- ???: Take your blood vial, and check the next step for the mixture.
You decide to pocket your blood in your self-programmed inventory system. There are a few rules to your unique and fully functioning inventory system that can sometimes impede the traffic of items coming in or out, but for the most part it’s flawless.
Sometimes you wish chemistry could be as easy as programming.
After putting the vial of your own blood into your inventory, you then check the next step to the mixture.
Right now all that’s left of the mixture is to let it sit. It was supposed to sit overnight and have some variety, but so far it’s only bubbling, so once again you play the waiting game.
You hate that game.
==>
- ???: Neglect that shit post-haste. Only good things can come from throwing caution to the wind. Now to venture forth, and start my day pro-wait. Is…. that secondary mixture my BLOOD!?
Bubbles. How pointless. You do what you do best in these sorts of science queries and turn your back on your project. Whatever it’s doing it’s clearly not exploding, and that’s really all you care about. Besides, you’ve learned in your scientific experience that it’s best to just say ‘fuck all’ sometimes and let things just happen.
That sort of thinking helps you well whenever you jump.
But before you go about your day, you look over at the secondary mixture, which isn’t your blood. That would be silly. It is instead a concoction composed of a number of things. If you were to simply add your blood to the Grexnis formula, who even knows or cares what would happen. Probably some more distortion shit.
No, your blood is in the third vial off to the side. Kind of big, but Marnics can bleed a lot. And do.
==>
- ???: Review purpose and process for Cyntephonil Grexnis.
From what you remember your Master telling you in your latest Alchemy Lecture and from the ‘notes’ you wrote for yourself, Cyntephonil Grexnis is a concoction that is supposed to be stable inside a frame of space, that meaning it’s spacial displacement from one existence to the next causes it to lose balance. But you’re not sure what your notes mean by ‘lose balance’, so the bubbles are a safe thing to take note of.
The most complicated part of the Grexnis formula is its very process, starting with the mixture in which one combines a variety of minerals stretched all across the globe and even some that grow naturally on the moon, but fortunately with the intense realm hopping your Master does, all the ingredients you needed were and can be and still are found in his Alchemy Garden.
Or station.
Whatever.
After combining these choice minerals, you have to very slowly add a composite liquid that’s made from an object that either lacks spacial or temporal relativity, and then another few parts of a type of herb that can only be found in the woods surrounding your estate. This sort of convenience of supplies would normally set a lot of Alchemists off, but since your Master is a renowned wizard and expert alchemist it’s very simple for him to collect all manner of components.
Huh.
Seems as though you actually retained something your Master taught you. He’ll be so ‘impressed’ to hear this later.
Anyway, the beaker to your right with the muddy red-brown colored liquid is what holds the secondary formula you’re supposed to slowly introduce into the main brew. You had a faucet-like device that allowed the formula to enter the brew drop by drop while you ‘slept’, so by the time you woke up for the day it would have been a sufficient amount.
Remembering that, you turn off the nozzle to cut off the Grexnis from the secondary formula. Good thing you remembered that too, because this potion is very dangerous if left unattended.
==>
- ???: Check experiments i left sitting over night.
Yeah, you should probably do that. Master’s going to want a full report on any changes with the elixirs. Being an alchemist sure is tough. At least, that’s what your Master keeps saying. But all you really do is mix upon impulse. That usually works out, but you’re fairly certain that the big guy’s catching on to your evident lack of interest in your projects.
Oh well. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn this shit the right way.
Seems as though, as usual, nothing’s changed. May-… well, actually, looks like your Cyntephonil Grexnis brew is forming bubbles on the surface, but that might be a normal thing?
You decide to jot that down either way. Man alchemy sure is lame.
==>
???:Whats wrong with my wrists?
Nothing’s wrong with your wrists. At least, not anything out of the ordinary. It’s Marnic tradition to wrap bandages around ones fore-arms when they come of age, so after about six cycles. You hate these things so much, but you’re sure many of your people do/did. It’s hard to imagine what sort of symbolic meaning they’re supposed to represent, because for all you know it’s supposed to represent itchy arms.
You double check to see if you have any new cuts, but it looks like sleep was good to you and you bandage your formula cannons back up.
==>
??? Good gods damn. Touch base with Master, and check status.
If only the Gods even gave a damn about your condition. You’ve had these Timegrains since your village gets completely wiped out. Wait, or ‘got’.
Whatever.
Anyway, since you know your Master won’t be in this realm until half past ten, you decide with the remaining hour you have to at the very least check your status. Fortunately nothing happened during your brief sleep; your stats seem unchanged and you have all your limbs. That’s always a plus.
Sleep can be such a dangerous endeavor. You’ve woken up with broken limbs on more than one occasion.
Today, however, your status appears to be normal.
==>
I-… is it over?
Wow, you haven’t had a Timegraine that severe for quite some… time. While you have been getting more Timegraines in general, they’ve been mostly manageable. With this, however, it’s safe to say you’re considerably worried.
You may have to check with your Master later regarding your meds.
==>
- ???: Dixk, Dixk balls. Shitbitch fuckcocks.
S̗̝̪H̩Ì̻̰T͕͉͖̭̦ ̳̟̭͢͠D͔ͅĄ̖̝̳̩̜̤̝͘M͉͚͇͜N̺̫̯͚͉̥͜I̡̝̱̰͜Ţ̺̝̹̰̬͕͔̦̀ ̡̙͓͉̣́͡ͅF̠̩̘̰͕̰͡Ư̗̱͟X̴͚̘̠̟̞̣͚̖͞ ̷̹͍̩͇̤ͅͅS҉̮͙̰̟͕̜H͙͕̟̖̻̜͖͟͢I̻̪̺̫̪̙̩̹̕K̦̰͚̭͎̫̺͢͢͝ ̶̨͚̲̰͡B̵̰̖̀A̹̙̕͜͝M҉̮̰̳̤̼̦̥̺͢N͙̞̥̯̤͡ͅS̷҉̭͖I̵͎͇̘̱͜͞ͅT̜͓̻̤̪͕̲͚ ͉̖̰̜̫͙͜F̯̯̦͜Ù̢̞͇͕̟̖̺̩͈C̢̯̯͎͚̲̼̹͜͟K̷͖̪͔͎̙̙̪̕ ̡̱͓̫͉̹͓̳̫̣͜D̵̖͚̤͓͜I̩̗̞̭̭̲̤C̸͍̠̩̺͖͜Ḱ̷̭̞̘̖̗͇͡
==
- ??? Another perfectly good tent gone to waste. Dress self with only outfit.
Yep. Not like you can’t just wait for it to be back up again. With the way you live your life, things are always fucked up and not. It’s rather confusing.
Instead of spiraling down into the same maddening train of thought that plagues your existence, you decide to get dressed in the only outfit you own. It’s really the only one you need.
The thing about this outfit you like the most is how it reminds you of how everyone you knew and loved died, but are still kind of alive. Most all Marnic fashion consists of tunics in varying blue shades, and bandages for some reason. You’re not entirely sure why, and you’d ask a Marnic but going outside continues to be an incredibly difficult expedition and the only books you can find on them are war articles or fairy tales.
Marnics have very weird fairy tales.
==//
