* OPEN * Test subjects wanted! (Graded)

[Tristan Venora]

Zi’da 40, Arc 719

“I think I’ve reached a dead end in my research”, Tristan informed his bodyguard Brandon who was playing the part of his assistant that trial and stirring the mixture in the cauldron in front of them. It was green and bubbling in a most suspicious manner. It smelled pleasant though, like chocolate – because that was what Tristan had added to it in order to improve its taste. He didn’t think that anybody would buy a potion that tasted like spinal fluid (the spinal fluid of the Nafinju was a reagent that he regularly used in his potions because it was a near-perfect accelerator).

“Why’s that, sir?” Brandon inquired. The brown-haired human stopped stirring for a moment in order to look at his employer before he proceeded to stir even harder, as if the potion in progress was his enemy and he wanted to kill it with the large wooden spoon in his hand. “Your anti-winter potion and the burning ice were a great success. I wouldn’t be surprised if the government asked you to become a citizen before long – and one of those lords asked you to marry one of his children."

“I need a greater variety of test subjects”, Tristan explained, grabbed a vial from a nearby table, uncorked it and poured its contents into the cauldron. The potion suddenly started to sizzle like crazy. “So far, I’ve never tested my potions on anybody but myself before I started to sell them. I mean, the anti-winter potion works just fine, but what if my other potions don’t? Maybe the cat-speak potion I made doesn’t work on Sev’ryn, for example, or makes Eidisi sick or gives them a terrible allergic reaction!”

“I think I’ll post an ad”, he decided just as a loud “boom” rang through the kitchen (even though the house Tristan had acquired in Melrath had come with a small laboratory, he still preferred to practice alchemy the way he used to). A moment later, the potion started to smoke, and Tristan smiled brightly. “I think it’s done”, he informed Brandon. “We just need to wait for the potion to cool down now, and then we can fill it into the vials. If everything went well, this potion should give you some immunity to alcohol so that you can drink more without getting drunk. I miss getting drunk!”

He sighed.

He’d pretty much given up on alcohol when he’d become a father because he wanted to set a good example, but he’d started to miss sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass (or a bottle) of wine in his hand so much that he’d tried to come up with a way to drink wine without actually getting drunk. His potion contained a number of rather strange ingredients …

~~~

The following trial, a message appeared on the local noticeboards and in the local newspapers:

Duke Tristan Venora, the inventor of the famous anti-winter potion is looking for people that are willing to try out his cat-speak potion as well as a number of other potions. Have you always wanted to know what cats talk about and if those rumours about world domination and cats hating dogs are true? Now is your chance to find out!

The cat-speak potion enables you to talk to and understand cats!

Anybody who decides to volunteer will be paid with a vial of anti-winter potion! If you drink the anti-winter potion, you’ll never be cold again!

The ad contained directions to a house in the Alfar Hold in Raelia where the wealthier residents lived – a house that seemed to be surrounded by a faint, pleasant smell of chocolate, as if it were a bakery rather than the residence of Melrath’s newest alchemist and mad scientist in training …

[Zihaqihs]

She wanted a different form.

Zih had chosen this one without truly thinking of what would happen when she stole it but now...now she wasn't so sure. She kept to herself enough that no one had mentioned anything to her or called her by a name she didn't recognize but that didn't stop the urgency that told her to keep this form was to court disaster. Being anything strange in Melrath at the present time was to ask for trouble, if she were honest with herself, and she debated the attempt of an animal form but without a mentor she wasn't sure where to start. How did one learn about an animal enough to pretend to be one? Idly these thoughts ran through her mind, her long hair a loose mess down her back. It would need to be cut so she didn't have to mind it but the more pressing matter of hiding behind it also held an appeal. None of mattered though. In the cold seasons what animals could she even take the form of? A snow bunny? A rare smile crossed her lips as the sound of conversation drifted to ears at the thought.

"Anti-weather was useful but who cares what an animal thinks." Zih found her walk slowing as subtly as possible in order to catch the rest of the conversation though she did not lift her face from the ground.

"He should put his talents to more useful pursuits."

"And how could we even trust him? Have you seen what the Outlanders have caused?"

Unconsciously the Yludih tensed, as if they were speaking of her, her feet attempting to hurry her body away but the rock hidden in the snow laughed with delight and sent her sprawling to the ground, her palms stinging violently. Though she didn't make a sound the owners of the voices she had been listening in on hurried to help her up while Zih struggled not to flinch away from the touch. What if they felt to her stones? What if her markings looked fake? Too many what ifs as righted herself then forced herself to back up as smoothly as possible.

"Are you alright?"

She coughed lightly. "Yes...an-and thank you."

There was a slightly awkward pause where Zih was unsure of how to exit without being rude and they seemed to want to speak further before one mentioned about the time gracefully enough that she was free from farther conversation. Yet she couldn't help but think they'd given her the out on purpose. Was she really so easily read? The usual worrisome frown puckered at her brows as she inspected the clothes for damage. She'd made a fool of herself trying to play spy but at least now she could see what they were talking about in peace, her curiosity piqued.

An anti-weather drought might help with some of the more insidious cold ailments but what if it only made you feel warm? It could be dangerous but the want to know more made her read the note swiftly but strangely it hardly spoke of the drink save for a passing reference. What it was truly about was--

"A cat!" Her hands fluttered in excitement, the sound of her voice surprising even herself.

But this was perfect! And far too lucky. What if they remembered testing her? Or what if people asked about their cats? Though she also was highly skeptical of the results. How was this man even sure that cats spoke at all? But even as her caution made her heart hurt with it's speed, her legs carried her in the directions left on the notice. Bad luck it would likely bring, if she could talk to cats her animal form could almost be assured! And a simple cat would be able to blend in everywhere, free food, lodgings, no clothes. As safe and hidden as she was normally in her Mer form.

Or she could die.

The abrupt thought made her bang far harder on the door than intended, jumping at the sound that reverberated back with wide eyes. Now even if it was a bad idea, in the quiet of the day, with no one else that she'd seen so far there would be no way to escape without notice. Cringing inwardly though she tried to smile outwardly, a feeling of doom settled around her heart tight enough to strangle.

Current form

Like the above but without the fancy clothes or hair decorations.

Credit Free to Use Templates

[Tristan Venora]

“Brandon, where are the ginger tea and the apple cider vinegar?” Tristan yelled and looked around the kitchen. The first test subjects would probably arrive soon, and he was starting to panic because they were nowhere near ready. Since he wasn’t sure if every race would tolerate his potions, he’d gotten some medicine as well as a few popular home remedies (ginger to reduce nausea, and apple cider vinegar to alleviate the symptoms of food poisoning), just in case.

“On second thought, let’s leave them where they are”, he decided. The test subjects might change their mind if the first thing they saw was anti-nausea stuff and doubt his skill as an alchemist, he realized. “Just help me get the pastries and the cookies ready!” he asked him and carried a tray full of delicious baked goods into the living room where most of the testing would take place.

His grandmother had taught him that it was important to always treat your guests well, no matter who they were, and in his opinion, treating them well meant serving them food.

“Where are Ayla, Hannah and Lianne?” he asked as he set the tray down. “And where on Idalos is Mistral? It’s impossible to tell if a cat-speak potion works without a cat!”

“Hannah is in the bathroom, getting ready, and Lianne and your daughter are in your daughter’s room, sir”, Brandon said. “As for your cat …” He shrugged his shoulders somewhat helplessly before he spotted something black with malicious sulphur-yellow eyes on one of the bookshelves. “Ah, there he is! I wonder what he’ll think of today’s activities …”

“He’ll probably enjoy them”, Tristan replied and looked at his cat. “Mistral quite likes being the centre of attention. Isn’t that the case, Mistral?” he asked. Mistral only hissed at him.

Since Mistral didn’t seem to be interested in talking to him at the moment, Tristan turned to inspect his reflection in the mirror to make sure that he looked presentable. He was wearing a bright blue suit with a hint of silver that matched the runic markings on the left side of his face and neck. As far as he was concerned, he looked absolutely perfect!

It was just then that Tristan heard a knock on the door. He froze for a moment, and then he smiled all over the face and hurried towards the door before Brandon could stop him and inform him that it was his job to welcome visitors (and make sure that they didn’t pose a threat).

“Yes?” Tristan asked and looked at Zih expectantly. She looked nice – and pretty, he decided. “Are you a volunteer? Please say that you are – and that you want to try out the cat-speak potion and none of my other creations. Anyway, come in! Do you want to eat anyting before we begin? Oh, and what’s your name? I’m Tristan, of course!”

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m an Outlander”, he added, remembering that those people could be fairly xenophobic.

[Zihaqihs]

Zih wasn't sure what she expected. She was entirely sure she hadn't expected anything at all but her mind had apparently formed a picture of an older, esteemed practitioner of some sorts. Certainly not this man in front of her, with his doe eyes, longish hair, and fine features. He looked more like a noble than a working member of society. At least, not any working member she'd ever seen. It stunned to her to see such that for a moment the words she had been swiftly rehearsing died in her throat. Smothered entirely and buried next by his barrage of chatter. Early it had occurred to her to flee, and now she was almost sure but she was also already there. With a very quiet sigh, she released her lip from it's tooth prison and attempted to respond to whatever it was he'd just said.

"I..." the word trailed off, uncertain and paired with a furrowing of her brow, "yes."

The word dragged out strangely as she began to following him in, her eyes wandering around the room they entered with some akin to horror. How would she leave swiftly if the need called for it? This wasn't her house, this was a strangers house! The Yludih had never entered the personal abode of, well, anyone. Renting rooms was entirely different than going into a place that might be booby trapped or some sort of hovel that could somehow give her away. Far from being worried about his Outlander status, she was worried he might catch onto hers. How would she explain herself? It was only the finality of the door shutting that froze the thoughts, and made the woman realize she had yet to respond to anything else.

"Q-quin. My name is Qin." She began awkwardly. Her body was held stiff, afraid to touch things that weren't hers and unsure of what the proper etiquette was for being in someones house. She wasn't particularly hungry but it might be rude to refuse food. Hesitantly she eyes the kitchen and nodded, "A-I-maybe a b-bite?"

She paused again, unsure if she should enter the kitchen or wait or if a native would even eat an Outlanders food. Had she already made a misstep? Should she tell him something about his status? Ignore it? There were too many variables here that she was no longer sure it would be worth it to even try and gain a cat form. Her legs twitched, urging her to the door when a streak of black passed by. Even if she had been less nervous Zih could not have held in the shriek that slipped past her lips as she jumped almost straight into the air. For a moment her fight or flight kicked in to where she almost ran to the door, out, and never looked back. Instead she was frozen more than the Melrathi lands, staring at the creature watching her from the bookshelf.

"Cat! It ran-I-" The Yludih clicked her teeth shut then stared wide-eyed at the young man who was supposedly in charge, "It will-it will talk to me?"

Credit Free to Use Templates

[Tristan Venora]

“Fantastic!“ Tristan exclaimed as Zih confirmed that she was indeed here to volunteer and smiled brightly. “Do you like cats?” he asked her as he led her through the house and into the living room. Zih could see that it was a nice house. While Tristan was by no means the richest man in Melrath, he was quite well off. The furniture was made of light-coloured wood, for the most part, and obviously expensive, but wasn’t gaudy or flashy. Instead, the house looked comfortable and nice – apart from the sculptures, maybe.

Everywhere in the house were sculptures. The most noticeable one stood in the living room next to the fireplace where a fire roared. It was … well, it seemed to be a sculpture of some sort of monstrous, two-headed hound that had reins with golden tassels on. Two half-naked people, a man and a woman, sat on the hound’s back. The sculpture looked weird, and a bit scary, but it had obviously been created by a sculptor of extraordinary skill.

“Feel free to take a seat, Qin”, Tristan said and gestured towards the sofa in front of the fireplace. “Where does your name come from, by the way? It reminds me of my brother’s boyfriend’s name. His name was Quio, and he was an Yludih which I thought was really awesome. I don’t think they are together anymore though”, he said and shrugged his shoulders before he pointed at the incredibly delicious looking pastries on the table. “Feel free to take whatever you like. There’s more in the kitchen!”

As Zih let out a shriek, Tristan instantly froze, and then he looked around in panic, wondering if somebody had decided to come and kill him because he was an Outlander or if the necromancers that Faith had gone to war with had finally decided to target him. He was Faith’s former owner after all and her friend. After a moment, he noticed the cat and breathed a huge sigh of relief.

“That’s a cat”, he confirmed. “That’s my cat, in fact. His name is Mistral, and he may look like an ordinary house cat, but I assure you that he isn’t. He originally comes from the Misty Miasma where cats walk on two legs and have villages and such. That’s where I also got the ingredients for the cat-speak potion from. Mistral will definitely talk to you – if you drink the potion. Do you want to drink the potion?” he asked, hoping that she’d say yes because he was really itching to start the experiment.

“Oh”, he said and grabbed a pastry for himself before he asked, “Do you have any allergies that I should be aware of, by the way? The main ingredient of my potion is a type of fern. I hope you understand that I can’t tell you which one. I don’t want anybody to copy my potion. If you are allergic to ferns, you’ll have to take some medicine beforehand so that you don’t get a reaction”, he told her in a matter-of-fact tone.

He felt quite proud of himself for a moment because he’d sounded almost like some sort of doctor - until he realized that he had no idea what kind of medicine you used to combat allergies. Maybe he could ask his bodyguard Hannah? She suffered from terrible hay fever!

[Zihaqihs]

He talked too much.

And far too fast for her goose-pimpled feelings. She couldn't tell if this was friendliness or if the man was trying to interrogate her, her parents always did warn about smoother talkers. Still, she had to act as if this was all fine but the Yludih was frozen, watching dumbly as he moved with ease in his own abode. When had she ever gone to a house? One so filled with things far out of her means or one that had...well, things! She'd grown up with the necessities, sculptures and knick knacks were pointless and hard to move in emergencies. It was impossible to tell what the proper move was aside from struggling to keep up and answer his questions as smoothly as possible.

"I-yes. Cats." It came out with a sudden jerk as she sat, unsure of what else to say. "They are--what."

She hadn't meant to say it but as he chattered, so casually speaking of her kind, the shrill word slipped out. Her eyes wide enough to fall out of their sockets and her feet instantly pointing towards the only real exit. Should she run? Was this all a con? Had the Melrathi people and everyone known from the beginning and now just wanted to catch her out? Zih had never been in this situation, those who knew of hers didn't speak of them with such candor, and those who didn't never said a word at all. No one, ever, ever had come close to calling her a Yludih, let alone asking. The worms in her stomach crawled to her throat and choked her, the pain bringing tears to her eyes as her hands fisted in her clothes. In an effort to stem the flow she bite her lip hard enough to create the illusion of blood but the tears still traitorously slipped free.

A darkness was swirling on the edge of her vision, one so deep it threatened to hold her under until she was no more. A sensation she hadn't felt since the last of her entire world had died. All she had wanted was to try and hide as a cat. Was she not even allowed to have that? Was she so bad? Whatever words she tried to get out came out in little gasps, pain growing in the back of her neck and creeping into her skull, throbbing steadily with every beat of her heart. A heart racing so fast it might as well not be moving at all. Anything else he said was white nose as the Yludih tried to regain some semblance of balance or center herself but all that ran through her head was--

I'm going to disappear like mom.

Credit Free to Use Templates

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan tried really hard to be nice to Zih and make sure that she would be comfortable in his home. He tried to be a good host, he tried to be professional, like he imagined a real alchemist would be, but nothing he did seemed to have the intended effect. When he talked about his brother’s boyfriend and the Misty Miasma, the young woman’s eyes widened so much that they threatened to drop out of their sockets, and she seemed to be ready to run right back to where she had come from. A moment later, she started to cry.

For a moment, all that Tristan could do was stare at her dumbfoundedly because nothing about what was happening made any sense to him. When she started to gasp, he abruptly sprang into action and rushed to her side though. It looked as if she were choking! Why was she choking? He had been so busy wondering if she was allergic to ferns that he hadn’t considered that she might be allergic to nuts and such! One of the pastries contained nuts!

He was about to desperately call for help because he had no idea how he was supposed to treat an anaphylactic reaction, when he remembered that she hadn’t actually eaten a pastry yet. He breathed a huge sigh of relief – before he wondered why she still didn’t seem to be able to breathe properly. Maybe it was some sort of rapid-onset pneumonia – or maybe all that talk about the Misty Miasma had provoked an asthma attack?

Unless she was suffering a heart-attack because the Sessfiend sculpture had scared her so much?

“Please calm down, Miss Qin”, he pleaded, tried to put an arm around her and lead her to the sofa so that she would be able to lie down. “I’ll stop talking about bipedal cats, and I’ll even hide that sculpture if you want me to. I had no idea that you might be afraid of it. You don’t have to eat any of my pastries either. Just tell me what is wrong with you, please! Does it hurt to breathe? Do you have pain in your chest?”

Concern was written all over the young Outlander’s face. Immortals, where was Faith when he needed her?

He was completely out of his element!

“I think she’s having a panic attack”, Brandon who just entered the room, carrying a tray with a vial of cat-speak potion remarked. “My sister used to have panic attacks. They look scary, but they are largely harmless. Breathing into a paper bag might help. Wait, sir. I’ll get one.” He set the tray down on the table, raced into the kitchen and returned a moment later, a brown paper bag in one hand.

Tristan eyed the paper bag for a couple of trills as if he didn’t trust it entirely before he handed it to Zih. “Here. This should help”, he told her. “Breathing into this bag should relieve your symptoms and make you feel better! I’m sorry if I talked too much, by the way. I’ll stop now, I promise!”

[Zihaqihs]

Zih didn't even like cats.

It wasn't like she actively hated them but they seemed to know what she was or she was projecting every time their curious eyes followed her. Conveniently she'd chosen to ignore this fact in favor of potentially gaining an animal form, one she could communicate in naturally, unlike other forms where she would be required to learn a language to not be found out instantly. To make things worst she'd found probably one of the few people who knew exactly what she was but didn't know she was one. Maybe. As the Yludih gratefully took the bag she listened to the man babble about things she'd hardly noticed in her own fear but would likely give her enough of an excuse for her idiocy. She'd never done something so foolish as this, and breathing through the bag was beginning to clear her mind and show her precisely where she'd nearly ruined everything. Of course, this knowledge did not stop the nagging fear or the way her body tilted naturally towards the exit. But considering everything was up in proverbial flames, she managed to try something like a smile as she put down the bag.

"Just..." The word dragged strangely from her tongue then she tried again. "N-nerves. Just nerves. If-if you have Valerian root? It helps then I c-could maybe, um, drink the cat...medicine."

The Yludih trailed off as she stared at the man. She was unsure if he would want to continue or how to herself, he seemed genuinely concerned but he also could have laced the bag with something. She needed to be more careful. Yet...her eyes roved back to the cat, imagining the odd creature on it's back legs. As unnatural as she was no doubt. And just as unbelievable. With great care she tried to hide her shivers then made to nibble at the pastry, recalling that sugar was helpful with her as she looked everywhere but at the two house occupants in her nervousness. Zih tried to think on how she called it medicine before but her brain was sluggish to catch up, foot tapping with growing frequency as she tried to put together some semblance of a conversation.

"How--how will it work?" She flushed recalling his words from before. "It's f-fine if you talk."

Truthfully she hated small talk, chatter, and people like him who were...sociable, accomplished, well-known. People who were people watched. But she was a native, an almost friendly native, who volunteered so now she had to talk. Or maybe she didn't? How many friendly natives had she actually met? Hopefully none. But now she had used all the words she could. Even Zih wanted to, and she very much didn't, there was nothing left for her to speak on. Her body was tired and her mind had done all if could to get out the bits she had. Instead she refused to make eye contact and picked at the pastry like it held the secrets of Idalos in it's fluffy crust.

Credit Free to Use Templates

[Tristan Venora]

When Zih insisted that it had just been her nerves, Tristan was incredibly relieved. A part of him had kept on wondering if she suffered from a serious and life-threatening medical condition, despite Brandon’s claim that she was just having a panic attack. A moment later, he started to worry again though – for a different reason. “I’ve never met someone who suffered a panic attack because they were looking at one of my sculptures or because they were about to try one of my potions. What I do is not that scary, is it?”

He momentarily looked at Brandon as he said that. The young man was wise enough not to say anything. He just rolled his eyes a bit before he abruptly offered, “I’ll go and get the Valerian root for Miss Qin.” Having said that, Brandon disappeared into the kitchen again.

“Thank you, Brandon”, Tristan remarked and sat down opposite of Zih. He was feeling a bit faint as well after witnessing her panic attack, besides, he preferred to talk while he was sitting down. It was much more comfortable. “So”, he murmured and scratched his head a bit as he wondered how he was supposed to explain his potion to her, without scaring her again or confusing her because the reagents were just so complicated and weird.

“You just drink the potion, more or less”, he finally informed her, having decided not to mention what else the potion contained, apart from fern, fern and more fern. “You will probably feel woozy for a few bits, due to your brain adjusting to what’s happening. If everything goes as planned, Mistral’s meows will then slowly start to sound like Common. I’m not sure why they sound Common though”, he admitted.

“Maybe it has something to do with Common being my native language. I should probably find a Rakahi or Xanthea native speaker next in order to test my theory”, he murmured. It was just then that something occurred to him – something that could seriously threaten the success of his experiment. He abruptly looked at Mistral.

“You will meow, right, Mistral?” he asked. As if on cue, Mistral meowed. Since he hadn’t drunk any cat-speak potion himself so far, Tristan couldn’t tell if it had been a “yes” or a “no”. He decided to assume the latter though as he was generally an optimistic man, besides, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if his cat decided not to cooperate, for now.

“Anyway”, he remarked, took the Valerian root that Brandon had just brought and handed it to Zih. “I hope this here helps. You can just drink the cat-speak potion whenever you feel you are ready. I don’t want to pressure you. Thank you for being fine with my talking, by the way”, he added. He was quite relieved that she didn’t seem to mind after all – because he found it really hard to keep quiet. He just loved talking too much!

[Zihaqihs]

The Yludih almost regretted telling him he could talk.

Living alone and with her quiet father most of her life, this was the longest conversation she could ever recall having, if it could be called that. Still she tried to follow along with attention even as her mind was still scrambled from it's earlier shut down. Nothing about this man was truly screaming threat...aside from drowning her in chatter. Though when he mentioned the ferns, her brows began their perpetual pucker, "A-a fern? They are goo-nic-they have many uses."

Ferns were hardly killer herbs when she considered what little she knew of them. Good for curing and causing stomach issues, bleeding, and coughs all found it uses with ferns but for speaking another language? The very idea was outside of what she new. When Zih had called it medicine earlier that had been something of a misnomer it seemed but she eyed the bottle for a few moments longer, letting his words wash over her. Without mind, and soft thanks she took the root, chewing it and letting the bitter taste coat her tongue and throat. Once more her gaze roved around the room then landed on the cat.

While she had chewed the chatter of the potion maker was almost soothing, background noise to the valerian root easing her mood forcibly until the tapping in her feet slowed as she watched the cat watching her. It was nothing like the ones at the stall but also like every blasted cat she'd ever met. If she was to embody one the simple way would be to be as annoying as possible. And if she died from drinking it, she doubted it would matter. It would matter but maybe that was better than the constant nagging of her own mind. With little of her normal second thoughts the Yludih grabbed the bottle and downed it in one go, a cough making it's way out before a wave of nausea hit her hard enough to make her flop onto the table, head hitting it with force enough to bruise.

"That was dis-dis-disgusting." She moaned quietly as the table beneath her eyes crossed then blurred. The feeling felt like it would never let go, herbs to induce vomiting flitting through her head as if the thought alone would quell the urge. But as quickly as it came it passed, and she finally lifted her head, looking everywhere but at Tristan. Once more her gaze landing on the black cat though her question was not directed at it, "What now? Do I say h-hello? Do cats kno-unde-know what we say t-too?"

Questions she probably should have asked sooner but now was a moot point, even more so if it didn't work. But even as she thought it she hoped it would, so she could at least asked the cat why cats were...well, cats.

Credit Free to Use Templates