Health Hazard
This entry was also for the story contest, for the prompt to write about a huge mix-up, mishap, or misunderstanding. A jam, if you will. :)
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“And with this last addition, my creation will be complete!” Liryakys, a small Fae decked out in alchemist’s gear, murmurs. She takes the next component, a jar of red ooze, for her brew from her Coatl assistant without looking at it, small claws busily unscrewing the lid as she gazes down into the gently bubbling mixture. She giggles madly, her goggles gleaming as she triumphantly pours it in. Nothing happens for a long moment, and her fins droop in distress. Then, with an ominous, bubbling heave, the mixture within her cauldron explodes, splattering her and her assistant with multi-colored gunk.
“No!” Liryakys shrieks, darting away from the cauldron as it emits a great black cloud of smoke, smelling of burnt strawberries. “What went wrong?” She wails. Kirakira, her adopted daughter and fellow alchemy enthusiast, picks up the discarded jar, miraculously intact and inspects it. Kos, her mate and another Fae, looks up from his book well out of the splash radius, startled. Luckily the cave is well-ventilated, and the smoke spirals up and out the hole in the ceiling, clearing out relatively quickly.
“What happened?” He asks, not bothering to rise from his cushions. His voice may be flat, but his expressive frills broadcast curiosity and concern.
“Ruined! Two weeks’ worth of work ruined!” Liryakys sulks, her fins pressed tight to her head in acute distress. “Kirakira, that wasn't red ooze! What was it?” She asks, alighting on her back and peering around her long neck. Kirakira lifts the jar, her own feathered crest flat with displeasure, a mannerism picked up from Liryakys and Kos as a hatchling. The jar’s label reads Red Ooze, but smelling the remains of the substance- well, it isn't what it says it is.
“Strawberry preserves?” Liryakys asks, sniffing, and then tasting the substance. Sweet, sugary strawberry preserves. That explanations the smell, at least. “Who labeled this batch of components from Baldwin?” She demands, stripping off her lab coat, gloves, and goggles, leaving her mostly clean. Kirakira dumps her mantle, satchels, and goggles in a heap there as well, feathers rising in distress. Kos looks worried, crest rising and falling in increasing concern.
“You think they labeled the wrong shipment?” He guesses, and puts his book aside, lifting into the air. Kirakira nods, well attuned to her parents’ moods, and runs down the hallways to the kitchens, Liryakys holding tight to pale feathers. Kos overtakes them, winging in to the big open space to see Theria, the Skydancer hatchling caretaker, busily making up some snacks for the hatchlings playing around her back paws. She pulls down a jar labeled Orange Marmalade, and Kos freaks out. Baldwin materials can be toxic if imbibed, after all, no matter how many times Liryakys insists that the particular combinations that make the soylent food supplements are safe.
“Stop!” He bellows, much louder than he ever speaks. Thesis shrieks, losing her grip on the jar in surprise. Kos watches, frozen, with his heart in his throat as the full jar falls towards the hatchlings. Then Liryakys flashes past him and snatches it from the air with admirable speed and dexterity, landing on the countertop before unscrewing the lid to take a whiff. Kos can smell it from across the room, and Theria squeaks in protest.
“Orange sludge,” Liryakys pronounces, frills displaying her deep worry. Theria presses her delicate claw to her chest, tail-tip lashing in surprise.
“What do you mean? That's a Baldwin material?” She gasps, looking frantically down at the hatchlings, to ensure she hadn't inadvertently poisoned one. They look innocently back up at her, all present and accounted for.
“Yep! Looks like someone mislabeled a batch of jams and my shipment from Baldwin. Kirakira, Kos, help me gather these up!” She calls with bizarre enthusiasm, fluttering up to open the cabinet with all their canning. Kos and Kirakira obediently start forward, though Kirakira diverts to find a large, empty crate to put them all in.
“Theria, I'll finish up making the snacks. Why done you take the hatchlings back to the nursery?” Kos says kindly, and Theria ushers the curious little ones away. “While you two do this, I'm getting Rathewynd, okay?” He says, and flutters away to do just that as Liryakys starts loading Kirakira’s crate with jars.
Kos finds his clanmate in the library, poring over some ledgers with Ninniach. The Pearlcatcher looks up shortsightedly, shoving copper half-moon spectacles up his snout, copper jewelry jangling pleasantly.
“Visitor for you, I think, Rathewynd.” Ninniach says, and his Skydancer companion glances up as well, removing his own half-moon spectacles.
“Kos, what's the matter? You're downright frantic,” he says mildly, as Ninniach wanders off to go do something else. Kos tries to calm his wingbeats, realizing that he's doing his best impression of a hummingbird.
“There's been a huge mix up, and we need some help.” He says hurriedly. “The newest batch of jam, jelly, and preserves has been labeled for Baldwin materials, and vice versa! We need to round up all the jam so no one ends up poisoned. Though why anyone would actually try to eat something that smells like what dear Liryakys was working on, I don't know.” Rathewynd huffs, rising to his paws. “I have to fetch snacks for the hatchlings- Theria was doing that when we discovered this, and she went back to the nursery to avoid any accidents. Liryakys and Kirakira are clearing the kitchen cabinets.” Kos explains. He's feeling a little more rattled than he realized.
“Do that, then, I'll speak with the Matriarch,” Rathewynd says kindly, as usual, overly formal. Liryakys was the de facto leader of the clan, but Rathewynd handled the day-to-day affairs. The Skydancer frowns. “Does this mean her project was ruined, though? The Matriarch’s, I mean.” Kos bobs his head.
“It exploded all over her and Kirakira. Smelled awful.” He chirps, and Rathewynd sighs.
“I'll have to set aside more funds, then, that was supposed to be a new spinner gene scroll.” He tuts gently, and they proceed back to the kitchens. Kos gets to finishing up the snacks, and Rathewynd goes to find Liryakys.
She and Kirakira have brought their crate of mislabeled materials down to the rotunda, where clan gatherings usually take place. It's half decorated for the upcoming Mistral Jamboree already, Rathewynd’s clanmates have been busy. Currently they're opening and sniffing jars, putting them in two separate piles. Rathewynd supposes it's useful in this instance that all alchemical ingredients tend to stink to high heaven. He's not entirely sure if Liryakys has much of a sense of smell left, but she seems to be able to identify all the jars with ease.
“Do you remember who was assigned to label these batches?” Rathewynd asks. “Also, is this all of the suspect jars?”
“No, I didn't grab the ones in my alchemy chamber yet, these are just the ones from the kitchen. Seems we had a bumper crop of fruit, and someone got ambitious. I'm not sure if anyone's taken anything from the kitchens, I left my materials to be labeled yesterday morning, took them down to the alchemy chamber yesterday night. They aren't all mislabeled, though. This one's sunbeam fig preserves, as advertised. And I think it might have been Roselia?” Liryakys squints, trying to remember. “Anyway, we're going to have to eat all this jam, quickly, before it goes bad. We've had to break the seals, after all.” Rathewynd pulls out his notebook and scribbles some notes, sitting back on his haunches.
“Thank you, Matriarch. I'll grab someone to collect all your alchemy materials and speak with Roselia. And maybe we can eat all the jam at the Mistral Jamboree? We are going to be hosting our sister clan from the Foxfire Bramble, after all. Maybe we can say it's a theme.” Rathewynd muses, scratching his chin with his pen.
“You'll get ink on your face like that.” Liryakys advised. “And I'll have a word with the cooks when we're done here.”
Rathewynd goes on his way, asking the young Spiral Glimmer to report through the whole clan on what had happened, so that no one had any nasty surprises. Glimmer, who had too much energy for his own good, shoots away, caroling about the mishap at the top of his lungs. Rathewynd simply shakes his head at the extreme enthusiasm of youth. He locates the clan warriors next, taking a well-deserved break from fighting, and asks them to clear out Liryakys’s alchemy materials, and bring them to her in the rotunda. Nebula, Tiffie, and Rue all agree quickly, amused by the whole business and clearly bored. Next he goes in search of Roselia. He finds the Coatl with his mate, a Mirror named Aven.
“Terribly sorry to bother you two, but Roselia, were you the one to label the Matriarch’s latest batch of Baldwin materials?” Rathewynd asks politely. Aven shakes his head, busy preening Roselia’s feathers- the Coatl looks half asleep from the attention.
“Hm? No, might have been one of the new younglings. Shunrei, or maybe Wisteria,” Roselia’s dozy response ends in an enormous yawn, and Rathewynd murmurs his thanks and leaves to go find the two he had mentioned.
Shunrei has no idea what he's asking about, but Wisteria mentions he might check in with Montparnasse. The Guardian is always finding new and inventive ways of shirking his duties. If Rathewynd didn't know any better he'd say Montparnasse’s Charge is shirking work, or preserving his free time. Then again, who’s to say it isn't? Rathewynd sighs and looks for the elusive shirker. He's sunning himself on a high ledge, wings spread for maximum warmth absorption. Rathewynd walks delicately to avoid stepping on him.
“Montparnasse,” he says loudly, to wake the other dragon. He's about out of patience with the runaround he's gotten. The Guardian lifts his head, yawning and combing his beard with his talons.
“Rathewynd. What is it now?” He sighs, stretching his back legs, catlike.
“Were you responsible for labeling the Matriarch’s last Baldwin shipment?” He snaps, annoyed with Montparnasse’s attitude. He blinks, and looks a bit shifty.
“Maybe,” he allows, noncommittal. Rathewynd blew out a heavy sigh.
“Yes or no.” He prompts. The Guardian sags.
“Yes, then. Why, what's wrong with it?” Montparnasse asks, irritated.
“Several jars of jam were discovered with Baldwin labels, and vice versa. The Matriarch’s latest project- an expensive one, I might add- was ruined. The hatchlings were nearly poisoned. Rathewynd ticks them off on his claws, irate. Montparnasse stumbles to his feet, eyes gratifyingly big.
“I didn't realize- okay, I might have tried to cut corners, okay? I asked the Nymphs to label them for me, I just got so bored with it!” He confesses. Rathewynd groans. The Ichor Nymph and the Electric Nymph they'd taken in recently are thick as thieves, but not terribly good at things they're asked to do. They, too, are easily bored.
“Very well. I'm relieved your actions were not malicious, and I hope you've learned a bit of a lesson in why you don't do that kind of thing. Now come down to the rotunda and help us get this mess sorted out.” Rathewynd says sternly. Montparnasse agrees with only a brief, wistful glance at his patch of sunshine, and follows Rathewynd obediently away.
