• Graded • Wyeb: Such Puppets

A trial marked with mass ingestion of poisonous plants

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Keegan
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Joined: Tue Jun 13, 2017 11:48 pm
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Wyeb: Such Puppets

50th of Ymiden , 517

Located at the far tip of Rhakros lay a narrow street, lined with a row of even narrower shops. It was this corner of the city that lay quiet, free of the falling water at the cliffs, free of the hum of early risers and foot commuters. This corner was quiet, unmoving. A dormant street and a dormant building. And that’s just the way she preferred it.

Keegan sat at her work desk, a plain but large utility table that housed various tools and curiosities stuffed into glass jars. Copperleaf, Indian turnip. The dusty roots of a wormwood, and the bright, vulgar clusters of the butterfly weed. They were all pristinely kept and fashioned in tight rows, just so. Just so. A gaunt hand reached for another neatly cut label, and she grabbed the feather quill from it’s place and scribbled the last word, the nib painting inky black gouache in elegant loops and undulations.
Tassel flower.
Emilia coccinea
They had always been her favorites, the flowers, though she was wise enough to keep that pleasure to herself. Toxins of all types were her deepest fixation, but it was the flowers that she spent just two extra trills on. It was those chapters on the flowering plants that were reread of her own will, and the flowers that she handled with most care. What a curiosity, that something so delicate and unassuming at first blush, could be something else entirely. It was fitting, really, and those same gaunt hands fastened the label to the glass with short, trimmed nails. She was tipping the vial from side to side, watching the petals flatten as they pressed against the glass when she heard him.

”Keegan.” His voice was flat and impatient, a tone he reserved only when she had not answered him the first time he had called her. He was standing over her now, a grizzled shell of a man that was not even handsome in his youth, that much was certain. He stood erect, though even at his best posture Barlow Baynard’s shoulders cowed and his spine rounded as a fish hooks might. Despite his impatience, he did not encroach her space, but she could feel his presence spilling into hers nonetheless.

”I am not finished.” Was what she replied with. Labeling and jarring was not an exciting task, but it was tolerable enough, and more productive than what Baynard was proposing.

”You’ll finish when we’re done. For the Daughter.” And dirtied hands deposited a collection of greenery atop the desk, Keegan’s jaw tightening as it did. Baynard was not as thorough when it came to preparing plants as she, and a crumble of dirt littered her otherwise polished station.

The Daughter can wait, is what she’d think, but she’d pick out the aucuba, and the barberry. The begonia, and the jimson weed. There was a painted nonchalance to the gesture of sorting, a forced indifference. Keegan was not often put off, but being interrupted was something that caused a stir in the weave of her emotion. And after all, one did not argue or test Barlow Baynard, not on Wyeb and not any trial.

And while the woman would not outwardly rebel, the aucuba rolled lazily between her fingers, blue eyes idle as a few more chunks of dirt were freed from the root. It was Baynard’s carelessness that would require her to sweep again, and she took a moment in silence to allow the irritation of this settle. It was rare that she grew bothered by the old man, but it was most unfortunate she would be interrupted like this, an entire trial lost for devotion.

Despite this, the woman found inwardness, working through the tangle of her own emotion to preserve what little sense of calm was left. She thought of the flow of the quill, and the tassel flower, and she could feel the palest of blue. The color of calm. Using strum, the thread of calm was woven closer to the surface of the tangle, encouraging a placid mood even after the effects of the plants had metabolized.

”She’ll find me able.” She said, and the barberry was popped into her mouth. ”And I will finish.” The statement was curt, delivered with a sort of sharpness that sounded more like a threat than a promise. The begonia and jimson weed followed shortly after, down the hatch and into the girl’s belly.
Last edited by Keegan on Sun Oct 08, 2017 4:03 pm, edited 2 times in total. word count: 759
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Keegan
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Wyeb: Such Puppets


Jimson weed leaves were bitter and coarsely toothed, but other than that vastly unimpressive. She would pluck them from their stem idly and one by one, feasibly toying with the procrastination just a trill longer, or perhaps just considering it's taste. It was the weed’s fruit that was the predominant force behind the plant, the seeds of which housed toxins that based many of Keegan’s initial mixtures. They were egg shaped and finely spined, and the smallest pull from her fingertips severed the noxious fruit from it's stem.

Baynard was already conducting separate business at the far end of the room, but not before a gruff ”Aye.” Most trials he seemed to teeter between callous indifference and mild irritation, but Keegan had not noticed this disposition before he had sent her away. His color was often a dull blue, sometimes flickering between a murky crimson and often times both at once, nearly mimicking hue of the sticky river mud that lined the banks of Rhakros itself.

The egg shaped fruit finally made it into her mouth, it’s needles threatening to cut and scratch before the woman even fixed her jaw. It lolled against her tongue at first, but deciding the only alternative would be shame, the woman bit down. Even the strum of calm could not keep her placated, and a searing pain shot from the roof of her mouth to the back of her throat, radiating through her arms to the tips of her fingers.

Shoulders tensed, her nearest hand bracing against the table. Pain was not something she reveled in, but it was a necessity at times, and she bit down again. And now the bitterness of the jimson weed accompanied another taste, one of iron and blood. At this, she perked visibly, swiftly gathering an empty vial and uncorking.

The Plaguedaughter had not been in the woman’s life forever, but long enough to seed an appetite for research. It was the spark of curiosity that consumed her next, and she spit a mash of jimson fruit and her own blood into the vial, before swallowing the rest. It would be recorked and returned back in it’s place, neighboring just right of the tassel flower.

The next half break was made up of the dusting of her station, the sweeping of her floor. It was tedious work such as this that allowed for passive focus, a valuable emotion to keep in your tangle as far as Kee was concerned. She sorted through the dulling pain of her mouth, seeking for that passive blue. It would be fastened closer to the top of her tangle just as the calm had, and she would sit with both of these feelings. She was soothed for now, and settled back into her work chair.

The quill was dipped into the ink again,
Jimson Fruit with seeds, blood, saliva
Untested
The label was blown dry, fastening it to the newest piece in her collection. But her hands shook, and it stuck uneven across the glass. It was the barberry of course, announcing it’s arrival in her bloodstream. The fever would come next, but she had a quarter break before it found her.
word count: 545
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Keegan
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Wyeb: Such Puppets

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The trills moved slowly on the day of Wyeb, as if the Plaguedaughter herself was pulling on the strings of time. Keegan fantasized over this briefly, imagining the Immortal with the short black hair and straight body of a child tugging those threads gently, toying with them as a cat might bat at a mouse. That’s what they said anyway, of the way that Lisirra chose to present herself to her people. A child, just a girl really. Just like Keegan's delicate flowers, the young girl was unassuming just at first blush. In truth, she was something else entirely.

The fantasy had swept her away, for just a quarter break or so if she would guess. It had brought fixation just long enough for her blood to grow hot, and tiny beads of sweat clung to her forehead, much like condensation on an abandoned glass. She swallowed, forgetting the quill and the ink, focusing instead on the fever that ran through her. She removed herself from her work desk, the stiff chair creaking its protest as it scraped against the wooden floor underneath her.

”Barberry.” Baynard had heard her stand, and while Keegan’s back was still to the man, she could imagine the flat expression on his face, nose deep in a book as he sunk deeply into the plush reading chair.

”Yes.” Her voice was just breath now, regretting skipping breakfast. Regretting the barberry, and all the fire that now burned within her. ”A quarter break, half the time as last arc.” And her hands were beginning to shake now, but not from the barberry’s fever or the jimson weed's sharp spines. It was not even the aucuba, and thin fingers filtered through the rows of glass jars, until finally finding a clear liquid. She uncorked it promptly, the quiver growing more threatening with every chill, ready to consume her as it often did if she did not proffer her ailment quickly. A dirty rag was brought to the mouth of the glass, shaking the liquid into the cloth with one, two, three shakes, never four. It was then that the rag was pressed against her mouth, Keegan inhaling deeply until her hands found stillness again.

”You skipped breakfast.” Baynard corrected her, and it was clear he had still not lifted his nose from his book, otherwise she would have been scolded for the chloroform too.

”Yes.” She said. It was not worth mentioning she had already sorted this out, if not because it was not wise to argue with Barlow Baynard, than because the jimson weed had arrived. The small study rippled in and out of focus as the jimson weed got to work on the woman’s nervous system, blurring her vision and drying out her mouth in unison. ”The jimson weed is potent this season.” But it was getting harder to keep the conversation light, her voice cracking in inflection from a neutral pitch, to something more pained.

Baynard would not leave his book.

Wyeb was the same every arc. Keegan would struggle to remain complacent and collected, while soaking herself in sweat and suffering illness of all sorts. Eventually, she would submit to the toxins, expelling them anyway she knew how to, with Baynard cleaning her up after the suns fell. The entire trial would be wasted, and she would have twice as much work the next trial to keep up. It seemed labelling jars would be the only thing she would be efficient with tomorrow, with Wyeb hangover and all.

But Baynard, he had not yet left his book, and looked neither pale nor distraught.

Keegan tried to swallow, but it was as if she had a mouth full of sand, as dry as it had become. ”You are not ill yet.” She said dumbly, before stumbling into the chair she had just been sitting in moments prior.

”Aye.” Baynard said gruffly. ”I ate breakfast.”
Last edited by Keegan on Tue Oct 03, 2017 5:14 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 656
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Keegan
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Wyeb: Such Puppets

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”Yes.” Of course. Breakfast. His face became a ripple of wrinkled skin and wiry hair, and soon even the edges of his person became muffled and hard to read. It was not soon after that the entire room blended together in a fever ridden, Wyeb induced cloud of toxins.

She was blind for now, but she was still standing. So there was that.

”You were ambitious with the aucuba, Keegan.” His voice seemed clearer now, more crisp with the temporary deprivation of sight. Her hands fumbled for the chair beside her, brushing fingers along its back before grasping for the closest bookshelf.

”The aucuba has not found me yet, Satux.” Her weight shifted against the bookshelf, finding comfort in the smoothness of it’s wood, in the pages that it held. ”I cannot see.” She stated.

”Ahh…” It was one of those noises that could make one second guess if the speaker had been paying attention at all, and if Keegan were a betting woman, she would put her nel on ‘no’.

”The jimson weed is strong this season.” He said.

”Yes.” It was a shame, that Keegan was not the betting type. The bookshelf guided her further into the small shop, until she was groping clumsily at an end table by the hearth. The fever persisted, but she found her eyes well enough to sort through the books there, finding the Encyclopedia of Natural Toxins and pressing it firmly against her chest. ”I think I, just need some air.”

There was silence, so Keegan dismissed herself, fumbling her way toward the door. Her fingers were curling around the knob before the old man spoke again

”You’ll be hard pressed for fresh air out there, mexr. But go on then.”

***

He was right.

Keegan only needed to open the door before she was hit with an unrelenting heat, though the weather outside put her oddly at ease with the fever that had not yet broke. Her corner of the jungle city was lined with narrow streets, but she would find those usually quiet streets sprinkled with people. She passed a small group of them, a couple laying across the cobblestone babbling to themselves. Two others stood and eyed her in passing, pupils as large as saucers. Drug induced wanderers she assumed, those who used this day of worship for recreation, instead of research. ”In her name.” They spouted off to her, and Keegan mumbled the words back.

She passed a greying woman, clutching her purse and stomach with just as much fervor. It was certain she was in pain, and only seemed to notice the pale haired woman after she nearly walked into her. ”In her name.” The old woman voiced, but she scuttled off before Kee could repeat the words back.

Another day of Wyeb, another arc of blind faith. The poisoner was not born into the world with a religious mind, but circumstances had brought her here, poisoning herself and on the verge of deep illness in a dirty street, in the middle of the jungle. Blind faith.

”Such puppets.” She sneered, condemning the wanderers and the greying woman. Condemning Barlow Baynard.

She keeled forward then, Encyclopedia still tight against her chest as she thrust her longest finger down her throat.

Today would be the last for blind faith.
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Kali'rial
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Wyeb: Such Puppets

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Keegan

Overview

Oh my gosh I loved this thread. Your description of Keegan falling to the poisons toxins is fantastic, and Baynards indifference is just so perfect. I actually wanted to keep reading more! Really hope I get to review more from you! :)

Points

XP: 10/10 (Can be used for Magic)

Fame: N/A

Loot/Injuries/Overstepping

Vomiting and diarrhoea (1 trial), dehydration (1 trial), stomach pain (1 trial) and weakness from poisoning (3 trials). Blindness from Jimson weed (3 trials) with lingering light sensitivity for another 2 trials after that. Hallucinations (1 trial). General hangover symptoms including poor judgement (2 trials)

Knowledge

Skill Knowledge:
Poisons: Ingesting barberry causes fevers
Poisons: Ingesting jimson weed causes blurred vision & dry mouth
Poisons: Jimson weed by blood stream causes temporary blindness
Lisirra: Looks like a small girl with black hair
Empathy: Strumming calm for stressful situations
Discipline: Allowing interruptions in order to finish obligations

Other Knowledge:
N/A
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