actionreaction: text: not so much writing as making a mess with a pen (lucas)
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Alyan’s skin was purple. There was no questioning the strange hue it had taken after he quaffed the potion Locien handed him with straight face. He hadn’t know what would happen; nobody did. Lucas only was sure it wouldn’t do permanent harm. But it was still Locien’s fault.

If the wild elf hadn’t come up behind him while he was measuring out distilled ingredients for a potion of alter self, hadn’t, with no warning, sucked Lucas’s sensitive ear into his mouth, teeth catching on the rings there, Lucas wouldn’t have dropped the entire portion of blackberries he’d been snacking on directly into the bubbling pot.

It was hard to protest, harder to make Locien stop, but both were intrigued by the sudden purpling of the potion, and Locien’s eyebrow raised. “Is it supposed to be that color?”

“No,” was Lucas’s slightly put-out reply. “That’s your fault. I have no idea what it’ll do now.”

He wasn’t in time to stop Locien from testing it on the wild elf’s elder but none too bright brother, who downed it without question.

Locien had only one thing to say upon watching his brother turn the color of berries.

“Oops.”

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