#i hope ya like it i am now lying down on the floor at LAX

[disasterdeacy]

What do you do when you’re on a 15 hour flight? This I guess.

[prolificpoisons]

The Price of Prolific Potions

Content Warning: Murder, Blood, Some Gore, Violence

     Jovi, for once, was displaying a modicum of capability. Her trusty drinking flask was set aside, forgotten on a far shelf across the room. Her hands were busied with a small wire rack that she had finally fished from a lower cupboard. The room around her was a space she was intimately familiar with, the alchemy lab that dwelled within Sin’s estate. She had spent many an hour here learning, studying, and honing her practice. While over the last few months Jovi had taken some time off; the time spent caring more for her liquor indulgence, and less for the quality of her work. Though, it was made evident in the last meeting between her and Sin that she was not to fuck this up again. Now was the time for well-planned actions, her capabilities withdrawn from vacation to shine once again. To be lax a second time would surely mean a worse punishment than a stern talking to, and that wasn’t an activity she particularly enjoyed.

     Crystal vials were also accrued, though as Jovi set up the beakers and flasks, the events of the night prior replayed within her mind, that sting of shadow still causing her to grimace and her stomach to ache.

     That -man-. Vile. Disgusting. Greasy, fat, and violent. The woman. The maiden whose sights Jovi’s mind has inhabited. The knife slashing across her throat, and the shower of bloody, arterial spray that had followed. The blackness that had come, lasting only a brief moment in time but leaving that rotting pit in Jovi’s stomach. Lastly, the tome. The tome fading from sight in that protective case, last seen beneath the sheen of the woman’s ruby spray. The tome, that was the purpose, all else was the hindrance.

     “As you can see this isn’t just some smash and grab job, which is why I offered you real money for it, not some pittance.” Sin’s words that followed were far too vivid in imagery, her mind still echoed, Jovi unable to quite root it out just yet. Rather, it motivated her, as she certainly did not want that invasion upon her senses to happen again any time soon. So, Jovi allowed that scene to replay in her mind’s eye, details drank in, and a plan formulated.

     Jovi blinked, her hand flipping a lever and a flame igniting beneath her beaker. In the corner of  the room, incessant whimpering caused her ear to flick and her brows to furrow, concentration corrupted for a fleeting second. For now, the sound was drowned out. Only when the sound of wood scraping upon stone met her ears, did she fire a warning glare to the far corner of the room. “Now, knock it off. Ya jus’ wearin’ me out, mmkay? Sit tight.” With that, back to her concoction.

     Another cupboard was visited, different vials of herbs rifled through until their stock of Azshara’s Veil was acquired. It was a stiff bouquet of the flower, fresh as if picked just the day before. It was laid on a cutting board, Jovi acquiring a knife to begin clean slices of the plant into smaller portions. Promptly after, those pieces were dropped into a mortar, and a pestle was set to work milling the herb to an emulsion. While she worked those flowers into submission, she continued her contemplation on her plans at hand.

    The glimmer of those arcane wards in the man’s personal repository of void collections was a sharp picture. She knew well that there was going to have to be strides made to negate those troublesome runes. Lock picks would be needed simply to gain entry, but before all that, she must be able to blend and mingle amongst those humans, or at the very least, garner as little attention as possible while she gathered information. Thusly, here she was, solving that very problem in particular. The man’s agglomeration of various shadow tainted artifacts was certainly expansive, so -someone- surely knew something of where and how to find him.  

     Those herbs, now well milled, the mortar was lifted, and the contents spilled into a cheesecloth that hung suspended over a large alembic. It was bound and squeezed, those veil flowers being extracted of their essence that trickled down into the flask. The flask was then moved, left in place within a stand that allowed a burner to begin heating the ampulla at it’s base. Slowly, a simmer began, Jovi, in the interim, adding a few touches here and there in the form a pre-processed powders she had aligned at the ready.

     All was coming together, that brew stewing away happily while Jovi kept focused on her measurements and concise stirring. Still, those whispers of muffled fear clawed at her ears from the corner, that wooden scathe on cobbles sounding more urgent than ever. It hardly mattered, as it was time for the final ingredient. Again that knife was picked up, the flame on her mixture lowered to save it from burning that precious pot of brew. Back across the room she went to that very corner she kept aiming her warning and annoyed glances to.

     There, secured to a chair by chains upon wrists, ankles, and waist, was a woman. Some poor soul that had been caught, tricked by Jovilanni the night prior. The woman’s eyes wide with fear, the gag in her mouth stifling any words but merely allowing concerned whimpers to emit weakly from her. Jovi hardly knew this woman, but to some degree, she did. Jovi offered her a half-assed smile of apology, and a simple shrug of her shoulders.

      “Look.. S’nothin’ personal, really. Ya know, gotta do what I gotta do and all that. I gotta admit, I kinda liked not havin’ blood on my hands there for a while, but… Volatile Life’s -real- hard to come by, s’real expensive.. And I would jus’ rather make it myself.” She chuckled, waving her hand with a shake of her head, “Lookit me! Cheap as always, amirigh’?” She paused, leaning in towards that woman, their faces falling level as Jovi’s eyes mirrored her own. The words that then left her lips trailing a concise, toxic venom all their own, “ ‘Course, you’re cheap, too, aren’t you? Stole from me and mine. My friends really. I am sure you thought it a mild offense, but we don’t take to extortion lightly, and frankly, you just fucked with the wrong woman at the wrong time, lady. I hope that last high was -really- worth it. Because, well, like I said, it’s gonna be your last.” Jovi was hardly sympathetic anymore, her tongue clicking as she stood, reaching for a basin that rested on a nearby table. “For what it’s worth, you are saving me -so- much gold, and making my next job -so- much easier! How great is that?!”

     Jovi’s intent was obvious, that bowl cradled in one arm, the knife clenched in the other. There was a swift, horizontal arc of Jovi’s arm, leading that blade to whip the tip of its edge perpendicular to her throat. The blood coursed free, Jovi quickly dropping the blade to wrap her fingers into the hair upon that woman’s head, bowing it down. The bowl was nimbly cradled right in front of that pumping wound, the blood pouring and pooling into the basin, so fresh that it steamed. Jovi stayed there until the blood ran no longer, that bowl having collected quite an  of that heated vital essence. Of course, the woman passed silently, any pleads muffled and uncared for into the gag in her mouth.

     Action, she had to be quick. Jovi moved to a table that lay in another corner of the room, bringing that basin to rest upon concisely drawn alchemical symbols she had lying in wait. There was a dulled metallic clang as the vessel of blood was set to rest, those symbols igniting upon its touch. Three vials were pulled from Jovi’s pocket, tipped in turn to collect to pernicious vapor that coiled up from the pot. Those vials were corked, saving the vile, writhing vapor within.

     Her goal had been achieved, Jovi striding back to that beaker that simmered in wait. Those vials uncorked and tipped, that volatile life pouring to mingle with the previously spawned mixtures. Now that liquid spawned and seemed to live on it’s own over the heat, finishing it’s cook in mere minutes, Jovi pulling the beaker from the flame. A flask akin to the one that usually bared the weight of her liquor was retrieved, the potion carefully dispensed within. Finally, it was done, her illusory cover; a potion of illusion.

     Jovi smiled, leaving the lab to instead seek out her private room in the estate. The woman who made the ultimate sacrifice was left behind, Jovi surely assuming that Alak’lyn would have use for all those fresh parts left over. It was a macabre gift, in her mind, for the one whom had instructed her so well in her practice.

     Once in her secluded abode, the door was shut and locked behind her. Her clothes were shed, and there she stood, that flask of potion in hand her frame bared naked in front of a floor length mirror. This part was always worrisome, if those finer touches of ingredients were off in the slightest, the results would not be ideal. She had brewed this with specific intents; longevity, effectiveness, and, of course, her desired appearance in mind. She mulled it over, staring at herself for a few, final, lingering moments, her fingers rapping anxiously upon the canteen.

     Forgoing any further delay, she drank deep from the vessel, that potion bitter as it swept past her lips and down her gullet, but she forced it. It never tasted good. An ample dose downed, she cringed, feeling it toil in her belly. The flask was settled on a nearby surface, for safekeeping while she suffered what was to come.

     It began at her core, that sun kissed flesh striking white on her chest, her skin shifting to a hue of pearlescent porcelain. Her hair, it was no longer ebony, but a vibrant violet hue. Those emerald pools were snuffed out in lieu of a brilliant sapphire. The illusion took root, Jovi cringing with the changes but riding out the discomfort in muted silence, save her hissed, shallow breaths through clenched teeth.

     Finally, those ripples of change ceased, Jovi opening her eyes to regard her new disguise; a Ren’dorei. She truly looked the part. For one to witness her, she was, for all intents and purposes, an elf of the void. Of course, it was merely an illusion, a trick, and not her true form; though one would be hard pressed to find the seams in her work. The only risk; carefully maintained doses from that flask that was to be her new best friend. She admired herself for a moment, finding the foreign appearance rather satisfying and convincing.

     Her clothes were reapplied, hugging that new frame rather well, as the build hardly differed from her own before. She looked the part, now it was time to play it. She gathered her things, readying for another excursion of time long spent from home. Though, she certainly couldn’t leave without doing Sin a good frighten, after all, she worked hard, and someone, sacrificed much for her to have this appearance; she was going to indulge it. After that, however, the time for play would be over, and work would truly begin. She had a well protected tome to collect, and the process of that, in itself, was surely going to be the true challenge in all this.

     She moved to Sin’s study, her pack over her shoulder and readied to depart. While she waited for him she helped herself to his collection of maps, withdrawing a few that were tailored to her needs: a detailed map of Stormwind, and the forest that lie beyond it. With those atlases gathered, she was as prepared as she could be, save the meager joy of giving Sin a good startle by the stranger that inhabited his study.