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Jul. 24th, 2020 at 1:05 AM
Round about the cauldron go
Alexander McManus
A witchy little narrative
A witchy little narrative
July 24th | His house | PG
When he'd arrived in Seven Devils, Alex hadn't had much in the way of possessions. What he did have, however, was knowledge. He's began his education under his mother as a fairly boilerplate witch: charms, potions, protection, etc. As he grew older, though, his lessons advanced. "Sometimes, Alexander, there won't be an opportunity to protect," his mother had told him. "Sometimes you must strike first and apologize later." Curses and hexes got added to his lessons, along with various kinds of talismans. His true strength, though, would always lie in the brewing of potions, and talismans for protection. That magic just came to him, as naturally as breathing.
So today, it was time to replenish his stock of various potions, since some of them were getting rather low. The hangover remedy he'd come up with had proved to be very useful, particularly when he spent far too long drinking into the night.. Potions for pain and headache relief, alertness, sleep, and other things, they all had to be brewed, and it was going to be an affair of several days to do them all. If he had the energy, he might make a poison as well. It never hurt to be prepared.
"Round about the cauldron go," he murmured to himself, lighting the fire beneath the large, iron cauldron in the middle of his kitchen. It sprang to life and began crackling merrily. "In the poison'd entrails throw." He retrieved jars containing various roots, herbs, and flowers, some of which could be incredibly dangerous if not taken properly. "Swelter'd venom sleeping got, boil thou first i' the charmed pot," he continued, pulling on some protective gloves.
He pulled down a mortar and pestle and began adding ingredients to it. Hangover remedy first, he could do that one in his sleep, and it took the least amount of time. "Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn, and cauldron bubble." The pestle made a rhythmic knocking sound as he ground the herbs into powder. Smoke began to drift out of his open window, left slightly ajar so his own work wouldn't smoke him out. Alexander fell into a rhythm with the ease of long practice, continuing to quote Macbeth under his breath as he did so.
This was Alex in his element. For all that he billed himself as a 'mad scientist witch', he was very careful when it came to mixing ingredients. There was experimenting, and then there was being careless. If his mother ever got the barest hint he was being careless, she'd box his ears, cursing him out in Scots Gaelic all the while. "You must be careful what you bring into the world, Alexander." She'd drilled the lesson into him from a young age, relaxing slightly when he'd shown an apitude for brewing just about anything.
Finally satisfied with the mixture, Alex tipped the ingredients into the cauldron, giving them a gentle stir with a metal oar he used specficially for that purpose. Wood was too pourous, it ran the risk of contaminating the current potion with the previous one. A few tweaks with the wood under the cauldron brought the flame to a simmer, and Alex rested the oar in an old bucket next to it, wandering into the kitchen to make himself some tea.
He'd thought, more than once, about hanging out his own shingle and selling his wares to anyone who knew to ask for them. But he didn't want to run afoul of the other magic users in this town, this place was probably crawling with them. He'd even thought about going down to the local occult shop and asking the owner about openings. His money was starting to run out, and the last thing he wanted to do was call his mum and ask to borrow money. She'd probably give it to him, that wasn't the issue. But he shouldn't have to, damn it. He was a grown-ass man, he'd stood on his own this long. He'd figure it out.
(He deliberately didn't think about the two maxed out credit cards sitting in his wallet, next to two more that were slowly going that way as well. He kept them for emergencies, and while the situation was shaping up to be that way soon, he'd like to think he wasn't quite there yet.)
Alex sighed, sipping at his tea, strong and sweet, the way his mum had always made it for him. He was starting to get a headache thinking about all of this. Sooner or later, he was going to have to confront his problems, even though he always tried his best to make it seem like nothing could touch him. A groan worked its way past his lips. His tea needed a generous shot of whisky. Sooner rather than later.
Tags: alexander mcmanus
