A Little Wicked

Oh, very well. I shall permit you to drink this poisoned wine. You should be honoured.

[semiramistress]

//she's right and she should say it

[thatsbelievable]

[thatsbelievable]

[semiramistress]

a sippy taken, while looking respectfully

That tea was poisoned, respectfully.

[screenshotsofdespair]

[semiramistress]

@hadescure continued from here

How daring, indeed. Of course, Semiramis has no reason to poison the dear doctor's tea, though if she'd wanted to, Asclepius' watchful eyes still wouldn't have been able to pick up on her subtle artistry. As it so happens, she had slipped something into his cup — a hint of an antidote to the poison he had subjected himself to, likely without proper protection.

‘ That, ’ Semiramis waves a hand dismissively, ‘ is not what I said. Hm, how does the saying go again? Haste makes waste? ’ As if to emphasise the idiom's meaning, she raises her cup to indulge in the taste of the delicious brew held within, dragging out the moment longer than necessary. When she sets it down again, her expression is surprisingly sombre.

‘ Let's not waste our time with pretences, shall we? My interest lies squarely with possible uses for my own purposes.’ Surely, he must've figured as much before seeking her out already. ‘ However, this substance is too volatile. What subtle uses it could provide, other toxins in my collection could do much better. Originium seems more suitable for larger-scale applications, but these particular effects aren't quite my style. And they surely are not in your interest either. ’

With a wave of her hand, Semiramis produces another box filled with toxic contents and sets it (as far away from anything containing tea as possible) on the table. Another wave and another box appear. Though it shares the same ornamental pattern, its colours seem reversed. She places it next to its sibling.

‘ You're far too reckless with these substances, Asclepius. If my poison dissolves this crystal, one will turn into toxic vapour nearly impossible to detect, the other into easily ignitable dust. I can't stop you from blowing yourself up for science, but at least take a pinch of this— ’ She taps on the second box. ‘ —every few hours or so. I won't be around to pour an antidote into your tea at all times, after all. Unless, of course, you do wish to collaborate more closely, in which case I'll settle for potent anaesthetics as payment. ’

[semiramistress]

darksails​:

It feels like watching an explosion in slow time behind a fluttering mosaic of masks.  And despite the visible machination of metaphorical smoke and fire, Semiramis holds an air of calm and elegance.  It’s impressive and admirable, yet duly notable.

“Fascinating,”   he hears himself say aloud.  And it’s no lie.  Unspoken sympathies to the dove, but the empress does have an adorable side to her after all—another so-called rumor that occasionally floats around among fellow riders.

“A pleasure doing business with you, my lady.  I’ll keep my word and thank you for your mercy.”   Immediately, Bartholomew sketches a half-bow for Semiramis, hand to his heart and all.  When he rises, he considers the next move while busying himself on the neat arrangement of his empty glass and a generous payment for the bartender on the countertop.

“Ah, but if I may add one thing …"   he starts again, already testing the mercy given.  Bartholomew then directs a shrewd look toward Semiramis.  The opportunity has presented itself nicely, and Bart wouldn’t be considered a pirate without taking the necessary risks.  So—he goes for it with a lofty smile and an accompanying wink.

"Should the rumors be true, you could recover the best of your charms if you let your bangs grow juuust a little more.”

The pleasure is not hers, and Semiramis resists the urge to roll her eyes at the meddlesome rider. What was the point of this conversation? If Bartholomew considers any of the suspect information he'd handed her enough to get under Semiramis' skin, he's sorely mistaken. Two of those supposed rumours already are at odds with one another. And that is only one of many reasons why his words are of no concern for her.

        ‘ Pirate, ’  she speaks without looking at him, instead shifting her attention to the modern communication device certain individuals prefer over messages delivered via dove, which beeped with a new notification only moments before.  ‘ Your likes are ill-suited for manipulation and intrigue. Don't try your hand at it again, lest you wish to further embarrass yourself. ’

She sets the phone down and lazily waves a hand at Bartholomew, as if to shoo him away. But even the most inconspicuous of gestures can hold much meaning — and this one brings a bevy of chains bursting upwards from beneath the pirate, immediately wrapping around him and holding him in place.

        ‘ Begone. ’ 

With all the gentleness of a deadly constrictor, the chains topple Bartholomew over and drag him along — far away from the bar and the Grand Duchess, who arrives just in time to behold the spectacle, one eye hidden and all. For her sake, merely removing the pirate from sight won't suffice, or he might return to ogle her in secret. No, Semiramis will dispose of him where he won't soon reemerge. Perhaps a cold bath at the docks would be to a pirate's liking? Or maybe a dull lecture from an old man would be a more suitable punishment — one he’ll get to enjoy in its entire questionable glory.

[semiramistress]

sanctaes​:

the rhythmic chop of carrots stops short at the sudden arrangement of items that should not belong on a kitchen counter.  shirou eyes the stack of DVDs with a crinkling brow, but the question of what goes where and more soon becomes a secondary concern at hand. 

the presented discs—their style and decorum, easily noted as the works of Shakespeare, dastardly done—calls for trouble.  some distant part of him coils up and bristles with the knowledge, mainly because it’s a series production cropping up unexpectedly from that caster.

❝  i can see why you would feel concerned about this, semiramis——do you think i am responsible ?  ❞    he asks, setting the knife aside and wiping his hands on a rag.  but, of course, semiramis need not answer.  any suspicions would be well justified considering the not-so-coincidences playing by his hand.  

well, except this one.

❝  i had no idea such things existed, ❞    shirou admits truthfully.  the first case is then lifted, scrutinized with an air of indifference, and he sobers into a smile at the sight of semiramis’ expression.  a soft chuckle follows suit.    ❝  still, aren’t you in the least bit curious ?  though, i suppose this story could be about any empress in love.  why don’t we play one to find out ?  ❞

Of course, Shirou would say that. Always with a smile, always holding concealed intentions, though if this were one of his schemes, it would be far less straightforward. Undoubtedly, responsibility for this sordid production lies solely with that suicidal playwright. But that pile of questionable movies didn't make its way here by itself, and if Shirou didn't prepare it in plain sight, someone else did. Semiramis fingers arrhythmically drum against the kitchen counter.

        ‘ I am far more curious about how the confines of this cabin have been breached not once but at least twice today. Do they let just about anyone waltz in here as if they own the place? Unbelievable. ’  Claiming it for a day doesn't make it Semiramis' property either, but that's of little consequence.

        ‘ At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if this very cabin were built atop the remains of some ancient graveyard. ’  She huffs and lifts a hand as if to greet an avian visitor, and indeed, a dove materialises out of thin air, gingerly perched on an outstretched finger.  ‘ Go. If you find any more would-be interlopers or something else amiss, return immediately. I will tolerate no further intrusions tonight. ’

Sensing a barely contained flare of temper in its mistress' demeanour, the bird hurriedly flutters outside. Semiramis attention snaps back to Shirou and the pile of incriminating objects. Eyes narrowing, brows furrowed with no effort to conceal her disdain, she retrieves the movies, a part of her mind already dedicated to discerning the most fittingly painful poison in her collection to slip into a writer's tea.

        ‘ If you truly wish to play one of these atrocities... fine. You'd better bring a good wine to make this worth my while, Shirou. ’

[mrn0093]

[semiramistress]

hadescure​:

Asclepius gingerly lifts the poison box from Semiramis’ hand, only finally turning his gaze away from her to spare a cursory glance at it.  

Such an unassuming, decorated little object containing corrosive toxins——this would do quite nicely.  It must.  And still, he does not open it to verify its contents.  Likewise, transactions are built upon trust, and though the caster may never verbally admit so, Asclepius has enough faith in Semiramis to understand she will duly uphold their deal.

“Very well.”   His answer is curt and aloof, much as how the poison box is slipped into his coat pockets without further ado.  Asclepius then turns to his side, giving the empress a sharp look.  It would be best to move on now, lest one of those law-abiding fools come to berate and interfere.  “Expect your sample around noon today.  If that is all, then … bye.”

——

However, no one can achieve medical breakthroughs overnight, and neither can progress be made on limited samples.  The subjects have yet to produce results;  the powdered toxin exhausted as quickly as fire burns through paper.  Asclepius had already calculated requiring another supply from Semiramis in his studies.  

But what he did not foresee—nor is quite pleased about—is finding himself at her door on the cusp of midnight for the sixth time yet.  Well, he thinks to himself, surely she wouldn’t mind a significantly larger exchange of materials for this.

He spares no greeting or apology when the door opens and says,   “Oh, good.   I need another batch.”

        ‘ Asclepius, ’  Semiramis repeats her earlier greeting, this time with but a pinch of weariness. Strictly speaking, servants don't require sleep, so an intrusion at this hour wouldn't pose an issue. However, this is far from Asclepius' first visit, and the empress briefly considers adding more apples to her diet. Nevermind the negligible amount of mana needed for the repeated item creation — her nerves are on the line if she doesn't intervene soon. She motions for Asclepius to enter her room, closing the door behind him.

        ‘ Far be it from me to stop a man from hurtling himself down the depths of despair — sit. ’  Semiramis, too, returns to the table and chairs amidst the room, neither of which still resemble Chaldea's regular style in the slightest. The room's luxurious decor makes it all too apparent that "basic" simply will not do for an empress.

        ‘ However, as you seem so intent on dragging me down with you, I've little choice but to stop you right there. Whatever you've been up to clearly isn't working. — Tea? If you dare. ’  She lifts an elaborately ornamented teapot, filling her matching cup with a faintly jasmine-scented liquid, then offers to pour another cup for her guest. The tea bears no traces of poison, yet the possibility always exists, and there's a special kind of enjoyment in occasionally reminding others of this fact.

        ‘ I can certainly think of better uses of my time — Master always keeps me quite busy, after all— ’  Lies.  ‘ — but in this case, a closer collaboration might be more beneficial. Share your research with me, and finding the most appropriate toxin and dosage should be a much simpler process. Of course, I will require adjusted payment. You wouldn't mind now, would you? ’

[semiramistress]

darksails​:

If looks could kill, Bartholomew would be futilely grasping at straws to keep his spirit core intact.  But though his being remains whole, that isn’t to say he cannot feel the chill of death and heat of adrenaline running through his veins after witnessing Semiramis’ expression, even without the threat of her magic. 

The comment must have struck a nerve, which means Bartholomew is right on the money.  A chuckle escapes him, resolved from a mixture of understanding and the tension thrumming in the bar room.  

“Hoho, are you asking me to sell out our comrades for the sake of your pride?”   He asks, a hand still placed before his lips, less thoughtful, more scheming now.   “Hmm.  That’s not exactly my style, but I suppose you’d do me a favor if I told you …”   It’s absolutely his style, but anyone could do to settle Assassin’s wrath, and Bartholomew has plenty of folks who could take the fall.  He withdraws a glitter pen from his pockets and scribbles words onto a clean napkin.

“Let’s see … rumors about your difficulties in accepting love, nervous chatter regarding heartache and lost love, and even how you’ve lost your touch.  I’ll list details, but figuring out ‘who is who’ is half the fun, anyway.”   Bartholomew clicks the pen’s nib in finality and slides the paper cloth to Semiramis.   Listed are a priest in red, a grubby pirate with a scar, and several other descriptors for Servants in Chaldea. 

Something like a treasure map, distinguishing features that lead to a special X marks the spot.   “——Though, that shouldn’t be a problem for someone as knowledgeable as you, my dear empress.”

She expected as much, yet every rumour Bartholomew lists amounts to another slight against her. And if it were all falsehoods, she might've magnanimously let some of them slide. But there's too much truth scattered here for comfort, and the list of names provided is far too long. Granted, Bartholomew obviously has his own agenda, so some of these suspects require further investigations, lest the empress might get tricked into doing a pirate’s dirty work for him, and that simply won’t do.

One description, however, requires no further inquiries whatsoever. Semiramis crumples the paper cloth in her fist, swiftly pocketing it before anger and embarrassment might render it unreadable.

        ‘ Your whimsical descriptors are unnecessary, but this'll do. Very well then, I should uphold my end of this... bargain. So—losing my touch, is it? ’

The empress calmly raises her glass to her lips, seemingly merely revelling in the taste of exquisite wine. Still, her wayward familiar, previously so happily seated on a pirate's head yet finely attuned to its mistress' whims and her wrath, senses something amiss and takes flight. Too late. Already, a chain wraps itself around the bird, now mewling in panic and struggling against its restraints, all to no avail. The chain swiftly drags its quarry back to a summoning circle, and the entire spectacle vanishes with a flash, leaving only a lone feather behind, lazily drifting groundward. Semiramis sets her glass down.

        ‘ How fortunate for you, pirate. ’  Her smile lacks any amusement.  ‘ You may keep your entire head for yourself tonight, after all. Naturally, that might change, so you'd best not repeat those baseless rumours to anyone else. Do we understand each other? ’

[semiramistress]

once you’re stripped clean, what’s at your core?

cauterizing rage

the house has burned around you, and you’re the only one left standing. is it gratifying to be the survivor? fear and anger are weapons in your capable hands, used only to serve your agenda of fighting back when deemed necessary. you're a powerful person, built from the ashes of your despair and your family's mistakes. with time, you'll bloom into someone softer, like the full blossoms that grow each spring and wither away with the leaves in fall. they won't disappear if you take your eyes off of them. you're enough.

tagged by: @octouso ty! even though i'm late as ever

tagging: @sanctaes, @bloodthirstyflower & anyone else who'd like to steal this

[semiramistress]

sanctaes​:

❝  thank you. ❞    he appreciates the notion as her hand slips into his, his thumb folding gingerly over her fingers.  semiramis is given a cursory glance, shirou wishing to press a kiss of reverence onto her knuckles.  but that would likely send the empress scattering like a burst of dove wings.  so he does not.

❝ i will dutifully make dinner as penance, ❞    he says instead, leading her inside the cottage.  the space is barebones in its variety, looking as if everything in it had been carved from the same lumber.  but, it still managed to provide all basic human necessities——which only added to the camping experience. 

amakusa beckons toward the plaided couch at the center. 

❝ please, make yourself comfortable while i prepare. ❞   but before taking his leave into the kitchen, shirou assumes the act of a waiter curtly bowing to his patron,  ❝ ——one plate of curry, fit for a queen. ❞   though the façade quickly dissolves with a round of timid laughter, the gag a bit too cheesy.   ❝ … although i’m not very good compared to chaldea’s cooks.  so i do hope you can at least enjoy it. ❞

and with that, shirou turns to shed most of his outer layers, rolls up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, and gets to work.

As Shirou leaves for the kitchen, Semiramis remains still, using the moment of solitude to observe something intangible. There's a whisper of old familiarity, and she casts it aside like a lacerated glove, too ruined to serve its function still. This was then, and now is now. Whatever happens here belongs only to them — to her as is. A spectre she might be, but at least she inhabits the now, unlike the her that was. That should count for something.

It should, but as her narrowed eyes drink in the surroundings (surely, if there is one thing amiss, there must be more), her gaze catches on a cardboard box, far too inconspicuously placed near the cabin's Television device and DVD player to be truly inconspicuous. The selection of movies itself being present here is not surprising —a summer camp staple, really— but she glimpses one cover adorned in black and red, sharp-edged golden lettering proclaiming a movie title that has no right existing.

Unobserved, there is no need to hide the spark of anger the cover ignites, and, skirt fluttering, she rushes to the box, picking up the incriminating movie only to find a sequel hidden behind the first DVD. "Crosses and Thorns," the title proclaims, "an empress' love story in 3 acts. A trilogy by Shakespeare Productions". Trilogy?! Of course, the box contains the final part as well.

Semiramis gathers them all in her hands, not even bothering to school her expression into an impassive, unbothered smile. Only one question needs answering now, and she reaches the kitchen swifter than a dove's wing beat.

        ‘ Amakusa Shirou. Did you know about these? ’  She drops the DVDs next to a pile of carrots.

[semiramistress]

‘ Death to the opposition. ’

[semiramistress]

hadescure​:

“How did you—”   But Asclepius stops the rest of the words from slipping.  As if keeping quiet would conceal his line of thinking and thus preserve a neutral expression toward the suggestion.  Unfortunately, the prompt and deepening crease of his brows betrays the effort.

Despite sharing class traits, Semiramis is a notorious source of knowledge and information, gathered through methods and networks that are far beyond him.  It’s admirable;  it’s disturbing.  Yet, it should also come as no surprise that she could have already discovered the identity of his master.  But to know of Haze’s medical situation?  This irks him.

“Do you think of me as stupid and careless to utilize such methods on the living without proper trial?  Foolish.”   Yet, Asclepius very much would.  His ego and confidence in medicine are hardly limited to social and sensible means.  Nevertheless, he clucks his tongue in annoyance.   “I have multiple test subjects for that purpose once I get my hands on said toxin.  No one will die under my care.”

Asclepius soon finds himself getting worked up over the matter and swiftly falls quiet. He takes a sharp breath despite the mask, scrubbing away the impatience with hastily placed layer of professionalism.  After, he looks at Semiramis with all the concerns of a tired doctor.

“In exchange for your assistance, I suppose I can procure you a sample of originium as requested——but I don’t think I have to say what will happen if you choose to spread Oripathy here.” 

How did she know, indeed? It's as simple as counting one and one together. Finding a new master under the current circumstances is miraculous enough. Having the good doctor's number one Christmas wish fulfilled at the same time by gifting him one of those rare, unheard-of diseases he keeps demanding? Not even the elusive empress can attribute a twice-rare occurrence like that to mere coincidence.

To Semiramis, however, it is of little concern whatever Asclepius is up to and whether it results in the death of his master or however many other test subjects. All that matters is how many resources she can wring out of their latest arrangement.

        ‘ Come now. I may be known for many things, but surely not for spreading plagues. ’  With one casual wave of her hand, a small, golden object appears mid-air. Semiramis effortlessly catches the delicately ornamented box and presents it for Asclepius' inspection.

        ‘ Well then, let's not waste both of our time. In here, you'll find a particular toxin in powdered form. A mere hint of it mixed into a jug of water should suffice to erode most minerals. Naturally, you'll have to tweak the formula according to your needs. If you require larger quantities or a substance of even greater potency, do let me know. However, the price for my assistance will increase accordingly. ’

It is not a threat, at least as far as the empress is concerned. It is merely a transaction between colleagues of sorts, an equal exchange for mutual benefit. Surely, Asclepius understands as much.

        ‘ For now, the swift delivery of a sample of that mysterious mineral will suffice. Are these terms acceptable to you, doctor? ’

[semiramistress]

darksails​:

“You wouldn’t dare——”  

But the quip needs no answer because Semiramis, empress of Assyria and oldest practitioner of poisons, would very much dare.  With uncanny timing, the dove on his head coos and alarmingly settles into the nest of his hair, forcing Bartholomew to retract his judgment with a ( pained ) slow chuckle.

Of course, he could brandish his flintlock or swing the cutlass, summon a few powdered bombs, stir up trouble the pirate way.  He would not have hesitated if it had been another scoundrel sitting beside him.  But Bartholomew Roberts is also a gentleman, so he sits his ass back down and finds manners of bargaining to satisfy a royal pain instead.

“What could a pirate like me offer a lovely empress?”   He questions, nearly hissing out the final words with distraught.  Yes, what exactly?  They have both anchored themselves in this dimly lit bar room for entertainment, and Semiramis has seemingly found hers in a pirate with little left to his name.  Think, Bart. Think.

“I don’t consider you the adventurous type, so I doubt you’d like to hear about treasures and riches,”   Bart continues, tapping his chin thoughtfully until an idea dawns upon him.  It’s a dastardly one, with sure consequences that write of his demise.  Still, a testing smile plays on his lips.   “Perhaps you would be more interested in the affairs of love then?  Hm hmm, yes, that would be a juicy topic——In fact, if the rumors going around are worth their weight, then I have to say, you need the assistance.”

Snnnrrrrrrk.

A golden thorn roughly scratches a deep furrow into the well-polished wooden countertop. The temptation to call upon her Garden right there and then is strong, yet she must resist the urge for the sake of the greater purpose at hand. But the look Semiramis shoots at the pirate is venom itself, and a glowing summoning circle floating above her head whispers promises of a hundred different ways he might meet his doom.

        ‘ What's this now? If you hold your life in such little regard, you should have said so. I am not without mercy, after all, and would have given you a quick, painless death. Now, however— ’

An entire group of summoning circles surrounds Assassin, and although nothing has emerged from them just yet, that is bound to change at a moment's notice, should she so please.

        ‘ —even prostrating yourself before me to beg for forgiveness won't save you. Me, the beautiful empress of Assyria, in need of assistance with — love? ’  She spits the last word out as if the mere act of speaking it burnt her tongue.  ‘ Preposterous! I should let my pets feast upon your flesh for that insolence. But. ’

        ‘ I’ll give you one chance to save yourself. It isn't much to ask for at all. Simply provide me with a list of these rumours and the name of every person who has been spreading them. Do so, and you might just save yourself. ’

[semiramistress]

hadescure​:

“——Ah, there you are, Semiramis.  I’ve been looking for you.”   Though no other greeting is given to the Assassin as Asclepius saunters up to her with a single objective.

“It may not be the season for our collaboration just yet, but I come to you requesting your valuable insight.  As you may know, toxins and venoms often go hand in hand with medicine, so I wonder …”   He offers a tablet toward the empress, depicting growths of Oripathy crystals and a few simple notes for her peruse.  It would save his breath from explaining its properties and his goals, thus getting to the point.  Surely Semiramis can connect the dots from this much alone.

“Do you have a poison that can dissolve in your possession?”   Asclepius continues, gesturing vaguely at the device,  “More precisely, one that can eliminate crystallization.  I could put it to good use.”

@semiramistress​​

        ‘ Asclepius, ’  she returns the greeting in equal manner. No unnecessary pleasantries, no waste of her precious time. And, unlike most people, his requests aim for Semiramis' skills rather than her beautiful albeit superficial attributes that have little to do with her sharp mind's capabilities. If only other individuals would take a page out of the doctor's book.

She graciously accepts the offered tablet. Even at first glance, this is quite the unusual request. And, if the recent reports from her winged network are accurate, then this must be far more than one of Asclepius' usual research projects. Perhaps even personal?

        ‘ Hm, I see. To think you'd find such a peculiar disease to bring before me. I imagine it must be quite the excruciating experience. You wouldn't mind bringing me a sample or two of this mineral, would you? I can think of a few uses for such a thing... ’  Yes, grinding it into fine dust, slipping just a hint of it into someone's tea — not everyone deserves a quick and relatively painless death, after all. But those are contemplations for another time.

        ‘ Now then, I should warn you, doctor. Even if I had such a poison in my possession — and I certainly do — any toxin with such corrosive qualities would inevitably harm any surrounding tissue in equal measure. I strongly advise against testing it on a living patient. You wouldn't want to kill that adorable new Master of yours by accident, would you? ’