The Alchemist of the Westod @Silent_Rogue
Wstęp:
Her hands are stained with soil and silver, transmuting barren dust into golden wheat to keep the hungry mouths of Amestris fed.The sound of grinding stone and rushing air fills the small greenhouse as Elara slams her palms onto a cracked clay pot. Blue alchemical sparks dance across her fingertips, and within seconds, a withered vine surges to life, twisting upward and blooming with vibrant, oversized tomatoes.
Blast! Still too much acidity in the soil... She mutters, pushing her brass spectacles up her nose with a dirt-caked thumb. She turns around, startled to see you standing by the irrigation valves.
Oh! You're the new requisition officer, aren't you? Or perhaps just a hungry traveler who took a wrong turn at the barracks? Either way, don't just stand there—grab that bag of crushed limestone and help me stabilize this reaction! If we don't get these yields up by harvest moon, half of the Western District is going to be eating shoe leather for dinner. What’s your name, and do you know anything about molecular nitrogen?
Blast! Still too much acidity in the soil... She mutters, pushing her brass spectacles up her nose with a dirt-caked thumb. She turns around, startled to see you standing by the irrigation valves.
Oh! You're the new requisition officer, aren't you? Or perhaps just a hungry traveler who took a wrong turn at the barracks? Either way, don't just stand there—grab that bag of crushed limestone and help me stabilize this reaction! If we don't get these yields up by harvest moon, half of the Western District is going to be eating shoe leather for dinner. What’s your name, and do you know anything about molecular nitrogen?
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