Phoenix Altair Schwartz || Sirius Black (choosetoact) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2015-12-13 22:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | phoenix schwartz, rowan stark |
Who: Phoenix Schwartz, open to Rowan and Wyatt
What: Potion experimentation
Where: In the Marauders apartment.
When: Sunday 13th December. Evening.
When Phoenix was hurt he had difficulty expressing that pain. He'd either get angry enough that he wouldn't talk to the person involved or he'd brush it off as if it didn't matter at all until he became angry enough to ignore them. Very rarely would he actually bother to tell someone they'd hurt his feelings in any way. Once any anger passed he'd go back to treating them the same way he always had.
Currently he wasn't sure where he was in terms of having his best friend disappear during the last full moon without so much as a text. He'd been worried. Might have even ranted a little about Rowan being a wanker, though mostly to himself. He had definitely punched a hole in the wall which he them had to fix. But in some ways he had blamed himself. He should have been quicker at figuring out this goddammed potion which would at least let Rowan keep his mind during the transformation. He'd known for a while now that something was changing about his friends condition yet he hadn't finished the elusive concoction properly. Could be really blame Rowan at all after the scare at Halloween?
So here he was, hard at work in his room trying to brew Wolfsbane potion. It wasn't easy. In fact was definitely up there as being one of the hardest things to brew correctly, but he had a werewolf who needed it. At least he figured that without it Rowan would probably refuse to ever let them near him during the full moon in case he hurt one of them. As if that had ever been a problem. Unfortunately, his last 18 attempts at this potion had been definite failures. The color was wrong. Or the smell. One of them smoked too much. Another 3; not enough. But finally he had something. A breakthrough. Once the brewing process had completed it gave off that telltale blue smoke.
He'd done it?!
Well. Maybe. He gave it a cautious sniff, which he regret almost immediately. The stuff always smelled as bad as it reportedly tasted. He just couldn't tell if it was the right kind of offensive odour. Only one way to tell, he guessed. He swirled the glass stick he'd been using to stir it occasionally and pulled it out, looking suspiciously at the drops falling back into the cauldron. Before it all had a chance to return to the rest of the potion he stuck the thing in his mouth to test it. Yep. Tasted as foul as it smelled. That was a good sign.
The sudden burning in his throat and violent stomach cramps didn't seem like such promising signs. When they didn't die down after a couple of seconds he knew he was in trouble. He doubled over in pain, smacking his head on the table he had set up for potion-making sending several things flying. Rubbing his temple and clutching his abdomen he staggered towards the door vaguely aware that his vision was losing color. The journey from his room to the shared living room seemed like it took years of agony but finally he was there contending with the door handle.
By the time he got it open he could barely see. Definitely couldn't tell if anyone was in the room. Had his hearing gone fuzzy too? His voice sure sounded distant and...weird.
"...might need the clinic." He managed to groan as he fell face first onto the floor.