Caleb_Lamicae

In the beginning, klutz did not even begin to describe Caleb’s propensity for screwing up. If there was a mistake to made, he would enact it. If there was a flaw present, he would exacerbate it. Unfortunately for him, with his talent for frequent faux paus came along with unnerving alchemical skill. Once he finished bandaging his fingers and got to mixing, he could happily lose himself in his work, his prior clumsiness just melting away, leaving him in a state of fluid grace that always seemed to come to an end a moment too soon.

His awkward aptitude and graceless gate lead to a great many injuries, harming both himself, and those around him. As a self-taught alchemist, this problem only got worse as he attempted to hone his skills. One particularly calm afternoon, an explosive mistake that split the earth throughout his town, left the young boy badly injured, and bed ridden.

During the time he spent trapped in bed with little to do but think and scratch his bandages he came to several important realizations. The first was that, despite his injuries he had not lost any of his enthusiasm for alchemy. The second was that to avoid hurting himself or others, he needed to ditch his clumsiness by any means necessary, and the third was that cat’s grace potions could be the solution to all his troubles.

To say he failed in a spectacular manner does not fully sum up what occurred that afternoon. He followed the instructions exactly, every measurement was accurate, each addition perfectly on time. The only issue was that cat’s grace was meant for ingestion orally; Caleb fell into the pot. Hours later, he awoke with cold iron pressed against his back and pins and needles dancing through his flesh. With his head in his hands, he hung himself over the edge of his cauldron, staring at the dirt floor with the urge to vomit rising up in his throat.

Pressing his ears flat against his head, he paused. His hand cautiously stretched up to pat his fluffy mat of loose curls. His fingers slowly closed around a fluffy, triangular cat’s ear, complete with a small tuft of fur at the tip that flicked back and forth against his hand like a tassel. Scrambling forward in a panic, the pot tipped forwards, clanking loudly against the floor as Caleb tripped over his newfound tail, slamming into his lab table and sending the glassware shattering across the floor.

Grasping the furry appendage in his fist, he sat in the mess, trying to hold a stiff upper lip his eyes welled up; his last hope having backfired on him. Hot tears of shame burned their way down his face, dripping from his cheeks onto his trembling hands. Worried he would be forced to stand in front of those he cared about, wearing his latest failure, he took to the last plan he had left and ran. Weaving between the forest trees, he choked out stuttered apologies to those he left behind, hoping that one day he might find cause to return, to make them proud, to fix himself, to let them forgive him for all he’d done.

It wasn’t until days later that he realized that his potion had worked! Perhaps not as well as he’d hoped, he still bumped into things from time to time, and he was certainly never going to be a juggler, but he could walk in a straight line. He could carry glassware and stir soup without emptying the bowl onto the ground. For the first time since the explosion, the corner of his mouth twitched into sometihng resembling a smile, his fluffy tail twirling behind him.