InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Nooooooooooooooooooo!0(0"

ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ, ʀɪᴄʜɪᴇ (trashing) wrote in valloic,
@ 2021-09-03 12:38:00

Entry tags:

!: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: rasalas black, ₴ inactive: richie tozier (2)

WHO: Richie & Rasalas
WHAT: Ras uses Richie as a guinea pig for her Seer potions (opening the Third Eye and shit) and he super sees stuff
WHERE: With Prigany
WHEN: Today, this afternoon
WARNINGS: Not really??
STATUS: Complete

Now that all of Prigany was back where they belonged (meaning out of the hospital and like, actually conscious after an Indigestion-shaped adventure), that meant Richie was also back - he was spending as much time with them as he could. On his days off and before he worked nights, and weekends too - he’d sit on the caravan steps in the evening and would actually take the time to savor the moment (drinking whatever tea Destiny foisted upon him) while watching the embers of the nearest crackling fire fade as the day came to a close.

They’d also just repainted the cabinets in one of their caravans, which Richie helped with - kind of a fun task, considering paint would drip down due to condensation, and the upper cabinet doors were removed to make way for open shelving. They were done though, and bright teal, a shade which went well with the botanical dream Prigany had going on - all these plants, downright jungle-icious with a touch of whimsy, hanging jars, and soft light bouncing of the glass of those jars. Plants helped bring the outside in, and there was definitely no shortage of mugwort - he started using it more and more, washing his hands with the soap before doing automatic writing and also using the soap to clean his pencils and whatnot.

It seemed to work. Even if the smell of the mugwort was earthy, a hint of marigold to it as well - definitely musky. He could pick up the scent anywhere by now.

He knew Rasalas had been in contact about her Seer potions - and, admittedly, Richie was curious. Why not volunteer as a guinea pig? Mugwort also supposedly opened the third eye and increased psychic awareness, so it wasn’t out of left field that a potion with other ingredients would do the same thing. Guess they’d find out?

“So - “ He sat on the caravan’s floor, Argus the terrier nestled in blankets beside him. On the coffee table, he had his pencils and sketchbook all set up. “This isn’t gonna kill me, right?” Just, you know. Checking first. Hashtag yolo?

Ras had been working on the potion for a while, doing her best to plan out the ingredients appropriately and discuss some things with the Prigany people as well as Silniara. No one was fully a potion-based coven. There were healing potions and she knew the dangerous ingredients from both her world and this world. Things that didn’t mix well. She’d taught herself most of everything.

She’d written down everything that she used, how it was prepared, and how things looked because she needed to be able to recreate it later. Having access to the entirety of the Potions books in the library at Hogwarts made things easier.

She wasn’t sure that she was capable of visions because she was, in fact, not very psychically inclined, so trying it out on someone else was definitely more useful to her to understand. It was possible that it could affect those less inclined to psychic visions, but Ras didn’t know.

“I was very careful in how I chose the ingredients. I have everything written out if you need to see it.” She glanced at him. “I tried a drop of it, just to be certain it was fine. As you can see, I have not perished.” She wished still that she had Snape around to help her in these matters, but she was just herself.

Hmmmm, interesting. Richie took the cork off the bottle and gave the contents a whiff. It smelled earthy, sort of like the mugwort - but more rose petals and maybe cloves or something. Probably some other stuff that he could never fathom consuming, like chicken lips or caterpillars - shit from the Harry Potter world was wild, but he was still pretty certain that nothing really would kill him (and if he almost died, wasn’t there a bezoar or something that could save his life? Stomach of a goat?). Mostly he just liked teasing Ras a little - though she was very calm and classy, and had even written everything down.

“So studious,” he grinned. “But cool - I won’t drink the whole thing, I’ll save some for you. That way you can try more than a drop and we can see the difference in how it works.”

This was science. They were testing shit all professionally over here. And Argus the terrier looked at him like he was nuts, yet didn’t seem to want to move from his cozy spot in his blanket nest. “Well, here’s to it,” Richie toasted her with the bottle and tipped his head back to pour some of the liquid down his throat. Then he coughed. “....huh.”

“Well, it would hardly make sense not to. If this works, then I’d need to know how to replicate it.” And one attempt took out a nice cauldron and she’d had to replace it. This one had a sort of olive coloring to it and it was definitely hopefully going to do something. But if not, she’d find a way.

“I…doubt I’ll see anything. I’m not really…well, like you or the others.” And maybe that didn’t matter, but maybe it did. It was at least not likely to make her hallucinate. Probably. But maybe that was part of the psychic experience. Hallucinations. She hoped not.

She watched as he drank from the bottle, waiting to see if there was an immediate medical emergency, but he didn’t seem to be reacting poorly to it. She chewed on her fingernail for a moment, taking the bottle and eyeing it mostly. She wanted to argue that at least someone should be cognizant of what happened in case something weird did happen and they need to document it, but there was a good chance nothing would happen. Then she could still just document.

She watched him as she drank a little bit of the potion. She felt more alert at least to the space around her, but she didn’t know if that meant anything. Or if she was just anxious. “Is there anything?”

“Lemme try it out. I’ll go looking,” Richie replied, sliding his sketchpad toward him. He picked up one of the pencils and rolled broad shoulders, gearing himself up to fall into the zone. Psychic visions usually didn’t happen for him in a two-by-four to the face kind of way - not anymore, which he was grateful for. Maybe that just meant he had gotten a lot better with them - had more control, and all of that. Prigany seemed like kind of a grounding force too and he was always happy to team up with them - that’s what being in a coven was like, apparently. Teamwork and bonding.

He had his own little focal points when he would do this at home, but in Prigany’s caravan it was one specific clock he used - the art deco novelty clock, a grinning cat in the kitchen with cartoon eyes that swiveled in time with its pendulum tail. So he listened for that, closed his own eyes, settled and focused. Didn’t tap the pencil, didn’t chew on the inside of his cheek, just - went still.

Then his eyes flew open and they were blank - milk white, cloudy as a storm front moving in. Richie’s hands were moving though, pencil sketching out whatever he was seeing in the vision. A frost that looked like dusting of snow, feathery leaves on the ground and freezing rain that was agressive - a swarm of mad insects. It splattered on streets and sidewalks and licked at the windows of storefronts; he drew it as best he could but the vision was clear as anything. He even had the presence of mind to be amazed as he was wrenched out of it, jolting a little - coming out of those was always bumpy, no lies there.

“Holy shit,” Richie blinked, glancing at his sketchpad. “That looks like - a winter storm, right? But it’s barely fall? Also your potion kicks ass, Rasalas Black. I feel like I just had an out of body experience.”

Ras wasn’t sure that she necessarily felt anything, but also she didn’t really let herself go either. She’d never learned the art of not being in control of anything. It was absolutely a side effect of growing up in the family and society that she had. Being a pureblood meant always expecting that someone was trying to judge you based on something you did and thus crafting a very carefully thought out version of yourself that you showed to the public while trying to navigate figuring out who you could and could not show pieces of the real you to. And once she’d become the heir, all bets on being able to be somewhat more relaxed were out the window. She’d been young enough then that it hardly mattered. She still couldn’t really let go here...even for this.

But something was happening with Richie and so she studied him, studied the way he looked and how unusual everything seemed. And yet, he didn’t seem like he was dying or having any trouble in that way. Just very still.

The jolt seemed to single the end of something. She tilted her head slightly, trying her best to discern if he thought she’d also seen something. But it had worked for him anyway, so that was a point of accomplishment. “I am not quite as skilled in the art of relaxing into things, so I’m not certain it will ever work for me. I am also not certain that I possess any manner of psychic ability, so that probably does not work in my favor either.”

Richie definitely wasn’t dying - he was fine, perfectly fine (except if you counted the plethora of other issues he had but that was a whole other thing). He mostly felt a little jarred - but that was to be expected, when coming out of a psychic vision. Juggling the present and the future was a difficult kind of thing - you couldn’t stay in the future too long either, hence why he got knocked out of his visions pretty quick.

But with the potion, and other tips and tricks, it was possible that he’d learn how to extend his stay - especially with more practice.

“I’m not sure if you need to have psychic ability necessarily?” he said, rubbing the back of his head - all that messy hair that he twisted his fingers through, as he considered some more. “Prigany always talks about opening the Third Eye and stuff. Everyone probably has one, to some degree - some people are just more in tune with it than others, I don’t know. Either way - your potion is cool. Would you be willing to make it regularly?” He thought he’d ask first, rather than just assume.

“It seems that way,” she said after a moment. “At least I haven’t tried to discover anything different.” Psychic visions weren’t really something she was running to add to her list of accomplishments. “But I might be better off leaving it to the people that want to experience it.” Because she was, in fact, far too anxious about letting herself become less in control of things.

But the question about her being willing to make it regularly making the potion, made her nod. “I can definitely keep making the potions.” She smiled a little, letting a hint of pride seep into her expression. “I’m glad it worked for you, though.”

Hey, Rasalas Black should definitely be proud of her potions skills. Now that Richie knew of good ways to kind of like, add a little oomph to his visions he was going to leap upon those so he could get the most out of the whole experience. What was the point in being able to see the future if you just got half-assed, crappy reception? That wasn’t helpful.

“I’ll like, pay you - or whatever. Or do something in return for you,” he made sure to add, because he didn’t expect something for nothing. But he knew Prigany liked Rasalas as well, so if she also didn’t mind coming ‘round to the caravans on occasion then maybe something could be worked out.

He didn’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to come around here, however - everytime he did it smelled damn amazing and right now was no exception. “...so I think Destiny made cookies. Should we bug her for some?” he asked, giving a little bit of a side-eye toward the small kitchen, with those freshly-painted cabinets.

“Yes, Richie,” the matriarch herself called back to them. Like, duh. She always had cookies and he was always going to eat them.

She smiled a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her hair. “I’m sure we can figure something out.” Whether it was some assistance in keeping up the greenhouses she was going to be running. Someone had to now. Money would help, but she was already, admittedly, pretty rich and she made money at the clinic if she needed to. “I have recently taken over care of the greenhouses at Hogwarts. The previous caretaker has...gone home.”

It was nice, in a way, to be in a good place with a coven that seemed to like her. Not that she thought that they wouldn’t. It was just that they were so different from the Purebloods that she usually hung out with. She laughed when Destiny replied almost immediately to Richie’s unasked question. “I don’t think we’ll need to bug her.” Sweets always had a way of upsetting her stomach and so she only ever ate so much, so she would only take one, maybe a couple that she’d wrap up to take back to Sirius.

“I can probably eat one. Maybe two, but I don’t want to push it.”

“If you need greenhouse help, I got you. And one or two works - and Destiny will probably let you take some too,” Richie nodded, scrambling up from where he had long limbs folded on the floor by the coffee table. “Smells like - “ He sniffed the air expertly, dramatically. “...chocolate chip?”

Totally wrong. Get your sense of smell checked, Richie. Though he was probably just being a shit. “They’re orange sugar cookies,” Destiny added (damn, was she listening to everything? Or did she just know? Probably that). In fact, she already had a little box full of those flower-shaped delights wrapped with a ribbon and ready to go - she presented it to Rasalas with a big smile once she emerged from the kitchen. “Of course I will let you take some. And however many you want to eat - “

Well. Richie had already stuffed a hot and fresh one into his mouth, and he chewed guiltily. Then swallowed, a sheepish grin working its way across his face. “Oops?”

“...before he eats them all.”

She gave Richie a look when he suggested that they were chocolate chip cookies. She didn’t eat many cookies, but she could tell what was chocolate and what was not chocolate. And that was concerning, but maybe he just had a bad sense of smell.

She took the box of cookies, giving Destiny a small smile. “Thank you, Destiny.” Then, she looked at Richie as he shoved a cookie in his face. “I can’t believe you thought they smelled like chocolate chip.” She took one of the cookies, breaking a piece of a cookie off and eating it. “I’m not sure how many cookies will be left now that he’s gotten to them.”

“I was kidding!” Richie insisted, then let out a playful little groan. “Always a tough audience around here. I just gotta keep Destiny on her toes, is all. Can’t let her get bored.”

“I assure you that no one is ever bored when you are near.” That was said fondly, however, like a mother who was well-accustomed to her child’s wacky ways - in a sense, it really was like that. Richie appreciated it - he was into how Destiny seemed to collect little ducklings, all the pals he’d bring by to the main Prigany caravan. He’d gladly slot himself into the role of one of those ducklings - a little (very tall) lost one who had found his way, found his people.

Plus, cookies. A steady supply of them - and you couldn’t really go wrong with that.