over to the other occupant in the room, one whom he recognised immediately as she came into view. Making sure their footsteps were audible and they stayed in what he hoped was her line of sight - Mylo wasn't sure how much sight she still had and what she preferred, but they didn't want to take any risks - he approached Siobhan, slightly curious as well to see what she was making.
Reaching the table that she had chosen to brew her potion at Mylo waited for a slight signal that she had noticed their presence, not wanting to startle her by speaking without her knowing they were there. After receiving that conformation they spoke, hoping to join her in the room but knowing that some people preferred their silence and needed an empty room to concentrate.
"Hi, is it okay if I join you here? I just need to brew some antidote to common poisons, if you'd rather have peace I can come back later though." Not really wanting to have to come back after tea to spend their evening in an empty room, but always being one to put others comfort above their own.
𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐍, 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 ; 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓶 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷. xx |
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| sta • 8 | eva • 7 | str • 5 You will grow strong wis • 10 | arc • 7 | acc • 8 | Perf. | Wand. | Calm. pres. In the softest way ability | ability | ability |