[The Forge, The Abbey] Sugar and Spice, and Evil Cackle!

Anwir has no idea where he is this time. He glances down the path in front of him, slowly turning on his heel to look behind him before facing forward again. Yeah, no. Each time he looks around hoping for that glimmer of recognition he gets absolutely nothing. At this point, he may just ask someone to put a tracker on him so he can sit and wait for rescue the next time he gets lost.

Next time, because he's nearly certain he hears someone's voice just now, words a bit too muffled to make out. Anwir makes a right with far more certainty than he deserves only to slow to a halt. The forge is massive in his opinion and he only thinks to call it a 'forge' due to the anvil and giant pit of fire. The many cauldrons placed around the area make him wonder what exactly could be happening here.

"This place is more impressive every time I come around," Anwir says as he pulls off his glasses, folds them, and tucks them into the pocket of his button-down. He takes a sip of the coffee in his hands as he walks over to one of the cauldron setups, careful not to touch anything as he looks around. His next question addresses the only other soul he sees in the room, the black cat even though he fully does not expect an answer. "If potions are a thing, is alchemy?"

Salem curiously watched as the two first students arrived, following them with his eyes as they came into the room, one after the other. He could not tell much from appearance, but time would tell if they had a knack for potion-making; it did require a certain amount of talent.

"Sure is, but why you'd think one was real and the other not is beyond me," Salem replied without hesitation. "Alchemy and the crafting of potions can largely be traced back to similar roots; the major difference is that Alchemists attempt to purify, mature, and perfect certain materials. Common aims were chrysopoeia, the transmutation of "base metals" like lead into "noble metals, particularly gold. It was also about perfecting the human body and making an elixir of immortality, which all can be tied to the Philosopher's Stone" The cat paused, "But, we are here to teach you how to make potions, not alchemy, even if the two can have similar parts."

He straightened himself slightly.

"I am Salem Saberhagen, your teacher. You may call me Mr. Saberhagen."

Anwir turns to look back the way he came, finding someone he does not recognize. A very small someone. A very pretty, polite, and small someone who also answered his question. He opens his mouth for a moment, looking for words and then opting to smile instead. "No, need to apologize. I wouldn't mind learning another language."

Right. That sounds normal.

"I'm Anwir," he introduces himself, forgetting entirely to offer a handshake. Anwir chuckles a little to himself about to comment on the fact that he did not know there would be any potions class when a 3rd voice speaks up. He has all of a minute to reconcile the fact that the man speaking is a cat before Jun shouts.

A bright flash of light is only blocked out by Anwir's coffee cup, his face scrunching up and turning away from the display. His free hand pulls up his sunglasses, returning them to his face with the vague idea that maybe wearing them inside had not been his worst choice this morning. The glowing visage of Jun chases away any words that may have been trying to build sentences on his tongue.

She stands in a defensive stance between Anwir and the ...house cat, spear in hand. He swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to fight back the urge to tell her just how fucking badass she is. Anwir doesn't feel...distressed despite the clearly very odd circumstances. If anything he feels like he should do something.

"Hey, Jun? I think it's okay," Anwir tries, shifting out from behind his would-be protector and taking a few steps to stand between the cat and warrior. He holds up a placating hand to the woman, trying to apply logic to the situation. "We're in the Abbey. I am sure they have protection from evil spirits. This guy isn't evil. I mean, look at him-"

Anwir takes a second to do just that, gesturing at the desk littered with papers.

"He's clearly a teacher of some sort. No one carries around that much paperwork for the fun of it." His next words are for the magical talking cat. "We're sorry for the disturbance, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Anwir, student of James."

- ”No need to apologize. I wouldn’t mind learning another language. I’m Anwir” - Jun offered a warm smile in greetings. Anwir huh... liar? That is an odd name to give your child. Wait, who was that?

–

Jun’s eyes narrowed on the spirit as it held its ground without reaction, was it waiting for an opportunity? Plotting its escape? - ”Hey, Jun? I think it’s okay.” - Anwir? Jun’s eye’s would not leave her target, but unease grew on her face as her fellow student stepped out from behind her to try and diffuse the situation. She’d hear him out, but Jun would shift away a little to the side to ensure the spirit stayed in full sight.

- ”We’re in the Abbey. I am sure they have protection from evil spirits. This guy isn’t evil. I mean, look at him- He’s clearly a teacher of some sort. No one carries around that much paperwork for the fun of it. We’re sorry for the disturbance, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Anwir, student of James.” - His point was fair, but no wards are unbreachable and evil wears many masks. Bakeneko are cunning, you need not breach a ward if you are let in voluntarily.

- ”I prefer tuna, and as much as I wish I could change my shape, I cannot. I’m stuck as a cat for roughly 45 more years, give or take for good behaviour. The only fire we will need is under your cauldrons; there should be a work area for each of you. I would appreciate if you put that magic away, even if you used that it would not work.” - Suspicion grew on Jun’s face as she weighed the cats words, what did it mean by “it would not work”?

- ”As I was saying, I am Salem Saberhagen, I am not a spirit, I was once a warlock, but got turned into a cat. And I’m Darkwatch’s liaison for when experts on magic are needed among the other groups in society, such as the Justice League” - This cat was Salem? A warlock polymorphed? For at least 45 more years supposedly. After mulling over his words for a moment, Jun relented, partially at least. The glowing aura around her would fade, her spear would lower slightly, and her stance would relax a little.

”Pardon my skepticism. I have had to deal with many bakeneko, conniving man-eaters each.” She’d start, tone wary, eye’s glued to “Salem” just in case he made any sudden moves. As she spoke the blade of her spear would morph, sort of “melting” back unto the haft of crimson light where it coated the last three inches of it in a white aura.

”It would ease my suspicions entirely if you would be willing to touch the end of this staff.” As Jun spoke she’d hold the spear-turned-staff forward, pointing it just adjacent to “Salem” and slowly extending it to within paw’s reach. ”It is cleansing magic, harmless to living beings.” She’d explain. ”I am willing to cook you fresh tuna steak for a week in exchange.” Jun would tack on if Salem was hesitant or initially dismissive, the length of time negotiable, an overt attempt to bribe him. If he touched it, nothing would happen, and she would relent entirely.

Theresa enters the room with her usual commanding presence, her sharp gaze sweeping over the scene. Without missing a beat, she strides to the center of the room, her heels clicking with a measured rhythm. She stops in front of Salem, arms crossed, her expression a perfect blend of curiosity and disapproval.

“Mr. Saberhagen,” she says, her voice calm but firm. Her posh British accent only make her seem all the more aloof. “It seems I’ve walked into quite the spectacle. I leave you unsupervised for five minutes, and we’re already on the verge of a magical duel.”

Her eyes flick to Jun, lingering for a moment. “Good afternoon,” she continues, her tone sharp enough to demand attention without raising her voice. “I am Dr. Theresa Brooks. While your vigilance is commendable, I expect better judgment in recognizing our allies. Deals notwithstanding, I imagine it is rather rude to make demands of that sort, showing your own distrust. It speaks volumes.”

Should Jun comply, Theresa nods once, a signal of approval. She adjusts her glasses and turns to Anwir. “Mr. Anwir, kindly step away from the cauldron. You’ll have plenty of time to tinker under proper supervision.”

She clasps her hands behind her back, her posture straight and unyielding. “Now that we’ve resolved our little misunderstanding,” she says, her voice cool and composed, “shall we focus on the task at hand? Potions require precision, not melodrama. I am here to assist, as well as Audit. Should any of you require notes after the lesson, I am more than willing to share.”

Satisfied, Theresa steps forward to join Salem at the desk. “Let’s proceed, then. No theatrics—at least, not before I’ve had my tea,” she says. She glances at the students, a barely perceptible smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

- ”Nice to meet you, Salem, sir.” - Anwir was awfully relaxed considering the circumstances. Confident that Salem was who he said he was? Confident that she had things handled if her suspicions were proven correct? Unaware of the possible dangers? All of the above perhaps. It would take a little more to relieve her wariness.

–

The clacking of narrow heeled shoes echoed from the steps alerted Jun of another person joining them, though her eyes remained on ‘Salem’. - ”You’ve got a deal!” - Salem’s eager acceptance of her offer, and the lack of hesitation in his paw as he touched the cleansing magic, offered no small amount of relief to Jun. - ”I expect you to uphold your end, no takesies backsis. As you can see, I am a cat, apart from my charm, wit, and speaking ability. I know a few Bakeneko that sometimes turn up on local cat shindigs. There’s no danger... to cats, that is.” -

”I promise it.” Jun would answer with a grateful smile as her staff dissipated entirely, her tone carrying the weight of one who truly values their word, at the same time a woman in her thirties(?) joined them with arms crossed surveying the situation with a curious but clearly disapproving gaze. She didn’t have time to dwell on what on Earth a ‘cat shindig’ is or that he’s met Bakeneko at them before the new addition spoke up.

- ”Mr. Saberhagen. It seems I’ve walked into quite the spectacle. I leave you unsupervised for five minutes, and we’re already on the verge of a magical duel.” - Where is that accent from? Unsupervised? Wasn’t he the teacher for this class? - Good afternoon, I am Doctor Theresa Brooks. While your vigilance is commendable, I expect better judgment in recognizing our allies. Deals notwithstanding, I imagine it is rather rude to make demands of that sort, showing your own distrust. It speaks volumes.” - Being rude is a small price to pay for ensuring their safety, but Jun could not hold it against her. She doubted Theresa has had the misfortune of fending off the puppeted corpse of a child as a Bakeneko’s disguise is broken in front of the child’s parents.

”I-” - ”Doctor Brooks.” - Salem’s response interrupted Jun, possibly for the best. - ”Yes-- I did not plan to be mistaken for a creature from myth but suppose I should be flattered or perhaps insulted. I have not decided which yet. But, I am only too happy to prove that my conscious is... relatively clean, perhaps not white, but at least an off-white, cornsilk white, or eggshell.” - A great deal of respect grew behind Jun’s eye’s as she listened to Salem speak, perhaps he deserved more than a week’s worth. A recurring meal at least. - ”Yeah, eggshell...” -

Theresa seemed to accept that response, shifting her attention to Anwir who seemed to be looking over the station nearest Salem. - ”Mr. Anwir, kindly step away from the cauldron. You’ll have plenty of time to tinker under proper supervision.” - More talk of supervision, was she here to make up for Salem’s limitations of a cat body? - ”Now that we’ve resolved our little misunderstanding, shall we focus on the task at hand? Potions require precision, not melodrama. I am here to assist, as well as Audit. Should any of you require notes after the lesson, I am more than willing to share.” - That answers that question.

- ”Let’s proceed, then. No theatrics--at least, not before I’ve had my tea.” - Wait, was that a smirk? Curious. - ”So-- You’re here because you wish to learn the art of potions. There are many ways one can create potions. I prefer the traditional use of a cauldron, but you can also make it on the stove in a skillet or saucepan using whatever is at hand in any everyday kitchen. Today, you’re the first potion to make a standard antidote because that will help if you accidentally fall victim to other potions or ingredients. Such as that liquid in those blue bottles, do NOT drink it.” -

Jun listened along attentively, looking towards the station Salem gestured towards in search of the blue bottles he mentioned. Would someone really just drink a random ingredient? - ”It is concentrated Alpenländische Ehe Jungfrau Giftungsblome, Alpine Marriage Maiden Poison Blome, or the Wedding Poison Flower. It was used in the olden days in the Alps to make young men and women more willing to accept the idea of marriage. If you ingest it, you will be overcome by a desperate urge to marry, it is one of the most insidious form of poisons, because if the victim is not given one of two things, antidote, or a marriage... they will waste away and die.” -

Jun cocked her head curiously as Salem explained. What an odd poison, did it affect those who were already married? Did they have to stay married? Seems like such a terrible risk for something that could be undone after. Perhaps it wasn’t so easy to undo in that culture? - ”But these days, they are used sparingly and heavily diluted when washing socks due to the excellent smell. In any case, on the workbench in front of you is a parchment with instructions; you may open and read them and check to ensure all needed ingredients are present. One of the worst things for any potioneer is noticing you lack something at a critical stage. That’s how you turn a healing potion into a burping hallucinogenic gas potion.” -

At this Jun would offer a polite bow of acknowledgement and look about for the nearest station before setting forth to follow Salem’s recommendation. Once there she’d read the instructions with care, holding her place with her left index while she searched the work station for the described ingredient, and keeping one place with her left pinky as continued past one that she could not immediately find. With the rest of the list accounted for, she’d double and triple check her station to ensure she hadn’t missed the missing one, before turning to address Salem. ”Sensei, I seem to be missing an ingredient, is there storage I might grab it from? I would rather not deprive another station.” Jun would inquire politely, if another person joined them she did not want their station to be shorted as well.