Bonus Wren Story: Lab Safety (female Wren)

Wren’s study is buzzing with activity today, despite the fact that she and I are the only ones in it. I stopped by on a whim today, flopping down on the couch to chat with her, her quick mind handling both work and a full conversation with a dexterity I can't help but admire. Eventually I convinced her to let me join in – I’m not exactly invested in her current project, but playing assistant is a fun diversion on my day off.

“Hand me the bottle of purple liquid, would you?” she asks me now, not looking up from the small crystal cauldron perched on her desk.

“Dark purple or light?” I ask, scanning the shelves.

“Dark. And don’t listen to it if it whines.”

“Whines?”

“Yes, it-” but her voice is interrupted by a low hum that rapidly rises into a high pitched noise as I lift the glass bottle. I stand, transfixed, staring at it. It’s… unpleasant, but I can’t help but wonder what’s causing it.

I should probably stop listening. She said not to, but…

I bring the bottle up to my face and looking closer, see that the liquid is swirling quietly in place and beginning to bubble. I bring it even closer and see sparkles of silver that begin to feel as though they’re looking back at me. I open my mouth to ask Wren what the substance is-

She snatches it out of my hand. “Really, now,” she huffs.

“Oh- I-” I come back to myself in a rush and look up from my hands to see her dark eyes inspecting me closely, her brows knotted together.

“Safety is essential here,” she says, depositing the vial on the table with one hand and cupping my cheek with the other. “Even if this isn’t a full laboratory, the rules still apply, I told you that. I won’t have you being hurt,” her tone softens, as does her expression, and I realize I’ve actually frightened her.

I smile apologetically. “Sorry, Wren.”

She's silent for a second, then exhales sharply, turning and busying herself again with her work. “Why are you so impossibly difficult to remain cross with?” she mutters, a faint flush blooming at the tip of her nose and ears, the natural hue of her skin suddenly heightened.

"What can I say?" I joke, "I'm a real charmer."

“I can't argue with that," she says wryly, then declares, "No more assistant duty for you today. You can help me find passages on glowing nightshade instead. The books can’t hurt you, at least.”

“As you command, Archivist,” I grin, giving a little salute. "You know I live to serve."

"If it's orders you're in to, just ask, darling," she chuckles. "Don't go risking injury over it."

I laugh, and make my way over to the couch, settling in with a cup of tea. We’ll go to dinner later, stroll through the city and make the most of the evening. But for now I’m content to sit and enjoy the quiet atmosphere of the study, glancing up to watch Wren now and then as she picks apart the world’s mysteries.