All Hallow's Eve

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”

( I am aware its a repost I was hoping perhaps it wouldn't get over looked this time)

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. Just about then she felt a very familiar sense, and almost cringed as the green flame started to engulf potion before her, she bite down on her lip as she knew that flame extremely well.

Spinning on the balls of her feet the braids would fly over her shoulders as she caught his stare, she knew that stare extremely well. Trying to keep a very composed look she would look at him innocently as she took a few paces towards him.

Yet, her eyes never really left the causality of the scene. The orb in her hand continued to stay there as she looked into his eyes debating on exactly what she wanted to say. The scarlet servant snaked across the mounds of her lips; meanwhile a twisted smirk crept across them.

“That is exactly what I was trying to do, along with the construction of a love potion number 9. “

Cutting her eyes at him a bit as she looked at him speaking, the scene perhaps looked strange as the two were standing in the middle of a magical mess. Grumbling under her breath, as she continued to look at him crinkling up her nose looking back as the flames were slowly dying down.

“It’s your fault… You are the one that suggested I started working with potions, but I am not green skinned with a wart on my nose.”