He's floating in the air, in a meditative stance, and a ghostly hand picks up the nightshade powder, bringing it over to Ophion. "I'm still not used to this." He chuckles. "But, then again, I doubt I ever will be." Dozens of spectral skeleton hands fill the air around him, sorting various herbs and ingredients. "Any new you want to try out?" His scythe glitters on his back, the blade lined with thread-of-gold from the Liches staff, the powerful weapon deactivated for now. He smiles with his glowing eyes. "How's the outside world doing?"