Cosmo
Does Not Know Kung-fu
Conner moved carefully, his hands steady and his eyes focused on the task at hand with an almost feral intensity-as he slowly scooped a small amount of the diced echinacea, mixed with a bit of licorice root, marshmallow root and a dash of lemon zest for a bit of flavor, into the empty pouch. Once it was packed in, but not too fully, Conner laid down his knife and shook his hand to let out his nerves as a slow breath escaped him. He hated this. He hated making tea. He hated cooking tea. If it wasn't sun tea or sweet tea, he wanted no business with it. But it was something they could get the kids to willingly take and that was enough for Conner to put himself through the annoyance of making it, and he didn't want Suzu to do it. She was tough, but it had to be bad for her wrist.
As he packed, his mind ran over calculations and projects, not related to this, no, to his real issue. While he didn't, nor had he ever, discussed it with another member of the pack, Conner had no desire to remain a wolf. He was going to find a cure, or at least, a treatment to stop the transformations to let him live a semblance of a normal life. The problem was he had no equipment to even attempt to begin research. Conner let his dark eyes jump around the small room he was in. It was the kind of room, he imagined, a renaissance era alchemist would have been proud to call his own as it was filled with vials of various liquids, empty ones ready to be filled, basins, a stove, mortar and pestles and other odds and ends for making tonics, but none of it was useful for people who wanted to do more then discover the world wasn't flat. He closed his eyes in frustration, what he wouldn't do for a lab, hell, he'd even take a child's play set at this rate.
Brushing the disheartening thoughts aside, he tucked the edges of the open tea bag down, stapled it and slid a string through the loop and tied it. Sure, it wasn't super neat and knitted shut like some people did, but he was awful at sewing which was confounding as Conner had preformed complex surgery, even helping with heart and brain surgery, could suture a wound so finely that it was a piece of art, yet when it came to threading a needle through a teabag, it ended up filled with more of his blood then leaves. While it would certainly add a very distinct 'iron' flavor, he doubted people would be fond of the color, but then again, they were monsters in a pseudo-cult that turned into wolves, so, maybe, it would be more popular then he cared to consider.
Finished with his project, Conner tossed it onto his 'complete' pile which consisted of a whole.. three bags, across the table lay dozens of empty tea bags, neatly folded and a very large pile of his diced echinacea and three smaller piles of his additives, "I fucking hate tea."
As he packed, his mind ran over calculations and projects, not related to this, no, to his real issue. While he didn't, nor had he ever, discussed it with another member of the pack, Conner had no desire to remain a wolf. He was going to find a cure, or at least, a treatment to stop the transformations to let him live a semblance of a normal life. The problem was he had no equipment to even attempt to begin research. Conner let his dark eyes jump around the small room he was in. It was the kind of room, he imagined, a renaissance era alchemist would have been proud to call his own as it was filled with vials of various liquids, empty ones ready to be filled, basins, a stove, mortar and pestles and other odds and ends for making tonics, but none of it was useful for people who wanted to do more then discover the world wasn't flat. He closed his eyes in frustration, what he wouldn't do for a lab, hell, he'd even take a child's play set at this rate.
Brushing the disheartening thoughts aside, he tucked the edges of the open tea bag down, stapled it and slid a string through the loop and tied it. Sure, it wasn't super neat and knitted shut like some people did, but he was awful at sewing which was confounding as Conner had preformed complex surgery, even helping with heart and brain surgery, could suture a wound so finely that it was a piece of art, yet when it came to threading a needle through a teabag, it ended up filled with more of his blood then leaves. While it would certainly add a very distinct 'iron' flavor, he doubted people would be fond of the color, but then again, they were monsters in a pseudo-cult that turned into wolves, so, maybe, it would be more popular then he cared to consider.
Finished with his project, Conner tossed it onto his 'complete' pile which consisted of a whole.. three bags, across the table lay dozens of empty tea bags, neatly folded and a very large pile of his diced echinacea and three smaller piles of his additives, "I fucking hate tea."