Pearl

~A pearl.

A rarity, honed by years of patience.

The clam’s craft is not to be hurried, shortcuts taken, and neither can the eye of the beholder rush such beauty. It matters not the feelings of the individual, for a watched pot never boils.

This rarity, this beautiful Pearl, she knows better than to watch the cauldron. Only stir.

Almost worse, some might say. Perhaps it’s that same rhythmic encircling that ruins her.

Talons pluck the harp at her hip. A scrappy melody, to excite the concoction. Music and magic go claw in claw. Pearl’s progeny join in the song, voices warbling but earnest. She adores them so. But their song eventually ends. One by one, she listens as they fade, swallowed by silence.

Ruby eyes watch. Crushed sage, for taste, emboldens the potion. But potions are temporary.

It matters not the flavor. To her, it is always bitter. Twisting her visage, curling her tongue. Her song is sad. Melancholy embellishes every syllable, her throat tight with grief. Was it she, or was it her potions distasteful? Ivy curls at her claw tips. The little Lasher knows better than anyone her overwhelming distraught. But she is seen-- watched, even. By knowing eyes.

A great potion maker would know better. An even greater one would refrain.

Pearl knows she is no better than anyone else. She is not a beauty, not a rarity.

Her potions would be sweeter, if she were.
~
Made by @galaxychilde !