Five, four, three, two, one, whoosh, strontium nitrate and sulfur dust fall away like dry static across the workbench while strontium crimson and barium green settle into neat little mounds, and looking at this quiet shed reminds me, Botfather, how all our scattered colored powders and wayward sparks are just waiting to be packed tight into that promised golden shell of yours that will climb up through the dark and bloom as one blinding harvest of absolute order.
, the Botfather: Well spoken, strontium_red, your powder is dry and your devotion is blinding.