"The trick," it says, stirring counterclockwise, "is to remember the jumping beans are dramatic little things. They must be simmered at low heat—never boil, unless you’ve blooded the mix with an animal derivative. Except—"
It pauses, the ladle hovering just above the surface as if waiting for it to scream.
"Except when the beans are listening. Then, you stop. You stop, or they remember the last time they burned."
- @magister-verdant
Violyste is in the middle of taking notes on the potion. Halfway through the explanation, she stops. The *crack* of her pencil lead breaking is audible throughout the space before she tosses the notebook to the side.
"Verdant, you can't tell me something is a rule and then give a list of exceptions. That's exactly how a rule doesn't work. A rule implies constancy. Like the orbit of the sun. Or...the laws of gravity with non-magical objects. Or the rules of energy dictating that it only gets passed around and not created." She pauses for a minute. Inhales.
"And I know I've waxed poetic about stars and their histories before, but what in Esperia do you mean, the beans are listening? They're BEANS. They shouldn't be hearing anything!"
Uh oh. Her eye is starting to twitch.
