A STREET I KNEW ☆ potion making

[devland]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 60%; min-height: 8px; font-family: arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 25px"]Devland easily remembered the previous conversation he'd had with Roan about his medical duties. Devland had started off the conversation rather poorly, but with his charms, he'd righted the wrongs. Granted, he'd never actually meant to affront of Sage, but sometimes, his words didn't always convey his true emotions. Regardless, Devland often thought about how Roan was the sole healer of the group. There was no one else. Not only did the thought of doing everything alone fill the boy with disgust, it also made him ponder how lonely it might be.

Roan was practically an endangered species. Images of Illidge's ant-blue butterflies swarmed in his mind, and he pushed them away, knowing he really shouldn't start associating his friends with insects (even if that species of butterfly reminded him of Roan's eye-color).

Speaking of Roan, Devland just happned to be in the area when the healer finished his spell. He scrunched up his nose in thought as he observed the scene in front of him. "Hey, what are you -" His words caught in his throat when he realized he had arrived at the same time as Ament. Devland's eyes widened a hair as he took in the carcass Ament laid at Roan's feet in offering. A look of actual disgust colored his face until he forced a look of slight indifference. "You accept sacrifices now?" he couldn't help murmuring, eyes narrowing in confusion as he looked from Ament to Roan.

The strange boiling substance. The dead creature laid at the alter-of-sorts. This definitely had to be some sort of sacrificial ritual.