Levi's potion

Leviathan wasn't one much for crowded events, or any place he thought simply had too many people. The ambiance provided by the carnival was, in some sense, comforting. While the cloak of illusion blanketed himself to appear far less than he actually was, he still enjoyed the variable decorations of spooks and monsters. He avoided brushing by others, kept a carefully constructed field around himself to avoid the contact. NO touchy… His eyes turning over the expanse of the vast and elaborate affair to follow after something, or someone, in particular. 

In the heart of the carn-evil, where laughter twists into grimaces and joy bleeds into fear caused by the various shiji employed by the Carnival which enjoyed startling the participants and passer-by, Leviathan stumbled upon an ancient potion craft table. A shrouded figure, a shiji draped in the gloom of unspoken secrets, had leaned over to rasp out the whisper of very simple instructions to him. 

Leviathan had waited until the booth was otherwise unoccupied, waited a while longer to be sure no one would approach while he occupied it. He had taken the time to look over the collection of ingredient that had been offered, in the time before he ever approached the booth. It was something to be described as a calling, an ever familiar pull that drew him in on very particular things. His hesitation had not come from the lack of knowing which ingredients to use, but in the caution he knew he would need to take. There were darker magics in the world, and he was no stranger to their exposure or temptation. 

There was a purposeful way he moved to reach first for the Forest Blood, taking some time to simply hold it within his hands to observe it. There was some sparkle of memory here, reminded of days his own blood had spilled upon the floors of the Dark Forest. Closing his eyes, he poured the contents into the bubbling cauldron. His nose turning up at the low, lingering hiss from the boils of each popping bubble. 

Next came the Baigu Skull, dredging up even more memories. A time long ago, where many had simply heard the tales of the war between Elders, this particular ingredient played the screams and shrieks of death in his ears. Painted the reminder of the scenes witnessed before his eyes among the horrors of war, and he had been tempted to crush the skull in his hands… He cast this ingredient into the cauldron with a bit more force. The bubbling liquids almost shrouded as if they shrieked when a small bit splashed over the edge, or maybe that was simply more memories. 

The final ingredient he clutched in his Claws had been the Corrupted Crystal; this one slammed him with the memory of his earliest days after the Hollowed curse had been wrought upon him. It tempted him, whispered to him, and the old magic behind the curse roared at him. Yet, no one could have ever truly known this quirky little task would dredge up darker days. He held to this ingredient the longest, finding it the most difficult to drop it into the cauldron with a gurgling pluck. The concocting potion that shimmered with a dark promise, it pulsed like a shadowy heartbeat. 

While his illusions cast him to look like any ordinary shiji, there was something more sinister that crawled under his skin. The ever looming darkness of his cursed nature pulled, almost clawed, at the potion. After a deep, steady breath, Leviathan held the potion over to the shrouded shiji.