Glass shatters on the floor. The snot-green goop drips down your clothes and soaks through, leaving ice-cold sensations where it seeps into your skin.
That's not good. Oh god, that's not good. You try to stand...
But the world suddenly zooms in, as if you've just fallen into a magnifying glass in use. The ambient sounds of many bubbling potions continue to drift through your ears as you dwindle down, torches burn in their sconces upon the walls, but only seem to heighten the dark atmosphere you've manufactured for the shop as your shadow slinks lower and lower down the wall. You've always heard customers go wild for atmosphere.
You were and still are seated upon your own stool, right in front of the thin vials, twisting tubes and many haphazardly stored ingredients atop your desk. Your grip had slipped on the potion you've been preparing, knocking it over and spilling its slimy contents all over yourself and... Well, you know full well that it was a shrinking potion. Especially now that you still feel its chilling effects as you sink into your own garments, the robes you wore now transform into a silk tunnel as they flop onto the wooden stool and you upon it.
You sit there in stunned silence as you process this, silky darkness pressing down upon everything around and including you.
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