He fingered his decanters and flasks, debating on if he should pack the contents up now or wait for a few more days after the papers made their way to Iain and even out to the mainland.  He rubbed the back of his neck, uncertain. He finally decided to put away a few of his less used medicines, counting on the holiday to keep from interrupting him. Then he spotted the small hatchet left unattended in the corner under his bench.  He slipped it into the back of his belt under his waistcoat tails.

He took from his stores a fine powder that he had come into possession of on the mainland shortly before sailing to the isle.  He retrieved from another drawer of his cabinet a small, long metal trough and a thin blade that meshed together to make an ancient style of mortar and pestle.  He spent many minutes finely grinding down the already fine powder. He knocked the powder into a pouch and added a small bowl and vial of clear liquid to another. Lastly, he added to the mortar and pestle a few berry sized red rocks that produced a muddy yellow powder once ground.  This too was added to one more palm sized pouch. These all made their way into his bag at his waist.

Tonight would be his release from his induced hellish prison.  He had to be ready to flee if everything went wrong. He needed to leave enough out though that if someone came to the residence, they would not suspect Eoin of plots.  He rolled his three parchments together and stuffed them into a cylindrical holder. He slipped the ornate tube into one of his pouches.

Fearchar and Seonaid eventually emerged from their room, significantly later than usual.  Their guest remained content to mess with his various glass and wood containers. They eased back into their regular routine for an off day, making breakfast for themselves.  Eoin never ate with them, he refused to remove his mask. Seonaid, once their fast was broken, cleaned the plates while Fearchar finished his tiny jackdaw bird.

Eoin kept himself busy with a pair of small glass tubes, slowly diluting a tiny spoonful of powder into boiling water.

French Country Rooster Christmas Throw Pillow

I am a writer and artist working through the Kavordian Library series. I write sci-fi, fantasy, lgbt romance.

2 Comment on “Seething Storr: Page 35

  1. Pingback: Seething Storr: Page 36 | Kavordian Library

  2. Pingback: Seething Storr: Page 34 | Kavordian Library

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