Smallergod
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Nothing Could Go Wrong p1
🕑 Added 2021-05-26 04:32:27 +0000 UTCHey there! Sorry for the late post. I haven't forgotten to finish the sequence with Flow, I promise. I've just been having trouble with drawing at all with the recent mental breakdown and I had some setbacks about a week ago that have brought back all manner of unpleasant symptoms. None-the-less I'm happy to report that I've finished a sequence and story for patreon this month, and I hope you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed making it <3
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It was a commission that drew Jenny from her slumber earlier than usual that morning. It wasn't especially rare for the witch to be commissioned to create something tailored to the desires of a client, but it did require a certain amount of preparation and that meant an early start. Sliding out of bed she sleepily donned her comfy robes (the kind of witching outfit you could wear on a day to day basis, not like the more stuffy, ceremonial type robes) and trod downstairs towards her makeshift library. Jenny's inner voice scolded her a moment for skipping breakfast as she perused the solitary bookshelf she had filled with magical tomes, but it was a scolding she had endured before and honestly, who has the appetite for breakfast anyway?
The commission was to create a 'cotton candy flavoured tea' – nothing especially exotic, or even magical about the request. She didn't have to brew a potion to bewitch mortal minds or draw love forth from an aching heart or any of the other things one might think of when they think about the work of a witch. But in truth, nobody really came to her asking for any of that kind of thing anyway. Her most frequent clients were those with chronic pain or mental conditions which had proved resilient to other kinds of medication. Jenny had become adept at brewing potions to calm the mind or cool a tender muscle, so this commission was an almost exciting departure from the norm.
It took a few minutes but with a satisfied nod, she found the book she had been looking for. “Ten By Twelve Dazzling Culinary Delights With Alchemy”. She remembered browsing it in a dingy little antique store and picking it up on account of the obvious magical practices within. The tome was a little frayed around the edges, gaudy with gold inlaid text for the title, but hopefully workable. She placed it down on a small dining table beneath the morning light of her kitchen window, before grabbing a breakfast bar to chew on as she studied the text. The hardest part of any commission was the preparation, and smooshed together lightly flavoured oats of her breakfast bar did little to ease the pain of mentally translating the archaic text. But it was there, between the pages of the gaudy little tome which praised itself for mixing both the culinary and alchemist arts, that she would find her recipe – a means of mixing both the unique flavour of fairy floss with the subtle delivery of tea.
“Cinnamon Roll Juice” the recipe was written in broad text atop the page – this was what she was looking for. A method of transcribing the taste of one substance into the delivery of another. A pink clawed finger traced the list of ingredients, magical and mundane as well as the required incantations. It would be easy to substitute cinnamon rolls for fairy floss, and tea is basically juice, if you think about it. She was confident she could make this work. Definitely easy.
Nothing could go wrong.
