Potions Class (Not Really)

Listen may have signed up for the class, but mixing brightly coloured liquids together in order to create a new substance is exactly up Elucid’s alley. The moment the class made its way into collective consciousness, nothing could stop the host from taking over to participate.

Here he stands, behind a bar, in some skimpy bartender’s outfit. He thinks the vibe is bad for potion-making, since it forces him into the reality that he isn’t doing that– but there’s magic in the mundane, too. At least, so he tells himself.

His instructor, Hops, has just finished going over the ingredients and equipment, and he’s ready to get started. He waggles his fingers excitedly at the prospect– they’re finally getting to the good part.

“So, is there any drink in particular you’d want to try to make?” Hops asks.

“What are my limits?” Elucid replies.

“Oh, what do you mean?” Hops tilts her head.

“Like, if I wanted to make, say, a Celestiale, could I do that?” He’s pretty sure the answer will be no, but he wants to know where the line is drawn. Usually, when he goes a bit too far, the other person sets a clearer boundary.

“Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to teach you the seasonal drinks,” she explains. “A fun one with a cool effect is a peach hellini, though! If that’s something you’d want to try.”

“Sure! Sounds good to me.” Exactly as planned. It wasn’t as though he had any opinion, anyhow– it wasn’t as though he was going to drink anything he made. Well– unless, of course, he was allowed to make something not available on the menu. He wasn’t going to ask, though, unless they maybe had more time at the end of the lesson.

Hops goes over the instructions, showing him what has to be done. Elucid watches politely as she does so, unable to find a good time to insert that he doesn’t really learn when he’s being shown what to do; he really needs to do it himself. He leans against the counter and drums his fingers, trying really hard to focus on making sure the words continue to sound normal (rather than the jumbled mess of syllables every set of instructions turns into eventually).

To little avail.

“-and that’s it!” Hops finishes. “Do you think you’re ready to give it a try?”

“Sure!” Elucid agrees. “Just a warning– you are going to need to explain everything again.”

“That’s alright– it’s why I’m here.” She smiles at him. “Where do we start?”

“With a glass,” Elucid answers, with all the confidence of someone with the right answer.

“You want to try that one again?” Hops asks.

“Uh, sure.” Elucid thinks really hard, but comes up short. It’s hard to think with the stab of humiliation that comes with being wrong; the worry that the heat he feels in his chest rising upwards meaning that he’s started to blush.

“Did you… just tune out as soon as I started talking?”

“No, it’s- uh,” he falters. It’s difficult to explain the actual problem– for him, anyways. There’s a sort of vulnerability to having weaknesses that he hates to show. “It’s just my auditory processing disorder. I have a hard time following a lot of words spoken to me– especially when they’re directions. It all kind of just… gets lost. If you have a written version of the recipes, that would be very helpful. Or- if you wanted, you could just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’ve been told I’m good at following instructions. Is that cool?”

“Sure,” Hops agrees, wishing he had said something earlier. “Alright, the first step is to dice and peel your peaches!”

“Awesome! Can do.” Elucid grins, remembering, now. “How fine do you want these? My knife skills are pretty- well, they’re only okay. Still.”

“They’re just going in the blender, so they don’t need to be super small,” she answers.

Elucid has always been pretty good at cooking– their peach cubes are all fairly similarly-sized; and they managed to cut the skin off without sacrificing very much of the fruit. Peaches are probably his favourite fruit, though, so he has to restrain himself from licking the juices off his hand. It would be unsanitary.

“Alright, good job!” Hops smiles. “What comes next?”

“Something to do with raspberries.” Elucid’s comment is definitive– and he thinks he just drops a few into the blender, but after that embarrassing glass screw-up? He’s not going to take that chance.

“Yep!” Hops does not continue.

“And… I put them… in the blender…?” 

He laughs just a little bit, trying to convey a sense of lightheartedness to counteract the nervousness he feels. He doesn’t like feeling so vulnerable, helpless, twice in a row like this. He feels like he should just know what to do. But that is why he’s here– to learn, because he doesn’t. He tries to reassure himself enough to forget his nerves.

Hops gestures out towards the blender, which does nothing to allay his worries. Elucid tentatively drops the raspberries, one at a time. He’s expecting this to be some sort of trick– like Hops will very abruptly pull the rug out from under him, and exclaim that he’s doing it wrong.

Nothing of the sort occurs, though, and he dares to assert,

“I add the water next, right?”

“That’s right! Two-thirds of a cup.”

Elucid runs the tap, and pours that water into the blender.

“And that’s all, right?” he asks.

“Right,” Hops affirms.

Relieved, Elucid runs the blender. Now that he’s gotten something right, his nerves are settling.

“There’s one more step before you can just pour this into a glass,” Hops says, trying to give him a hint.

“I should strain it,” he says, feeling all of a sudden like he’s been doing this his whole life. Anxious spiral: over. “Get the juice out.”

The sieve that Hops had used is readily available in the sink, so he grabs it with one hand, and the blender pitcher in the other. Hops pulls a cold flute out of the fridge under the bar.

“Normally, you’d sieve this into a different container before pouring it in the glass, but this is just for practice,” Hops explains.

Elucid nods, concentrating on eyeballing the correct amount of fruit puree.

“...and then I add Prosecco, right?” he asks, without looking up.

“Yep!”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it! Make sure you top it off a bit more when the fizz goes down, but other than that– you’ve done it!”

Elucid grins widely. “I’ve done it!”

He quickly finishes making the drink, and holds the elixir up.

“I’ve made… a potion of inebreation!” he exclaims.

“You… sure could call it that.” Hops smiles. “It’s a really nice colour, too.”

“Thank you!” He places the flute back down on the counter. “Alright, I’ve got one down! What’s next?”