Word Count » 240
There was, without a doubt, a simplistic elegance in his lack of décor. He found Arab style too stuffy, and even Egyptian artwork tended to irritate him—it reminded him too much of his family. By having less he was free to avoid clutter aside from his own, which compared to some of the clan, was defined by his current “mess” of evenly lined out dried plants and other materials needed to be prepared.
The dark man seemed to attempt to ease his sister. Enkiel pulled a few jars from the shelves, noting that the supplies were shrinking yet. More training and more attacks had meant his wares were stretched thin; he made a note to gather more plants for the Greenhouse come summer. Fine, long fingers pulled out varying amounts of plants. Feverfew, rosemary, thyme, witch hazel…and a generous amount of opium were all mixed into a bowl. The water, while not boiling, was hot enough for his purposes.
Enkiel waited until the color had darkened slightly, and then turned to hand her the bowl. “Drink this. It will help you relax.” Though not enough to knock her unconscious, it would make her extremely less lucid and unable to tense when he went through the process. “I will begin when you have finished.” This was not the whole truth; he would only hold her arm and test it until her muscles went lax—then the true work would commence.
@import url(http://bloodandfire.sleepyglow.net/publ ... s/enky.css);
</style>
[/html]