A overboiled pot, brings trouble.

A paintbrush lightly drew strokes across the sky in colorful swirls miles and miles high, the interlocked and danced holding within in the delicate breath of chance. The purples and blues intertwined hues, criss-crossing patterns of autumn’s clues. The sky took breaths was the trees would sway rustling overhead, violet eyes would look upwards.

“Almost time…” the whispered breath would say as the newborn moon would shine in the sparkle in the sphere of the eyes. The beam of light highlighted a particular area of the forest, and that is where the pile of wood was laid. A few smaller twigs and branches were draped across her arms as she walked towards the already made pile. A familiar saddle bag was resting against a large boulder; a tripod and a large cast iron cauldron also were there.

A black v-neck dress was pulled very tightly against her frame, the fit was perfect as it should be since she makes her own. Braids floated across the blades of her back as she made her way and with a little toss the wood fell into place. She would stop only for a moment to make sure that she was alone; the night site of her eyes surveyed the area.

Reaching over taking the tri-pod in her hand she would set it up above the pile of wood a small hook hung from the center it stood just at three feet. Moving to take the handle of the caldron in her hand she would smile, as she set the hook in place matching it with the handle of the caldron. The sense of gravity caused it to swing back and forth, she left it there while she moved towards her bag, opening the flap she would retrieve two jars filled with fluid along with a bundle of lavender and poppies.

A smirk twisted across the young females face as she moved over and first opened the jars and dumped them into the caldron and then she would place the two bundles of flowers. Sweeping her hands against each other she would nod.

“All right…”the voice whispered once again.

Pushing the braids against her ears she would close the lids of her eyes and being to speak in a tongue not known to many. Holding her right hand in a clenched fist a faint glow would occur as the words tainted her lips.

“Neuma en' templa, Vara tel' Seldarine”

The glow had fully enclosed her hand with a flick of her wrist the ball of energy would guild forward and ignite the wood with a mild explosion. A plume of black smoke would billow upward in the dusk lit sky, she hoped it would not draw to many near. Perching herself on top of the boulder, pulling her feet to her chest, she looked forward watching the fire work its magic. Resting her chin on top of her knees she would begin to sing softly to herself, her voice as soft as the butterflies that kissed your cheek.

Only it would soon stop as her eyes begin to widen seeing how the bubbles of the caldron started to run over and drop towards the fire blow causing almost a firework display. A bit of a yelp would occur when a spark would leap out and race towards her foot. The energy stung, and she moved instinctively to rub it. Colors shooting out from the breath of fire she would stand on top of the rock and begin to speak in her native tongue. Yet, her heart was beating fast and she wondered what was going wrong, she couldn't just leave her potion behind.

“Tanka tel' taurnin, Quanta yassen 'kshapsa”

Night had made its presence known as the moon peered over the horizon, flecks of auroral luminescence teasing the earth as they strained to pierce through the tree tops – alluring pigments painting the atmosphere like strokes of brilliant water color. A fog began to creep over the lands ominously, blanketing its inhabitants with paranoia – offering mystery, excitement and the unknown. The dreams and nightmares that lay in the depths of the consuming darkness dazzled it’s victims with illusions, shadows and sounds of cryptic parody of creatures in the twilight. The night had become a live as soft melodies of the cosmos resounded through the land, breaking silence’s attempt to claim sovereignty. A soft breeze could be heard as it caressed the foliage, a few leaves descending upon the ground from the timber as if in slow motion, dancing in the air like marionette dolls controlled by Nature’s breathe. Amethyst orbs, glinting with hues of silver, gazed at the graceful sight, a slender hand extending out allowing a single leaf to plant itself among her palm. Soft lips puckered as she would slowly lean her head forward and blow on the leaf, propelling it forward and up, allowing it to continue it’s dance if only for a moment – it oblivious to the wonders and dangers surrounding it. Finally it would find its resting place among the cold earth, succumbing to its gravitational pull.

Her eyes would wander, scanning her surroundings she kept her guard up at all times – this area new to her she wasn’t exactly sure where she was and what might be beyond the mist’s edge; this being her first time in Ireland. Her travels had brought her to this beautiful and wondrous island and after spending a few days exploring and seeing sights of the major city she had docked at, her thoughts began to plague her with desires of adventure – overcome with boredom. As if fate beckoning her, within that moment of thought, her eyes had befallen the forest – having always found solace and new beginnings within it she figured it would be only fitting to explore Ireland’s charming and mysterious woodlands. In preparation she would fill a small nap-sack with a wool blanket, a canteen of fresh water, a flask of whiskey and some fruit – resting it among her shoulder. Without knowing where she would end up, whom or what she would run into and what adventure awaited her she set out into the horizon towards the forest’s edge – the enthusiasm of a mischievous and inquisitive child illustrated across her face; soft, plush lips parting and arching to sport a toothy grin as she whispered to herself.

"What could possibly go wrong?"

The seductive darkness that soon befell and bathed her surroundings was not a problem, she could see perfectly fine in the night but the approaching fog that now hugged close to her like a parasite was unexpected and somewhat hindering her exploration. She began to think maybe she should set up camp and rest while waiting for the dense film to subside – but something in her compelled and urged her to continue forth. Slowly she trekked across the earth, sounds of small breaking twigs and shuffling of dry leaves echoed faintly as the weight of her body bared down upon them, her feminine leather army boots dominating the terrain beneath her. Long violet locks tossed in the cool breeze gently beside her face, digits clutching the border of her jacket hood, pulling the brown suede cowl further over her head before falling gently to her side once more, swaying ever so slightly just as her hips did as she kept pace. Soft shimmers of reflected light, with what little was offered by the moon through the dense fog, bounced off of the steel tip of her sword – it playfully brushing and tapping gently against the tight black jeans that hugged her long, slender but toned legs.

Pausing for a moment she would gaze through the foliage upon the stars that littered the heavens, nostrils flaring slightly as she inhaled the crisp cool air – allowing it to fill her lungs before exhaling softly. A smirk curling among her lips she decided to rest for a moment and take a smoke break; perching herself against a nearby tree she leaned against it, bending her right leg as she placed the bottom of her foot against it’s trunk. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a small box containing hand-rolled cigarettes and her Zippo lighter; with a quick motion she flicked the cigarette from the tips of her fingers, it flipping up like a skilled acrobat and landing among her lips. All in one motion she had just as quickly flipped the top of the lighter and ravaged her thump across the mechanism to spark the fire, the flame shooting up and searing the end of her cigarette. Gazing out across the fog, she snapped the lighter closed and put it with the small box back into her pocket, puffing slowly – allowing the smoke to roll from her lips, it swimming in the air making intricate patterns.

Closing her eyes slowly to enjoy the serenity of the night as she savored the harsh tobacco, she suddenly shook from her relaxing trance as a startling noise from in the distance echoed out – eyes peering towards the sky once more, noticing billowing black smoke. Eyebrow raising she curiously wondered where the strange smoke and sound came from, a hand reaching up to scratch her scalp questionably; but just as soon as she could get one thought through her mind a loud explosion could be heard coming from the same direction, the vibrations stretching across the earth causing tree limbs to shake in fear - she jumping from her spot and dropping her cigarette on accident, lips parting as she cursed under her breathe.

“Agh, dammit…..the hell was that…?”

Crushing the cherry out into the dirt with her boot, something caught her attention out of her peripherals – looking up, in amazement, she was seeing odd flashing colors shoot out into the night sky; ears twitching as she could hear the faint sound of a yelp.

“What the…..”

Puzzled and yet fascinated by the sudden burst of life and excitement within the forest she decided to check it out – making her way through the brush, eventually pushing through the remnants of the fog, leaving it behind her. Dodging among the trees as she followed the strange sounds towards the odd occurrence, it almost felt as if eyes were following her along the way. Shrugging it off as most likely an animal of sorts, she continued to her intended destination. Once she started to approach the scene of the explosion, she slowed her stride as she wasn’t sure what or who she would find; pausing for a moment and squinting she peered through the thick wood, seeing colors and movement of a figure in sight; she remained silent for a moment trying to make out what was going on. Finger nails buried into the bark of an oak tree beside her she leaned in to get a better look.

Perched like a hunter on top of the rock it would not be the first time that she took the appearance and doubted seriously that it would be the last. Yet, something was out of balance she was sure she had mixed the brew perfectly so many times before. Why only now would it decide to put on a pointless explosion of a show.

This was not what she wanted as she watched the sparks fly out of the pot and fizzle. Her face showed a clear expression of frustration, tapping her foot against the rock she would began to start to think of ways to stop the little entertainment.

Beside the boulder was a large chunk of rock stepping down trying to keep the pot in the line of site so that she could move accordingly if the explosions continued in her direction. Picking the stone out of the ground she would take aim reaching like true hunter, she would send the rock soaring through the wind. Its target was the tip of the tripod in hopes that she would knock the pot off the fire, little would she think about the trouble it would cause if it actually just sunk into the flickering flames.

The rock hit exactly where its mark was made and the tripod would fall over with the force of the rock. The iron pot would roll spilling out its contents into all directions until it finally came to rest against the trunk of a nearby tree, while the potion continued to spill out over the top. The flames from the fire were igniting with the distilled vodka she used to keep the flowers potent. The tail of the flame was about two foot off the ground and it started to ignite down the path in which the pot had rolled.

The white’s of her eyes were much larger than the violet iris hues as she stared at this point she was sure that she was going to hear it from Tristan as the part of the forest she was in was starting to go up in flames. She was not a fire dancer; or even charmer she only knew that she would try at least and do something? Lifting her right hand up she would begin to pull energy she thought maybe if she created a barrier it wouldn’t be able to get very far. She would begins to speak in her native tongue, she knew that it was very possibly that Tristan would hear it

The heat of the flames were unruly and raced in full charge motion towards the tree in which the pot rested against. Whispering…

“This can’t be good…”

Standing on top of the boulder she would quickly grab up the strap of her saddle bay and hoist it over her shoulder. The last thing she needed was everything in the bag to go up in smoke, holding her palm upwards she would began to chant as it started to glow, as an orb would appear in the palm of her hand.