Jewel
Amicia de Blanc
The Crimson Flow Mortuary

A week ticked by quietly in the Mortuary as Amicia settled into her new home. She liked the new Mortuary, it was quiet for the most part and there were no asters constantly looking over her shoulder or breathing down her neck. 

Getting used to Hugo was the hardest part of adjusting. Alabaster's assistant was loud and opinionated and the street rat accent he had acquired sounded brash and cold against her ears. 

Sometimes when they worked on a body together he would talk and talk and talk and she would think of using the knife she had cut open a chest with to slash his throat open and quieten him - not that she wanted the boy dead by any means. She just wanted peace.

Today, she returned to the mortuary after her first trip to the market, though finding the main floor empty she frowned. She hadn't been told where to put the herbs she had been sent out for yet.

Quiet as can be, she crept down the stairs as the boards creaked under her small weight and held her breath. The basement was dank and cold and had an echo to it that always unsettled her. Going downstairs alone she felt as though any noise she may make would anger a spirit and cause it to push her down them - and it was a long way to the floor.

At the bottom, she looked through the room to see Alabaster at the dehydration and cooling chamber. She still hadn't been told what that was for. Alabaster wasn't particularly talkative.

"Huuugo sssaid that uh-that-that that was f-for organs. B-b-bu-but sssaid that you-you would tell me what-tell me- tell me what you do-do with them." She said into the echo of the room that made her feel as though a thousands voices were mocking her.

Her stutter always seemed to worsen around Alabaster, she didn't know why this gaunt little man terrified her so much. He was about as small as herself, only much taller. *The sooner I get some lessons*, she thought to herself, *The better*.
Dawn
Alabaster Brack
Crimson Flow Mortuary, Stormalong

Alabaster opened the lid of a jar containing a liver and pulled the organ out in the dehydration chamber. His skinny fingers gentle probed the organ, squeezing it to see if any liquid leaked out. A disatisfied frown formed when he pulled his hand away and noticed a translucent substance coating his fingers. It wasn't dry yet. His other hand inspected the clay in the jar and found it to be damp. 'It needs to be changed.' As he moved to pull the jar out of the dehydration chamber he heard the stutter of his newest apprentice. Once the jar had been removed, Alabaster walked past Amicia and set it on the table before disappearing into the darkness to search for the red clay. 

"Say it again. Slower. Feel the words in your mouth before you speak." Though she couldn't see, his haunting green eyes were trained on her to see if she would comply.
Jewel
Amicia de Blanc
The Crimson Flow Mortuary

*Feel the words in your mouth before you speak*. 

Amicia wanted to yell. In her head she was as fluent a speaker as Alabaster but she thought so quickly that her mouth had trouble keeping up. Her tongue struggled to wrap itself around the sounds that should have been familiar to her.

She took a deep breath. She wouldn't loose her temper.

"Hugo sssaid, that was used-used for orrrg-," She tried, her mouth catching on the harder sound. She could feel the sting in her nose that would came before tears and bowed her head.

"I'mmm nnnot-not an id-id-idiot." She protested quietly to disguise the shake in her voice. She wasn't upset but anger and fear rose up in her chest. Would she be sent away if she couldn't learn to speak properly?
Dawn
Alabaster Brack
Crimson Flow Mortuary

"No, you are not." Alabaster replied quietly, his tone matter-of-fact, lacking any indication of mockery. He set the clay onto the table near the jar and motioned for her to set the herbs down on the other side. 

Baster's hands began to knead, softening the clay from a dried brick to a malleable consistency. "You didn't have trouble with the word organ before." His eyes moved to her face for a brief moment before returning to the clay. "Again."
Jewel
Amicia de Blanc
The Crimson Flow Mortuary

She took another breath but kept her head down, sure Alabaster's piercing gaze would only make it harder for her to get the words out.

"Hugo ssaid that wass for-for organs, but-bu-bu-b-but," Amicia stopped for a moment and took another breath to stop herself from getting frustrated again."But he said-he said that you would te-tell me what you do with them."

It was an improvement, she hoped. As she finished speaking she bunched up a hand and gently knocked her knuckles above her temple, feeling the individual bumps of her fingers.

"I can- I can write inst-ed."
Dawn
Alabaster Brack 
The Crimson Flow Mortuary

Alabasters hands continued to knead, setting aside the clay when he was satisfied it was soft enough. He reached for another handful as Amicia tried again. 

When she paused his eyebrows rose as he waited for another excuse, but was pleased when she took a breath an continued. *'Better.'* He thought, continuing to work the clay. 

When she offered to write Baster shook his head and set the clay aside, hands gripping the side of the table as he attempted to meet her gaze. "You want to be able to speak clearly. If you intend to continue with me, you must be able to. Writing does nothing to help you meet your goal." 

The Aster reached for the herbs she had brought and held one up between them. The herb looked like a weed, a mossy green color with small darks bumps filling the surface of each leaf hanging off the side. "Aliery." He nodded for her to try to repeat the name.
Jewel
Amicia de Blanc
The Crimson Flow Mortuary

Amicia did not meet his gaze, instead she looked at the jarred liver. She never liked the look of livers, of all the organs she had seen, which was all of them really, the liver was one of the more boring ones and she never could understand how people bared to eat them.

"Ay-lllie-ree." She sounded out slowly, letting her tongue and mouth get a feel for the name,"Alie-. Aliery."

She climbed atop a stool to watch him work. If he needed her to do something he would tell her,"You-you didn't tell me wh-what you-what you do wi-with them."
Dawn
Alabaster Brack 
Crimson Flow Mortuary

"Good." He nodded approvingly when she pronounced it correctly. He placed it aside and took another handful of clay, letting it roll between his palms. "On its own it seems unremarkable, but the bumps in the leaves contain an oil that can act as an antiseptic. When you chew it those oils are released and activated. Placing it on a wound will decrease the chance of infection." 

He stopped kneading and set the clay aside with the rest and motioned for her to pass the jar containing the liver to him. "For organs exposed to the elements, this is crucial as they are more vulnerable without their natural protections."
Jewel
Amicia de Blanc
The Crimson Flow Mortuary

As he motioned for her, she hopped off the stool again and took the jar, staring into it as she brought it to him. 

"I mmmeeeant the orrrg-organs. Why do you-why do you preserve them?" She asked as she set the jar by his hands and glanced up at him for a fraction of a moment then looked away and stepped back. 

Her eyes then found the herbs and studied them instead, away from his piercing eyes.
Dawn
Alabaster Brack
Crimson Flow Mortuary

Baster met her gaze briefly and smirked when she quickly looked down. He opened the jar with seemingly little effort and removed the top layer of clay, setting it to the side. Moving over to the furnace Baster opened the door and stepped aside as a wave of scorching heat blasted out and heated the chamber. Reaching under, Baster yanked on the stone handle and heaved the stone table out of the furnace to reveal a collection of dried clay disks sitting on top. 

He quickly moved to grab an iron tong and lifted the clay disks from the stone and onto the table - seven in total. Setting the iron tong down to cool, he grabed the kneaded disks from earlier and replaced the dried ones before pushing the table back into the furnace and closing the door. 

Forehead beading with sweat, he returned to the table and leaned against it, eyes trained on the rising heat from the clay. It was visible and he was entranced by it. "For the sake of study." He answered with a half-truth. They were for study. Some.