Quoted By:
>Handicraft
You tilt your head up and squint. "What do you think I should do, snakey?"
The snake remains unhelpful. Ah well. As much as you'd like to stay lying down, the longer you do, the worse it'll be to get up later. Sitting up's a good compromise, and Henry has just suggested an excellent seated activity. An effigy! It sounds rather sinister, doesn't it? Like something to place curses on. If Henry wanted to curse you, though, he's had you where he wanted you multiple times, so it wouldn't make sense to wait this long. Also, you don't know if curses are real. (You'd like them to be, but surely you would've seen one by now.)
Maybe you better assume that it's exactly what Henry says it is— an esoteric means of travel. You don't have any need to visit the cult right now, but the future's wide open, and it couldn't hurt to have the option. Yes. A logical reason for working on this right now. Nothing to do with liking to play with clay. It's logical, and it's useful, and...
Oh, who cares? Who are you defending yourself from, the snake? You like playing with clay, and you like sitting down even more, and anything that gives you an excuse for both is fair game. What was the last thing you made, the model of your manse? Was that last week? Too long. You used to be doing this almost every day, any time Richard wasn't making you slog around Crown-hunting. Or any time you weren't drunk. It's not easy to sculpt drunk.
Good thing you're sober. More than sober. Advanced Sober. Sober-Plus. Your hearing is sensitive, and your vision acute, and your mind exquisitely tuned to every motion you make— meaning every motion generates pain, but it's fine. It's fine. Medicine soon. Clay now.
You plop down unsteadily in your chair and scavenge out your supplies: the effigy, the hulking block of clay, your pocketknife (once essential; after the rescue of The Sword, sadly neglected), your cutting wire, the hook and the needle, Henry's letter— in case you missed something. Actually, after a re-review, you stand and grab an empty bowl off your desk's top shelf. Mix blood in with the clay, Henry said, and you'll need somewhere to put it.
Mix a "healthy amount" of blood in. What constitutes a healthy amount? You have the bad feeling it's more than a couple drops, especially since Richard watered your blood all down. A teaspoon? A tablespoon? As much as the clay will hold? You guess you'll try for the last of those and stop sooner if you feel faint. Gosh. What should you cut? You don't to bleed out. Your palm, maybe? Your left palm, the one you don't use. That works. The Sword's a little unwieldy for making little cuts, so you'll try the pocketknife. Shut your eyes, Lottie, and hold your hand against the bowl, and—
(1/5)
