2023.07.27 Potions and Promises
| Potions and Promises | |
|---|---|
| Sark and Dasia strike a formal deal over some things that will help an upcoming quest. | |
| IC Date | July 27, 2023 |
| IC Time | Daytime |
| Players | Sark, Dasia |
| Location | Witches Brew, Front Room |
| Spheres | Bygone, Changeling |
It might be getting later on in the evening, but Sark is still claiming his little window seat at the Witches Brew. A fresh mug of cinnamon tea is in front of him with a half-destroyed blueberr4y muffin. He's leaning on the window frame, his sandals on the floor under his table, while he idly watches the street.
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Enter Dasia, today finding her in Prada (the devil). She makes her way to the counter to get her usual - hot chocolate with a dangerous amount of whipped cream and marshmallows... AND a cookie. "And don't forget the little straw," she reminds them (of course, they never do). Once it's all finished and paid for, she slinks over to the people-watching window and slips into the seat across from Sark. Cookie plate set to the side for now, while she gives the mug a generous stir with the straw, dissolving the whipped cream and marshmallows into the steaming beverage while she gives it a moment to cool, and the various sugars to mingle.
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Sark eases himself out of his trance when Dasia enters and approaches the counter, so by the time she makes her way over to his table, he's smiling a bit up at her and waits until she eases into the seat to murmur, "Hello there. I hope everything has been going well? I have not heard from anyone since that day in the market a few ago."
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"Mmm? Oh, that," Dasia says, giving a nod. "I came up with a different idea for how to give the healing waters of spring to people, so I need not be summoned at a moment's notice, but if you'd still prefer to come up with some agreement..." She lets the offer hang there. Unfinished.
... "Unrelated to that, things are... concerning," she states plainly. "Chimerical critters swarming an apartment of extremely Banal religious nuts. We're not sure just what's going on there, but it sounds... abusive." A pause. "There was an iron skillet, we weren't sure how safe it was to press the issue, and the police were called. All in all, a spectacular fuck-up."
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Sark frowns a little as he listens, taking a long sip from his own tea mug while his eyes follow her face. When he sets the mug down, he nods slowly, licking his lips for a second or two before he murmurs, "As far as I am concerned, more healing available is always a good thing, so if I can help facilitate it, then just let me know what I can do?" And then another pause, "I see. And if I remember right, COLD iron is very very bad for you, yes? Stuff that was not forged, just beaten into shape as it is? Is there someone that needs to be eaten or set on fire?"
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Dasia finishes the VIGOROUS STIRRING, now that everything is mixed, and she lifts the mug with both hands, maneuvering the teeny straw to her lips so she can give the sugary beverage a nice long siiiiiiip. "Well, the healing is a simple thing. A potion you can either drink to heal all but the most dangerous wounds (read: non-agg), or you could add it to bathwater for a slower effect that should last some time, so just dunk people in until their wounds have healed, pull them out, and dunk the next one." Incredibly helpful, that.
Mention of Cold Iron, though, has her purse her lips and frown a teeny bit, on the verge of a scowl that could invoke WRINKLES (but does not). "Er. Something like that," she answers vaguely, not exactly wanting to answer with the exact method to create the extra-banal metal of doom and murder.
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Sark tilts his head a little at her description of the 'healing bathwater', but seems agreeable enough to the idea, chuckling a little, "I am sure that would be just fine, if it can use ANY body of water? I mean, I do not know where we are going, but I imagine its going to be out into the wild a little. If we are backed up into a corner, I can tend to some wounds with my tongue, but I could see how some people might not want to submit to that..."
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"I wouldn't try anything bigger than a bath... really, even that could dilute the water of the potion," Dasia explains. "If I were there with you all, I could just enchant a stream or pond or something... or make trailmix that heals when you eat some of it. The biggest problem is that if it's environmental, it will affect anyone nearby - friend or foe." Which could be fine if they want to keep people around for interrogations.
At the mention of licking wounds closed, she simply arches a brow, and lifts the mug to take another siiiip of the hot chocolate.
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Sark smiles a little at the look and murmurs, "Well, I mean, I gotta be big to do that. I couldn't just lean over and kiss a booboo you have right now, and do anything for it." He scrunches his nose a little at that and slowly rolls a shoulder, "So how can I help you make or enchant these potions? Or is that what you needed the Dame to agree to?"
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Dasia doesn't let that arched brow go down in the slightest. "Then maybe you should figure out a way to do it, without terrifying all the dreamers walking the streets who are liable to call in the army when they spot a dragon," she teases. She considers, and lowers the mug back to the table, so she can free up a hand to break off a little bit of cookie that she can pop into her mouth... in a moment. "Oh, the potions are easy. Just some more glass vials that I can fill with water from the big ol' clock-market," she says, pulling out one such vial with some sort of sigils written on the side. Sumerian, maybe? "Kind of like this one." The moment for the cookie has come, she pops the bite-sides chunk into her mouth so she can chew it, managing to not get any of the chocolate from the chips to smear on her glossy lips.
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Sark chuckles softly and shakes his head in the negative, "My ability to kiss boo boos better is not worth the risk of revealing what I am, and as much as I've experimented, it does not work when I am borrowing another form...even the small one I used in the Market last time. I suspect if we run into trouble that needs that kind of help, we will be in a position where it wont matter if I let my scales out." She mentions just any bottle will work and he nods slowly, "Well, I can bring a few extra with me before we head out?"
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"Mmmm... pity, that," Dasia replies about the healing only working in big dragon form. "It doesn't seem terribly practical, does it?" She breaks off another bit of cookie to pop into her mouth, and lifts the mug to siip at some more of the slowly cooling drink. "Oh, whatever you bring, just make sure it's small enough you can chug the contents with one gulp. Once the stopper is removed, the water will become one of those... environmental things I talked about. So if there's anything left over, it just might start to passively heal the enemies." A pause. "... though I suppose this also means that if there's no danger, you could just open it and sprinkle it on a few different people, so it heals them slower..." she shakes her head. "See, this is why you *take the cleric into the fight in the first place*. Too many variables."
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COMERCIAL BREAK
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Dasia finishes another siiiip of hot chocolate, before setting the mug down again. "Besides all of that," she states, moving on to different topics, "there's no need to sort out a way to summon me if these potions are to work. So. Perhaps different terms in the Contract? What would you suggest?"
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Sark rumbles softly and takes in a deep breath, slowly letting it go, "I would not be so arrogant to say I understand the intricacies between, as they say, commoner and noble, but it seemed like there was some animosity between you two over the issue. Does the contract HAVE to be with her?"
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"I shouldn't need to remind you that I am just as noble as she is," Dasia replies, breaking the rest of the cookie into several little bite-sized chunks so she can pop them into her mouth at her leisure. "This is more a combination of her being a goody two-shoe seelie with a stick up her ass - and not the fun kind - and an obsession with noblis oblige, and the differences between our houses," she explains. "As for the contract... no. Anyone who went could have done it. I *was* going to make one with you, even. But it was a question of the terms that hadn't been sorted out just yet.
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Sark mmms, "Yes, I suppose what I meant was more Sidhe versus, well, anyone else. I've already had to try to work out calming things down when Wulfra managed to insult most of them." He pauses, then nods, "Well, if it doesn't have to be with her, and you already know the Wyrd will bind me to an oath, then lets make a deal. What do I have that you would like, in return for such potions?"
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"Perhaps, if the Sidhe didn't want people to distrust their intentions, they should not have murdered commoners by the thousands during one of our festivals," Dasia almost spits out. But not quite! "Yes yes yes, not *all* Sidhe, but that's beside the point." She pops one of those cookies into her mouth as an excuse to gather her thoughts. "Oh, no need for a contract for the potions... consider them gifts. It was more a question of if you wanted to discuss different terms entirely."
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Sark mmmms, "It sounds like I would love to bribe you some evening to tell me more about the details of that war, since I unfortunately slept through it, but that can be for another time in a safer location? As for the items, you are doing us all a favor. You should be compensated for the effort. If you wish, I trust you far enough to oath to you an unspecified favor to be delivered in the future, under the condition it does not place my existence in strong jeopardy. How about that?"
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Dasia rolls her nails a couple times, just a quick click-click-click-click as the French tips hit the tabletop. "Well, as long as we don't end up counting that ride as the favor, then sure." The corners of her lips curl up. "On account of the ride potentially putting your existence in jeopardy, of course," she explains.
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Sark chuckles softly at that and winks, "I am not quite as treacherous to deal with as reputation might speak to, for either of us. I trust and respect you to a limit, so when the time comes and I feel what you ask of me merits a calling in of the Oath, I will say so, and give you the chance to agree or forget the asking of it. Fair enough?"
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Dasia nods, lifting the mug once more but does not immediately get to sipping. "Right... use the favor on something you might normally say no to - and you can still say no, but the favor will still be owed," she restates, making sure they both agree and understand the terms.
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Sark nods slowly, "And if you feel I am abusing the oath, if I understand correctly, the Wyrd has its ways for making me pay for it." With that said, he finally pauses to drain a large portion of his all but forgotten cinnamon tea, and sets it down, "Perhaps you would like to lead with an example of how I should phrase it then so it will be heard?"
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"Yeah, I suspect that it will only be a problem if I call in the favor and you agree... and then try to re-neg after the fact," Dasia theorizes. "As for needing anything truly formal... that's more for specific tasks and quests and the like. For this... well... it's a much more casual contract that we've both agreed to, yes?" She waits for the affirmative, before adding. "And so it is done."
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Dasia rolls Nightmare Dice(4) + 3 (7 dice) vs 6 for 2 successes. 1 3 5 6 +6 +10 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======---> Dasia rolls Actor(5) + Contract(5) + -6 (4 dice) vs 6 for 2 successes. 4 5 +8 +9 <-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Sark nods his head in agreement, "If that is all that requires, then yes, I would agree that we have a contract then." He pauses, "I don't actually know when we are going, or I could be more helpful about WHEN I would need the potions..."
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"Nor do I," Dasia admits, before taking the final siiiip of her hot chocolate. She sets the mug aside, and picks up one of the last two bits of cookie. "Really, anything about the size of a shot glass should do, thought it will need a glass topper, to keep the water from being exposed to the air - that is the condition to activate the cantrip," she explains. After a moment, she pops on the of the final chunks into her mouth, and stands up to start to leave. "Actually... find some about this size," she states, pulling out one such vial from her bag (which she definitely had the whole time).
As advertised, it is glass, and there are 0 air bubbles inside the vial. "Here, you can keep that one, too, no worries," she says, picking up the last bit of cookie and popping it into her mouth. "We'll talk about the religious nuts more next time, too. Maybe I'll drag you along with me to stop Kee from landing another sucker-punch. Who knows." A pause. "Do be well, Sarkesian.
