Step one: Grind the elfroot into a paste...

[fleurdesel]

WHO: Adelaide & Whoever wants to attend
WHAT: Potions & Poultices 101
WHEN: Harvestmere 28, morning
WHERE: The Garden
NOTES: As advertised the day before.



Set Up

As promised Adelaide had a large kettle brewing of a simple black tea. It wasn't much but it was hot and it was bitter- sugar, honey, and cream weren't exactly in ample supply but there were a few jars of donated jam and honeycomb donated by the kitchens and patients. Her own supplies for potions and poultices are laid out on a makeshift table. To one side her apprentices finish writing out and folding instructions- basic recipes for healing poultices, salves, potions- and the principles behind simple healing spells. If you could throw a fireball, you could heal a cut. Anything more complicated took greater study but the basics? Should be well known.

Behind and looking somewhat uncomfortable but, well, present, Bruce stood minding the bundles of herbs, handing out what was needed. While not a mage the surgeon was trustworthy and, honestly, needed to get out more.

During

It was simple enough. Adelaide went over the information on the cards handed out by her apprentices, demonstrated the proper techniques for grinding, mixing, layering the poultices and brewing for potions. They did not have as many kits for the brewing as they did for creating poultices, but they should have enough for those with an interest to learn or to help. After going through those Adealide would motion the mages that wished to learn more of basic healing off to one side to walk them through the theory, using some of the not quite so injured patients to demonstrate. Volunteers, all- she was careful in her instruction and thorough above all else- the last thing they needed was anyone getting injured from an attempt at healing.

After

Packing everything away in the afternoon to return to her tent, Adelaide was available for further questions, commentary- or criticism if something seemed poorly done, presumptuous, or overly curt.

Comments

[amygdalae]

I don't drink wine.

[It's pretty much the last excuse he can give.]

[fleurdesel]

Two jars of honey, or jam, or whatever small luxury you permit yourself in your hermitage of a tent.

[ Which doesn't seem to be much. She's noticed. ]

[amygdalae]

[When you've been on the run for so long, its hard to really develop a habit of keeping anything.]

I-- [He starts, stops, then makes a face.] I really don't need it.

[fleurdesel]

Which is why they are 'luxuries' Bruce. And that jam or honey would be a luxury for you speaks either well of your piety or your stubborn desire to make the rest of us look bad.

[amygdalae]

I didn't mean...

[Great, now he feels bad. Bruce frowns for another few more moments before he smooths his expression over and manages a nod.]

I'm fine with honey.

[Honey does have some medicinal properties that he can make use of.]

[fleurdesel]

...teasing, Bruce. I was teasing. Honey you shall have.

[ She reaches out and pats his arm with a light touch, not lingering in the slightest. There and gone. ]

One jar.

[amygdalae]

It's more than enough.

[Way way more than enough. There's an almost hesitant pause, and then he adds on a further:]

...thanks.

[fleurdesel]

I'll have it by the time we have tea this afternoon.

[ The daily break that she insists on keeping, for both of them. It isn't much- tea, food, quiet, but it's something they both truly need lest they grind themselves to the ground. ]

[amygdalae]

There's no rush.

[Bruce is very good at waiting. And with something like this, there's even less of a reason for him to really mind how long it takes. Honey doesn't go bad.]

[fleurdesel]

The sooner it's done the less likely it is that I will forget.

[ She waves a hand, vaguely. Everything she must keep track of for the sake of her own sanity? It'd be terribly easy for it to slip her mind. The only constants she has are those her apprentices or Compassion remind her of. ]

[amygdalae]

Whenever you've had the time, then. Don't force anything out on my account.

[If she forgets or whatever, Bruce won't have any qualms either. (In fact, he'd almost rather have her forget.)]