Morning all, I hope everyone had a fantastic weekend. Mine was nice and quiet. Admittedly there was a large shopping event over the weekend as well. We sort of avoided stores as much as possible during the holiday shopping extravaganza and realized we ran out of a lot of things. It felt a bit like stocking up for an expedition. We didn’t actually have to hire any Sherpas, but it was close. And now, fully stocked with all the household essentials, it is time to start the week. Timers ready? Fabulous. Then lets get this week started.
Huh. It’s been a while since I went mad scientist. Although it really isn’t completely unfamiliar territory. I might have to think about this story line for a bit. It could be interesting.
Monday, January 11th: I think it is ready.
“I think it is ready,” he told me.
I looked over to his worktable. Various concoctions bubbled away and something the color of pond scum was making its way through the distiller, dripping one evil looking drop after another. It was a disturbing sight, but nothing on the workstation looked finished.
‘Not the distillation,” he corrected me before I could ask. “That’s for Miranda.”
Distain dripped from his voice, sounding as venomous as the distillation looked. I couldn’t blame him. Miranda was the reason we were here. The reason why evil looking concoctions dripped through the distillation tubes instead of the healing potions we were accustomed to creating.
“What is ready then?” I asked. I automatically found my voice dropping low and my eyes darting towards the door. Miranda wasn’t here right now. As much as she enjoyed the results of our work, she disliked the process. She claimed the fumes gave her a headache and settled into the folds of her clothing and the coils of her hair. She teased us of having lost our sense of smells as we could no longer sense it. She was incorrect in that. Neither of us had gotten used to the change in scents. If anything we had become more acutely aware of them. Once we both went around smelling of natural growing things. Herbs and pleasantly scented oils. Then we were more or less oblivious to how we smelled, the herbs and sunshine merely a part of our everyday world. Now with the foul stench of the noxious potions we were forced to create clinging to every surface and sliding evilly down our throats to coat our insides, we missed the smells of home, recognizing them in their absence. We merely chose not to acknowledge the scent that now clung to us both at her behest.
“She won’t be here until that is done,” he reminded me, gesturing towards the still dripping distillation. “We have about two days before there is enough ready to make it worth her while to collect.”
I nodded. My eyes dropped to the level in the container. He was right. By now we all knew the timeline. Still, I felt caution was the better course, especially when dealing with Miranda.
“I have,” he continued. Despite his assurances I caught him darting glances to the door and dropping his voce down so it was barely a whisper. “An antidote.”
I took a sharp intake of breath and again looked towards the door. “For them or us?” I couldn’t help asking.
The concoction she had us make produced the effects of plague on those administered the dosage, but it didn’t spread like the plague, this putting the sickness directly under Miranda’s control. The concoction she bound us with, keeping us bound to the tower and working for her was something else entirely. It wasn’t something we had seen before and as a consequence weren’t certain how to counteract it.
“Us,” he whispered. The one word was spoken as a mere breath. He cleared his throat. “Once that is done, we will no longer create for her. Once freed she will have no more access to the toxin and therefore the others will be safe as well. We will just give her this dose and then when she has gone again we will have the time to work on our own creations before it is time for her to return again. We must be careful, but I believe it can be done.”
Ten til Midnight 