Iris

Age: ...Who's asking?

Birthday: November 15th

Zodiac: Scorpio

Height: 157 cm / 5'2"

Occupation: Certified Mad Scientist

Hobbies: Reading, painting, alchemy

Likes: Fiction, flow painting, all colors of the rainbow, experimenting, decorating, gold

Dislikes: Prudes, strict rules, sterile spaces

Guilty pleasure: Writing

Personality: Friendly, assertive, eccentric

The bell above the door gave a lyrical tinkle as the blue-eyed, golden-haired man entered the apothecary. He made a show of perusing the first few of the floor-to-ceiling shelves that lined the shop before approaching the large work table sitting near the back of the space. The shelves were stocked full of potions of every hue, some shimmering, some bubbling, some seeming to fold and twist but only when you weren’t looking directly at them.

At the table sat a young (appearing) individual. They watched him with (mostly) false boredom, their deep red hair twisted up with a paintbrush and their left hand hovering - quill poised to keep writing - over a large sage green journal. Beside them, fresh potions steamed.

“Still working on that piece with the dragon?” The man asked, his smile curved up with a soft joking that he often used as an attempt to mask his genuine interest. They were, after all, the most talented writer he had ever met. And as an avid reader, that certainly meant something.

“No” they sighed, straightening their posture and stretching their neck - suddenly realizing it was stiff from the hour (or was it hours) they had spent crafting a new tale of wonder and mystery that morning. “I finished that one two days ago.”

He waited, knowing asking them questions would be less likely to result in further information.

“It’s a mystery,” they explained. “A twisty drama that leaves even me unsure where it will end.”

“Woke up in the middle of the night with another wild idea and just had to see where it would go?” He teased.

Well, somewhat teased given this was often the way their stories began. A sudden rush of inspiration, a wild idea, a vivid image that begged to be explored. And away they would go, writing with such intensity and joy that it trumped even their amazing skills and passion for potion creation or painting (this passion prominently displayed in their shop as well in the form of vibrant and impressionist styled painting across the ceiling and any open wall space).

They knew what he wanted, and what he wanted to say. In response to the first, they slid a blush-colored journal across the surface of the table towards him. Their latest completed work - the fantasy novel. He was their best friend, appreciating their eccentricities and intensity as much as they appreciated his calmness and humor, and thus the first to read any new tales.

To the second they simply gave him a challenging stare, one eyebrow raised, and waited.

“Don’t give me that look!” he adamantly objected.
They waited further, the look remaining cemented on their face.
“I wasn’t going to say it!” his denial half-hearted, even he knew it was false.
They cracked a smile, knowing their victory was secured, and set the quill back into the ink to rest while they helped him with his potion purchase.

He had often tried to persuade them to send their works off to a publisher. They were talented beyond measure, he would say, the world deserved their talent. But they remained firm in their refusal. Writing, like painting, was something they did for themself. It was their soul’s joy to create, and as they had learned with their potions, at a certain point creating for others takes away some of the innate freedom in the act of the creating. They loved sharing their potions with the world, and took pride in the good they did for others. But their writing? That was theirs. It was theirs to create just for the sake of creating. It was their heart song, taking form in words. It was theirs to share with those they loved, baring their soul in a way they weren't willing to do with the world. And to his credit, he did understand…mostly.

They rose from the large work table with a lightness and came around to his side.

“So my friend, what potion will it be today?”