Violette stopped in front of a window with a beautiful silver gown. Her heart pitter-pattered at the sight of a gorgeous dress. The little reminder that the ball was coming and it was closer with each minute. And with that, her little mission as well. Her gaze slipped to the mesh iridescent sleeves of the gown, and the silver long ribbons on the waist down the skirt. And she'd stand there longer scrutinizing the beauty if Dante's voice didn't pull her back to reality and she had to catch up with him.
In a few short moments they were already standing on the threshold of the inn.
The evening didn't end – she had to prepare the potion for tomorrow's soiree. Fortunately, the fairy’s dust could be added later so she had all night to peacefully brew it, without a worry. Well. Almost peacefully: Dante decided to stay near all the time, watching her work. Now she finally got his intentions – he just wanted to get on her nerves.
“And what do you want to do?” She glanced at him from the side, placing all the ingredients on the table.
“Just want to see how you brew the potion,” he said simply.
She narrowed her eyes, taking another vial full of liquid. It was hard to believe he had nothing suspicious on his mind.
“Fine,” she mumbled, pouring the liquid into a little black cauldron. The first bubbles on the liquid surface gave a sign to add another ingredient.
“You don't need a recipe for it?” Dante asked, glancing at the pot.
“Sleeping potion is not something rare,” Violette noted and stirred the liquid with a soup spoon – the only spoon she found in the kitchen. “I had plenty of practice in the shop to brew it for years. You know, a lot of people have insomnia.”
Violette's eyes hadn't left the brewing potion. Next thing that fell into the pot – dried petals of forget-me-nots, then after mixing she poured the periwinkle juice and the liquid inside the pot gained a rich shade of dark blue. A flowing lavender steam emitted in the air, dancing in the light of a dim lamp.
Dante silently observed all Violette's actions as if it was very important to not miss anything. It could be said, he found it quite entertaining by the way he tilted his head to the side. A half-smile formed on his face as his eyes followed Violette measuring the juice from night blueberries which she mashed in a teacup with the spoon.
Then she added two tablespoons of the puree and the steam changed its hue to a vivid blue, the liquid inside the cauldron hissed with bubbles that emerged on its surface.
The silence that settled down in the room wafted the suspicion in Violette’s soul. Her eyes flew to Dante just in time as his fingers reached a vial with the periwinkle juice and before he could take it she hit his hand with the spoon.
He grumbled, shooting her a glare with a question.
“It's myarea of work, so there my rules apply,” she declared.
“You could just say.” He raised his brows and the rigorous crossed his face again.
“That would be no fun,” she said smugly and continued to stir the potion.
Her fingers pulled one and a half of the cloudlet pillows. The little pink puffs dissolved in the dark liquid and the potion changed its shade once again, this time to a dark periwinkle.
“So you do it not only because it's your work?” Dante expressed.
She questioningly raised her eyes to him. “What do you mean?”
“I thought you make potions only because you are paid for it, not because you actually…like it.”
Violette stirred the potion once again, pondering.
“I love brewing potions. Don't you have something you like to do?”
Dante glanced at her with a mysterious smile.
“Except following witches to their place of work and making deals with them,” she added teasingly.
Dante parted his lips. “How did you know?”
She blew a chuckle. “No, really. Do you have something like a hobby?” She looked at him once again, while he seemed to think about her question.
“No,” he finally replied.
“I don't believe you.”
“Everything I liked was left in my human life,” he said and pushed off the table to leave. This time his voice sounded frigid and gruff. Violette felt like the distance between them stretched again. The carefree atmosphere evaporated and the cold set in the room instead.
