[center][h1][color=00aeef]Clara Jay[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2]Location:[/h2] Gardens > Kitchen[/center]
[center][h3]Interactions:[/h3] [color=FFAD11]Mark[/color][/center]

[center][i]"[color=00aeef]Finally,[/color]"[/i] Clara muttered as she extended her hand and guided her knife across the flesh of her prey, [i]"[color=00aeef]you look oh so delicious.[/color]"[/i]  She licked her lips as the section she cut fell from the body above. The blade glistened in the dimly lit room, covered in the juices from her prey. She drove her blade across the surface once, twice, and a third time more.  All the while, a wicked smile crossed across her face as the thoughts of this soon-to-be meal crept into her mind. [i][color=00aeef]"Please be delicious,"[/color][/i] she whispered as she cut one final piece from the fruit in front of her.  

[i][color=00aeef]"And if you're not, that is okay,"[/color][/i] she paused as she placed the final pound of flesh in the cloth bag beneath her. She took a cloth rag and cleaned the knife before placing it on the table to her side. [I][color=00aeef]"We will try again in a couple of weeks with a different incantation, alright?"[/color][/i] She gave the log a simple pat before grabbing the bag, raising it up, and resting the strap on her shoulder.  The log was initially from an oak, but it was stained dark with each incantation thrown into it.  In its midsection rested layers upon layers of one particularly fun fungi.  While the technical name was of no importance anymore, especially after all the spells Clara threw into it, it was a chicken of the forest.  She took a step backward and gave the scene before her one final look.  

She had begun this particular experiment earlier in the year. She sought to grow a tasty, edible alternative to actual chicken for the coven.  One that would produce its fruit throughout the whole year and grow back in weeks instead of months.   Clara got the blessings to conduct this experiment from the elders. Thus allowing her to grow and cultivate her specimens in one of the magic gardens inside the mansion. As the experiments dragged on, and each iteration brought with it their own failures, it became less of a noble pursuit and instead became one driven by spite. If the elders could peer into her soul, they would see just how far she would fall if it meant she could get just one tasty, edible chicken strip from this mushroom.

What is simple for nature to create is complicated to enhance by magic.  What is hard to enhance by magic is prone to failure and unforeseen consequences. 

[i]"[color=00aeef]You all be good,[/color]"[/i] Clara spoke while gesturing towards the variety of plant life inside the garden.   While her experiments were a passion, she still tended to every plant as professionally as she could.  Not many witches came by the mansion, and fewer still lived within its walls. Still, many would need the various herbs and ingredients for their spells and incantations.  Even if that was the only reason for them to return, Clara kept everything in stock, available, and healthy.  [i]"[color=00aeef]I will be back later.[/color]"[/i]

With that, Clara left the room and began to make her way to the kitchen. The night prior, she had created a wet solution, and a dry rub, for this next step of her experimentation.    She was going to fry the flesh like she had tried many times before. It would be a nice, crispy texture that allowed the mushroom underneath to steam inside the protective breading.  Her belly rumbled as she walked, reminding her that she had actually not yet eaten anything today.  Clara always liked to be up early to tend to the crops and get a few hours of the day free from other people, yet sometimes this morning routine avoided the kitchen as she focused her energy on her duties.

The chorus of a conversation underway filtered into her ears.  Others were already in the kitchen.  Clara quickly stopped in her tracks as she faced the dilemma fast approaching her.  On the one hand, she needed to eat something.  If her recent experiment failed, there was still a plethora of food to sample in the pantry.  That would mean that she can continue her work with a full belly and energy.  On the other hand, the possibility of socialization.  That would mean actually socializing, and nobody likes that.  Well, nobody but Ismael.  He wanted her to get to know the witches in the coven more, even if they come and go.  So, in a rehearsed motion, a pair of headphones found a home in her ears, and a soft song started playing.  In a moment, she emerged into the kitchen and took stock of who was there. 

She first caught sight of Mira, a human girl with a prestigious background.  Mira was nice enough, even if she was a bit too in-the-know about the operations of the coven.  Clara held no ill will towards the girl, and her eyes quickly shifted and landed on the frames of a second person.  This one was more known to Clara.  This was Mark and he also had a family history that carried weight.  He was independent, rallied against the rigged nature of his family's traditions, and he sought to expand his craft in a unique way.  Clara flashed Mark a weak smile as she lowered her bag on the countertop.  As she reached for the fridge she shifted her eyes towards the last individual, quickly being taken aback by their powerful aura.  Clara's smile faded as she took in the visage of this unknown witch.  He was a stranger, but she suspected he might be the original coven member she heard so much about on the grapevine.  She lingered her eyes on the stranger for just a moment before she turned her focus on preparing her food.[/center]