Jezera Mil-na was sitting in her office sipping wine. It was the tower of the abandoned manor, an expensive looking but old room with three tall windows, all in different angles above her desk to illuminate her workspace perfectly. She took her time, drinking the Tardai which she was offered as a gift after the visit to the Walkuun family estate the other day. She left with a stain, a familiar sting in her side, that something was amiss. She hated that feeling, the gathering storm, but there was not much she could do about it now. Maybe that was bothering her the most. If she could, she travelled back in time and doctored all of her answers, corrected or withdrawn all of her statements. On the other hand Walkuun looked harmless and she was called an alchemist, not a witch, not a healer, not a mystic. Those were good signs, she was convincing herself. But it made her uneasy that they knew where to find her and they knew this exact location. This was way too much information and she started wondering if the Long Needle gave out the place, but these mercenaries pride themselves on serving only their customers so she ruled it out. Her gut feeling however did not let it go, that it was Tarn. Every time when she thought about the fat man, she sensed this uncertain problem looming somewhere in the distance. She knew that she should trust her intuition, because her instinct was sharper than her consciousness. The centuries of interactions with people, the betrayals, the lost friends and the social games sharpened her mind in a way she could not sum it up and these were the instances she simply knew something was off. Yet, she took the man in, because she has finally found another intellectual after all this time. It was without doubt desperation, but she hoped she would not regret it.
She took her time with the wine and raised her glass for all the times she hoped in vain. It was time to do something productive, instead of rereading the feedback of her last creature. The computer was large and old, an expensive piece of equipment, which was made of black metal boxes, tubes and fluids connected to the three different sized screens on her desk. She was not reading the praises, the positive feedback. No, she was hunting for comments of criticism. Through the Astral she was connected to the Fertile New Land, a site dedicated for homunculi and other alchemical creations. It was a huge database of videos and pictures, but also of detailed descriptions of some parts of the recipes. There were models who changed their hair, skin or eye colors to show off an alchemist lab's skills and runways for absolutely reforged people who had injuries, sicknesses or just wanted to change something. There were drastic and even crazy changes, while most of them stayed inside the frames of conservative tastes. It was still called a freak-show by many in the Alliance (and outside of it too) where anti-Alchemist movements started again with newfound spark. She once thought that this idiocy will die out one day, but people loved to band together for causes. Especially if they could not comprehend those causes. To be absolutely honest with herself, she did feel that this aspect was somewhat better in the old world. There was a certain wisdom in longevity which is not present anymore.
Jezera was also fishing for something interesting, inspiring. She was not interested in body altering therapies, although she found it an art form and a necessity. She skipped all the elixir variants, which were lost for many countries during the Third Apocalypse but she still had the recipe in her pocket. It was her secure way of making money and also the reason why she had to move last time. To no one's surprise the rich and powerful are the first ones to invest in securing immortality and they usually don't take no for an answer. Another reason why she never liked her location exposed. It has always been a game of balancing between those who want to exploit her skills and those who want to burn her for them and also somehow profit from her work. This was no environment for a creative mind to flourish.
And now she was looking for the perfect homunculus, the head-turner, a creature that stops the show when it walks down the runway, when they interview them. She was aiming for something more than an interesting idea or a political statement. Many of the creators used their creatures to send a message and protest for inequality, slavery or hatred, making something symbolic and artistic; in many cases securing fame with controversial topics instead of craftsmanship. She was also consumed by this idea and now sitting there, she despised these pieces and she wanted to stand out from the herd and create something that lasts longer than the fleeting political movement.
