Vyers stared at the sign on the door himself, and as he did so, multiple thoughts filtered through his mind: that Urd’s image engraved in the wood of the sign only served to remind him of the goddess’s immeasurable beauty, that Vyers wouldn’t mind having a sign of his own for his room but he doubted Gwen would let him, and that he really had absolutely no idea what he was doing. One look at the shelves of potions in the room was all it took to solidify that final thought. There were so many of them there in all sorts of different colors and sizes, and all Vyers had was a triangle and a word he wasn’t even sure he could pronounce.
The demon took a few steps into the room, hesitated, swallowed hard, and steeled himself. Now was not the time to get cold feet. He had come here for a reason, and the only way he was going to start on the road to fixing his poor, ruined reputation was to finish what he had started. Nevermind the fact that the wrong choice could lead to disasters unknown and could only end in more humiliation, everything could only go up from—
No, no, those sorts of thoughts were not what he needed right now. Perhaps it would just be better to focus on the task at hand.
Vyers took a breath and finally approached the shelves of potions. Seconds ticked past as the demon stared at the labels.
And stared.
And continued to stare.
“These…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper and shaking slightly. “THESE ARE NOT LETTERS!” Vyers clutched his head dramatically and let out a loud cry to the heavens. These were pictures! How did one even begin to pronounce pictures?! And he was supposed to figure out what the cure was from this?!
Vyers sucked in a trembling breath through his teeth to calm himself and took another look at the labels. He just… had to look for a triangle. From there he should be fine. And he had seen a few heart shapes on a few of the labels. Perhaps the label he was looking for would have something similar? Or a broken heart, though he was a little more hesitant to choose that one than the heart itself. There. That one had both. Now all he had to do was try and take a drink.
---
Ten minutes later a very panicked, very pink Vyers, approximately a foot tall and fluttering about with brightly-colored butterfly wings, dashed from bottle to bottle, leaving sparkles in his wake and desperately looking for something to turn him back to his beautiful self. So far there were at least five partially empty bottles sitting out of their place on the shelves.
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The demon took a few steps into the room, hesitated, swallowed hard, and steeled himself. Now was not the time to get cold feet. He had come here for a reason, and the only way he was going to start on the road to fixing his poor, ruined reputation was to finish what he had started. Nevermind the fact that the wrong choice could lead to disasters unknown and could only end in more humiliation, everything could only go up from—
No, no, those sorts of thoughts were not what he needed right now. Perhaps it would just be better to focus on the task at hand.
Vyers took a breath and finally approached the shelves of potions. Seconds ticked past as the demon stared at the labels.
And stared.
And continued to stare.
“These…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper and shaking slightly. “THESE ARE NOT LETTERS!” Vyers clutched his head dramatically and let out a loud cry to the heavens. These were pictures! How did one even begin to pronounce pictures?! And he was supposed to figure out what the cure was from this?!
Vyers sucked in a trembling breath through his teeth to calm himself and took another look at the labels. He just… had to look for a triangle. From there he should be fine. And he had seen a few heart shapes on a few of the labels. Perhaps the label he was looking for would have something similar? Or a broken heart, though he was a little more hesitant to choose that one than the heart itself. There. That one had both. Now all he had to do was try and take a drink.
---
Ten minutes later a very panicked, very pink Vyers, approximately a foot tall and fluttering about with brightly-colored butterfly wings, dashed from bottle to bottle, leaving sparkles in his wake and desperately looking for something to turn him back to his beautiful self. So far there were at least five partially empty bottles sitting out of their place on the shelves.