tampered champagne - il dottore
Synopsis: You get poisoned at a fatui dinner party. -Anon request! MASTERLIST | Requests open btw! WC: Approx. 1.4k TAGLIST: @rasibelll
It was your first dinner amongst the Fatui, with Pantalone hosting an end-of-year banquet for the harbingers at his abode.
The marble columns glistened in the candlelight, and the crystals on the marvelous chandelier did so too, the divergence of light giving off a subtle yet radiant rainbow hue.
Other than that fact, it was an unassuming night, and an unassuming dinner with quiet jukebox music and delectable food.
And of course, the ever unassuming drink.
You stare at the glass of champagne on your right, the bubbles emerging seemingly out of nowhere, bringing motion to the pale gold liquid.
Pantalone, donning the ever extravagant suit, held up his glass, lightly tapping a silver encrusted spoon. His feather boa swayed with the motion.
You swirl the glass absentmindedly, paying attention to the speaker.
“We have encountered many challenges this year, notably the economic depression a few months ago caused by Osial’s attack on Liyue Harbour.”
Childe shifts nervously in his seat.
Pantalone continues, “However, as the year comes to a close, I am pleased to share that Snezhnaya’s economy has been in recovery, which was partially thanks to Rosalyne’s diplomatic efforts.”
A woman in a beautiful blonde updo, who you could only assume was Rosalyne smiles, dipping her head.
He smiles, “I look forward to more partnerships with the Geo Archon.”
“Also, we have a special guest with us today,” He points to the elephant in the room.
“Care to introduce yourself?”
You feel a plethora of stares on your person, of varying degrees of intensity. Some with potent interest, and some with mild intrigue.
Eyeing the sky blue-haired man beside you, you sigh, you didn’t expect to give an impromptu speech in front of Sneznahan Legends, who due to their enigmatic nature, were practically unheard of.
“Hi everyone, I was previously in Dottore’s cohort at the Akademiya, and now I’ll be working as an assistant for future projects.” You smooth over your suit jacket’s cuffs under the table, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Feeling the harbingers’ gazes on your person, and feeling a bit out of place, you took a sip from your ever draining champagne, but your eyes immediately darted to the person who spoke.
“I’m happy to share that Dottore’s new assistant has significantly improved our organisation’s turnout rate,” Pantalone smiled from ear to ear, “There have been less work-related injuries compared to previous data.”
A small stout man with an impressive nose clasped his hands. His golden eyes turned to Pantalone in agreement, “They seem to be a cost-effective addition to our team.”
You noticed Dottore’s lips pressing into a thin line.
“I do not appreciate my assistant being reduced to a tool.” He warned. You felt the rumble of his voice when he enunciated the vowels of his last word, as if it were a punctuation to a thinly veiled threat.
It kinda turned you on, but that’s besides the point.
Pantalone raised his hands in defeat, “My apologies, Doctor. I merely meant to applaud our newest member for their seemingly impossible accomplishment.”
The dinner goes on, but you feel strangely out of place.
Noticing your discomfort, Arlecchino cleared her throat.
You turn to your left, and she says, volume just enough for conversation between you both, “Welcome to the Fatui, I trust that Il Dottore has been treating you well?”
You smile, “Of course. I wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise.”
“Though him reaching out was quite a shock since I haven’t seen him for ages.”
“Hm? By what methods did he contact you?”
You held a piece of meat with your fork, ”He showed up in my room unannounced.”
“Well,” Arlecchino slices through her wine-simmered steak with ease, “We are quite the eccentric group.”
“That I can’t rebut,” You huffed.
Everyone goes on to finish their meals, cutlery and tableware clinking
As you finish your glass of champagne, you notice it going empty, and set it down.
A servant offers to refill your drink, and you dip your head in thanks.
“Enjoy your drink.” The servant smiles.
The fruity and tart notes wafted in the air, and you inhale the sharp scent.
Strange. It smells sharper than normal.
You don’t trust your judgement.
So you sip, the carbonated beverage lighting up your tastebuds like a round of fireworks. It seemed fine- must’ve been paranoia.
Swallowing the cold refreshing liquid was rejuvenating, making you more aware of your growing hunger.
You grow hot, your palms clammy.
You brush it off. Must’ve been the alcohol, I don’t drink much anyways, you reason.
You feel a tightness in your core, a curl of pain in your diaphragm, the thrumming of your heart, like you went for a run you couldn't handle.
Pressing the back of your fingers against your face, you feel for any change in temperature as you get dizzier by the second.
Wow, I’m burning up.
Vasodilation…
Dottore shifts, he notices your sudden change in demeanour.
He calls for you under his breath, and in your almost confused state, you are unable to give any response. Your heart beat so intensely that even his voice was drowned out, leaving you with little to no situational awareness.
The other harbingers detected the shift in atmosphere, but were unaware of the situation at hand.
Through gritted teeth, his calls grew more stern, more forceful, yet your eyes drooped. The moment you try to stand up to get more air into your system, you feel your body giving out.
You collapse on the floor, making the harbingers even more alarmed. Sandrone and Columbina gasped.
By that point he dropped all acts of control, and reached for his penlight. He knelt beside your body and shone the slim titanium torch into your eyes.
“Dialated pupils, no pupil reflex,” he notes, before feeling for your pulse,”elevated heart rate.”
“My partner has been poisoned.” He announced with finality and an edge. A warning.
You, with all your might, gave the man a weak squeeze as an attempt to reassure him that everything would be fine.
“I’ll be… fine..” You croaked, before passing out on the ground from tachycardia.
You wake up in a clean room, the sharp isopropyl alcohol scent stabbed at your lungs as you took a deep breath, wondering how long you had been out.
Footsteps nearing your cot, a male voice sighed, “You’re awake.”
You stare at the man in front of you in confusion.
Dottore frowned at your staring and crossed his arms, “Do you recognise me?” His fatui mask long discarded, showing his piercing red eyes.
You do, but you weren’t sure what you should say.
You remained quiet for a beat, looking at his worried expression.
He pouted slightly, and his brows knit together. You felt as if you should lighten up the mood.
“What, can’t I be in awe of your beauty?” You grinned, looking at him from top to bottom.
He huffed, “That’s not the focus of the topic at hand.” He walked towards you, and placed his hand on the bars on the side of the cot.
Only did he stand in close proximity with you, did you notice the minute yet obvious differences from his usual self. His unkempt hair, his ruffled collar, his oily skin, his unfocused eyes, his slight slouch.
He must’ve stayed awake monitoring your vitals.
“You were worried." You murmured, placing your dominant hand on his bare hand. He felt cold.
“You experienced syncope,” Dottore stated, “you were unconscious for three days..”
“There was a risk of damage to your cranial nerve. When you collapsed, your pupil reflex was interrupted. You were almost quadriplegic.” He stressed
You said weakly, ”I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Hush,” Dottore pressed a feather-like kiss against your temple, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.
He sat on the chair that was situated next to your bed, “Do not fret. The instigator has been taken care of.”
The next time you visit Pantalone's home, you never come across the servant again.
Fun fact: Syncope is pronounced “Sin-co-pee”