cruising at a hundred

For whatever reason, the petite male was equally confused by Deion's confusion over his presence. Neither of them were cut out for casual social interaction, evidently. He stammered out that he was merely looking for company in the wake of the plague that had accompanied the eternal midnight of winter. A soft grunt escaped the cosmic male, and he glanced over at the man who now lounged on the furs near the window. He was silent for a beat or two, simply considering the male. For a moment his eyes traced the delicate patterns of ivory that traipsed over his dainty features. "I can't say I'm the best company, but you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like." He rumbled with a light shrug, before his attention drifted back down to the mortar before him. He'd gotten the marshmallow broken down fairly well, and the leftover liquids that had escaped were now swimming with pulp and macerated petals.

"I'm working on a few tinctures for sore throats and coughs, our stores were nearly emptied last season." he said without looking up, unsure why he was explaining himself to the other man. "Are you familiar with herbs at all?" he asked next, and this time he glanced over for a moment at Sota. Then he got to his paws, and wandered over to the hearth. Tucked between the stone foundation and the wall, he kept assorted cookware. Metal pots worked best for boiling down mixtures into a concentrate, so he grabbed a small pot with a handle and carried it over to where he was set up. The hardest part of this was going to be tipping the mixture into the pot without spilling. Oh so carefully, he grasped the side of his mortar between his massive jaws and lifted it from the ground. Stone grating against teeth was arguably one o the most uncomfortable sensations out there, but Deion hardly complained.

Once the soupy mixture had been emptied into the cooking pot, he set it aside. With a heavy paw, he tipped the bowl of sodden boneset into the mortar. Both of these plants were rather fibrous, so they would take time to cook down after being macerated in the mortar. That would allow the mixture to become more concentrated as the water evaporated, and he could dilute it across a few servings to maximize his yield. With the pestle back in his grip, he went back to the rhythm of pulverizing the woody stems and fibrous leaves.