( @syntheticnocturne / Send a 🙌 and I’ll introduce you to an NPC related to my Muse )
Bauhaus’ The Man With X-Ray Eyes sets the tempo for tonight’s rite. Their altars erected, their candles lit, the circle chalked and salted, black. No one particular ritual would take place tonight. Misa and Donnie work extempore—that is to say—if they can come together long enough to do so. And this had always been easier said than done.
The MOONLIGHT filters in through the window, steeping in vessels of rain water left out on the sill for harvest. They limber up with some light divination, a tarot reading. Misa then sets the deck aside and begins sorting through her apothecary. Donnie looks on. Even a witch’s pantry needs an occasional restocking.
❝ How long have you had that? It’s no good now, toss it. ❞
Misa’s a talented witch, she’s just not a very practical one. He inches over to her side, plucks the bottle from her fingertips and looks it over, not unlike she had done, but for himself.
Donnie leans, not quite on her, but into her, his idle arm limply thrown, and draping her shoulder.
❝ Think I’ve got some BURIED on the grounds somewhere. Unspoken water, however carefully made, eventually loses its potency. Sort of like—Hell, I don’t know—exposure to sunlight causes... Hydrogen peroxide to... decompose? Traditionally, the mode of application was immediate administration in absolute silence, hence unspoken water. ❞ It’s a pain in the ass to produce, but Misa knows better than to hoard diluted properties.
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