2? Wild card? Celandine eyed professor Kazimeriz suspiciously, as if he’d some how conspired that she’d get the number 2. He was soooo all about testing her like all the time. Okay so… symptoms. Celandine sat quietly, doing a mental scan of herself, wriggling her toes and her nose and everything that she could in between. Ok no scales or wings. Cela peeked at some of the other students, wondering what the point of a poison that did that would be; weren’t poisons, like supposed to be discreet and stuff? Or like, something?

Celandine read the recipe on the chalkboard again. Quint-ess-ence? What? She felt like she knew what that was, or like she had a moment ago. She read some more and blinked vapidly at the board.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

What was she supposed to be doing again?