The sorceress would look at the salts fondly, the once well-to-do drow having taken long dips in soothing baths, her skin becoming nice and smoothe, much like it was now due to how stretched her middle still is from its meal. The dark elf would hum to herself as her companions worked on findingnout this alchemical obstacle, feeling the slurry in her guts thin and churn as she considers how she could help, and offering "Don't really need the concoction if we cant manage, could also test a few different mixes."