Open Post: Hard at Work

[sporesprouter]

Yes, Tress might have been up late charting stars, but that doesn't mean that she can't get up at dawn to start doing other work on the continued Operation Get Us Out of Here.

So it's barely light outside when she tucks herself into an out of the way workroom that she's decided to repurpose as a sprouter's workshop. She doesn't have much in the way of spores, just what she arrived with, but that was no reason not to use some. What was the point of hoarding a potential resource? Sitting on something that might be able to help? Not a great idea.

So she currently sits at a table with some supplies laid out carefully before her, carefully taking water from a bowl in front of her with an eyedropper to some pink-red spores and shaping the crystals that spring up from them with a small iron shield-shaped plate and a steel trowel. She's working slowly and incrementally, but several finished spheres sit on the table away from her active work.

On the floor to the side of the table are several full drinking water bottles that she found and commandeered, knowing they'd come in handy if she decides to move on to her next idea.

For now, though, pink crystal spheres.

Comments

[sporesprouter]

Tress nods. "She is. I had a cup with a painted horse on it, but I'd never seen one in person. I was a little worried about how large she was, but she's very sweet."

[wickedwit]

"They're always larger than you imagine they've any right to be. I admire anyone who can keep a horse tame and sweet." Claudius interrupts his own private admiration of Sagramore to ask, "Do you think you'll take up horse-riding?"

[sporesprouter]

"Maybe at least a little. He's offered to teach me and I figure there are definitely more horses here than ships, so it might be useful to at least know how to do a bit."

[wickedwit]

"It's all I can do to sit on a horse and not fall, quite frankly. But you might do well at it. It can be freeing -- no less than sailing, I'm sure, for those who are skilled at it."

[sporesprouter]

"If I can achieve not falling off, I'll count it as an achievement. Even if I do fall, I'm sure they'll both be very patient with me."

[wickedwit]

"I've no doubt," Claudius says, in pleasant recollection of Sagramore's warm patience. "I do appreciate all you've done. But I'm afraid we'll all start battering ourselves against the bars of our collective cage trying to escape. You ought to enjoy yourself -- it will give you stories to tell Charlie."

[sporesprouter]

Tress's lingering smile freezes on her face in the manner of someone who is very deliberately trying to maintain it. She takes a slow deep breath, mind yelling at her both that Claudius is obviously trying to be kind and not to cry when you're working with spores. The last thing she wants is roseite crystals sprouting into her eye sockets.

"Of course," she manages, vaguely.

[wickedwit]

Claudius's eyes flicker over Tress's frozen smile, then back to the worktable of projectile spores he's just been versed in. He can tell what it looks when someone's suppressing something they don't want to feel because expressing it could have disastrous consequences. "Lady Tress," he says, gently. "Should I apologize?"

[sporesprouter]

She shakes her head, leaning back. "No. No, you're fine, you didn't do anything wrong. I should be wearing my mask and goggles anyway, I don't know what I was thinking. There aren't any spores that would be nice to get into your eyes, but I definitely don't want to make the problem worse, so everything's fine, it's fine. Don't worry."

[wickedwit]

"I didn't want to tell you your business, but you it did look like work that required eye protection," Claudius says, moving past whatever Tress doesn't wish to talk about. "I suppose I never considering offering this ... but I can make antidotes and medicines. I don't mean to suggest you should come to me if you ever have an accident with spores -- I'd still go to the one of the men with healing magic. But I've handled distillations. I can help with your more repetitive work and research."

[sporesprouter]

She starts digging in her bag for her goggles and mask, still chastising herself for somehow forgetting basic safety precautions. "What kind of help were you thinking of?"

[wickedwit]

"Most of your works appears to be based on an alchemical reaction between spores and water. If you need me to, I can create things according to your specifications, so that you needn't make the same preparatory compounds over and over. Or I could help you test and research other applications for them, other interactions. It's your laboratory, of course ... so put me to work, tell me what needs to be done." What he's saying is I know you're working this hard for a reason, and there's someone you miss, so let me help you.

[sporesprouter]

She takes a deep breath, quiet for a moment. "You're right. This is just busywork, mostly. And you can help with something."

She puts her goggles and mask back, grabs a very small aluminum container, about the size of a matchbox, then takes her silver knife off of the table and hands it to Claudius. She puts the container in a pocket of her coat and then scoops up the water bottles from the floor.

"Let's go outside. Less distance to cover."

[wickedwit]

Claudius takes the knife without question -- some questions may follow, but Tress seems galvanized, and Claudius feels he'd best kept up with her current. "Lead the way, Lady Tress."

[sporesprouter]

Tress walks outside, sits down in a clear patch of lawn, and surrounds herself with the water bottles.

"All right. First off, this is going to end up looking worse than it actually is, so I don't want you to act too quickly."

[wickedwit]

"That's a good way to start," Claudius says cautiously. "I presume there's a second off."

[sporesprouter]

"Second off, when it's time, I'm going to need you to use that knife to cut the black line. But not too soon."

[wickedwit]

"Black line," he repeats. "I assume that's going to be rather obvious. How will I know when it's time?"

[sporesprouter]

She looks around and grabs one of the water bottles, twisting off the lid. "I'll have it drop this. When it falls."

[wickedwit]

"Understood," Claudius says, like a good laboratory assistant, as he starts to form some guesses about what this experiment might pertain to.

[sporesprouter]

She nods. "All right. If something happens, it doesn't drop, and I look very bad... you can cut it then, too. But if I somehow lose control, it will probably drop it anyway, because I doubt it will see much value in a lid."

[wickedwit]

Claudius ventures a guess, because the talk of an it that will take over if Tess loses control is alarming enough ... but for some reason, it might sound less alarming if it can be explained in terms of colored spores. "Are these the ... midnight spores you're using?"

[sporesprouter]

She nods. And then out of her pocket, she pulls both the small metal box and a small figurine of a bird that she found in one of the mansion's copious sitting rooms.

"Are you ready?"

[wickedwit]

"I trust you, Lady Tress," Claudius says. In case that's unclear, he adds, "and I'm ready," and gives a twirling hand gesture. Cut the black line when the lid falls. Cut the black line ... How did he go from volunteering his assistance as an alchemist to holding a knife and waiting for something like possession to happen?

[sporesprouter]

"All right."

She opens the box, carefully withdrawing three spores which she sets on the lid of the box, next to the figurine. Dipping a finger quickly into the open water bottle, she shakes a drop of water onto the spores.

They start to bubble and melt together, growing and inflating, almost balloonlike, until the blob reaches about the size of a fist. It continues to twist, an almost face-shaped tendril emerging from it for a moment as Tress concentrates on the mass. It continues to shift and stretch, mimicking the shape of the bird figurine, trying out its limbs which are moving nearly in a way that match its form.

Tress lifts the open bottle of water to her already parched lips and drinks... and keeps drinking until the bottle is empty. She lets the bottle drop to her side as her eyes almost glaze over, and she stares off into nothingness. As Tress very inadequately described, a black line of shadow starts to form between her mouth and the... not exactly a bird.

The creature hops a few times, flopping around like a fledgling who knows it's supposed to fly but doesn't exactly have the least idea how. A few more tries and it manages to take off, inelegantly wobble-flying upwards, awkwardly taking the lid of the bottle as it goes.

Meanwhile, Tress is sitting motionless, and another meaning to her words makes itself clear as she begins to, slowly but visibly, dry up. Her lips become chapped, her sightless eyes more and more bloodshot, her skin slowly losing elasticity. By the time a few minutes have elapsed and her face and limbs seem to be actively shrinking, the lid to the bottle drops with a soft thwap to the grass.