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theatrical_muse Potions
Mar. 9th, 2008 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
not_the_witchOne big room in the Palace was assigned to magical research. It always had been, but neither Azkedillia nor DG was much allowed into it as children. In the years between DG's supposed death and the overthrow of the Queen's government, Azkedillia tried to get into the room. She was gently thwarted every time by Tin Men or Readers or someone else who just happened by. It was one more in a growing series of frustrations that were all satisfied by standing before the Queen and telling her change had come.
While she waited for her new tower home to be built, the Sorceress tried again and again to get into that room as well. No one actively attempted to stop her. Instead the room was never quite were it seemed to be. She would open the door and look in to see row after row of tables that held vials of brightly colored liquids and small alcohol flames. Dried plants hung from racks all through the room.
The only problem was the moment she stepped into the room it became something else. Most frequently the kitchen. While a small part of the witch did enjoy the irony, the rest was rapidly infuriated by it all. She could, and did, build her own work spaces in the new tower, but that didn't mean there weren't things she could learn from the native magic of the OZ. Things she knew would make her more powerful.
Now that everyone was safely back in the Palace, Azkedillia had no great interest in seeing her mother's laboratory. Her memories of the experiments the witch enjoyed were too strong. Each time she passed the room the careful mask of disinterest she cultivated for the moments when people wondered aloud in her presence if the witch was gone.
Nothing in that room was of any particular use to her. She couldn't erase the past with a potion or fill the emptiness inside herself. No potion could do that, not really.
334
While she waited for her new tower home to be built, the Sorceress tried again and again to get into that room as well. No one actively attempted to stop her. Instead the room was never quite were it seemed to be. She would open the door and look in to see row after row of tables that held vials of brightly colored liquids and small alcohol flames. Dried plants hung from racks all through the room.
The only problem was the moment she stepped into the room it became something else. Most frequently the kitchen. While a small part of the witch did enjoy the irony, the rest was rapidly infuriated by it all. She could, and did, build her own work spaces in the new tower, but that didn't mean there weren't things she could learn from the native magic of the OZ. Things she knew would make her more powerful.
Now that everyone was safely back in the Palace, Azkedillia had no great interest in seeing her mother's laboratory. Her memories of the experiments the witch enjoyed were too strong. Each time she passed the room the careful mask of disinterest she cultivated for the moments when people wondered aloud in her presence if the witch was gone.
Nothing in that room was of any particular use to her. She couldn't erase the past with a potion or fill the emptiness inside herself. No potion could do that, not really.
334
