Back in Town

It's been a long time, you realize, as you step out the doors of the rentalhivestem. Your arms stretch lazily over your head as the moonlight beats down upon you and the other people wandering the street. You had all but finished your sweep long tour of Alternia, doing what you had promised to the empire in order to remain on planet. At the moment you were attending a rather intriguing Docterror's conference. Although, intriguing was the word you heard someone nearby you whisper. You'd call it absolute trash, stuff you already knew. In other words, the whole idea of the conference was hoofbeastshit. 

But it got you out and meeting fellow practitioners - or at least ones who had the gourds to show up. You had found in the past the events like these usually ended up with half of the attendees disappearing, and reappearing nights later having been experimented on by the more unstable attendants. But you usually left before all that fun began. 

You find yourself smiling as you head down the sidewalk, although you are on edge. But that is just your natural disposition, you had enough experience with the world to be wary of walking down any road, through any city with alleys. Because at any moment you could be pulled into one, threatened, or worse. Although they usually became the ones in trouble in the end.

You you most defently stand out among the crowd considering your height and the paint on you face. You are most defently wondering why you are here. Yes you want ancwers, but would it really be better to gather information from a random group or would it be better to corner a individual. You sigh and run your hands threw your hair as you adjust the eye patched that hid your cursed eye. The green and black orb was acting up again. A lot of things had been slightly off hence the reason you were here, trying to get the nerves to enter and start quizzing individuals all under the guise of being an apprentice laughssasin. Not that it would fool any one who was intamintly, or had been, with the carnival.

You take a hair tie from your pocket and hold it in your mouth as you the back your hair. You will need to re-dye it soon, the lime dye was growing out showing your gray roots. But now you just need to get it out of your face. You drop the tie as you cough. It's painful for sure, you snarl and turn your head to spit into the gutter before picking up your hair tie and tiring back your hair before walking inside.

It doesn't take you long to make it to the convention center and in through the doors. You show your pass, indicating that you are meant to be there. You love doing that, feeling so official. To be fair you are pretty official as it is. You are a licensed docterror - An official person who is paid by the crown to cut into folks and learn what makes them tick. You love that - despite your methods not being something that they would be keen on if they knew.

You're too busy greeting some familiar faces when you walk into him. This tall troll, who seems rather out of place, now that you are flat on your ass and staring up at him. Your cheeks are flushed in humiliation - well there goes your cool and collected and always together appearance. You can hear chuckling from some of the bluebloods and you stare daggers at them. 

What interests you about this tall troll, however, is the fact that he is painted, that he is purple. There is only one other purpleblooded docterror in attendance and this is not him. 

"Ʈerribly sorry. I didn'Ʈ uh..See you Ʈhere."

You alright there sistah?

You ask turning and holding out a hand to help her up. You wiped your hand against your pants before holding it out. Despite the fact that it was cool inside the convention center you were sweating like it was deep summer inside. Your face is mostly painted white with your cheeks painted a royal Tyrian shade in the shape of triangles. It was a bit of a mirrical that it was not running into your eyes. A shiver goes down your spine as if you were cold. You are wearing a more casual form of your armor, a light weight leather tunic with the imperial crest stamped into the hardened leather of the shoulder peice. It's the only peace of armor you have on. You have a couple of knives tucked at the side in leather loops attached to the tunic. You aren't dressed for any battle, just for showing a bit of imperial presence.

You take his hand, appreciating the help up. It takes you a moment though, as he's hauling you back to your feet to notice that strange thing there, that his hand is strangely warm for someone of your caste. How his pupils are dilated, and the sweat that is already beginning to coat the palm of his hand as you make it to your feet and brush yourself off, smiling at him in thanks.

"Fine, Ʈhank you...Uh...brother." Crap, how long had it been since you spoke to someone still wearing paint? You had to act cool here, even though the very idea of the paint makes you feel so uncomfortable, like it is a constant reminder of what you did.

He's dressed rather formally and you find yourself raising an eyebrow at that. You're sure he's not a guard, you would have noticed him before. It's peculiar, really, and that topped with his current shivers has you a little more than concerned. But you chalk it up to the outfit he's wearing among the sea of people and not to what is niggling in the back of your mind - that perhaps he is sick.

You yourself are dressed rather formally as well. The high-collared ensemble draping you in swaths of black and your own blood color. Normally you would be wearing pants, maybe a casual shirt, but this was one of the last days of the event and it was rule of thumb to dress smartly. So skirt and top that made it almost impossible to lower your head were key. 

There's a silence between the two of you as he stands, looking at you, and you force another smile through tight lips. 
"WhaƮ brings you here? You surely aren't a docƮerror. You would have been here for Ʈhe resƮ of Ʈhe conference."

Overseein' the security forces, boss tells me to do it so I just up and do it ya know? Don't wanta get me head chopped off.

It was a simple cover. The simple ones usually make the best and you didn't need to really do anything but look a bit on guard as you wandered about. All you had to do was remember what it was like back in your training days. Even as tall as you are, you could still pass in the age-group for the 'undecided ones.'

You keep that relaxed smile on your face. This troll was defiantly older then you, most of the trolls here were. A gathering of DocTerrors from around the planet to talk among like minds. It was the reason you came after all. You were just here to gather information on different types of poisons.

Stay safe now sistah.

You give one last smile before moving off, hands in your pockets. There had been a official map outside on the building. Everyone had been grouped into specilites, there were some venders, some people renting booths to talk from, you were headed for the poison and antidote makers. Maybe you could pick their brains for some clues before you felt too shity to continue.

That makes sense. You suppose. He does appear to be young enough to still be one of the ones who merely followed blindly and hadn't decided where they'd be. You smile thinly, remembering your days like that. They were few, but tumultuous. It wasn't long after you joined the carnival that you wer epicked up by the sibilators, so you didn't have long to worry about your future or lack thereof. 

"Oh, well I hope Ʈhere won'Ʈ be much Ʈrouble for you ƮonighƮ, you look posiƮively exhausƮed." You reach out to touch his arm. It could be taken as a sympathetic gesture, which is what you are trying for - But you never know how people will react. 

With that contact you slip into his mind for just a moment, probing to see the cause of his apparent tiredness. Well, that made more sense. You smiled reassuringly, which was something you hardly ever did. And then he moved away, with a farewell that was uncommon with your caste. 

"And you, brother." 

You then wander of in your own direction. You have a talk to give...On poisons, actually...since the original speaker had miraculously disappeared overday.

Apparently there was some sort of, what did they call those things, panel on poisons. You look over the flyer that had been shoved into your hands by some lowblooded wriggler, one face had been scratched out an a name written underneath. DT. Amthea Faunus. That name looked familiar, it's a pity you are feeling a bit pan fried. You are starting to get a headache and sitting in a darkened panel room sounds like a good idea. You start heading in that direction and find yourself a seat in the back, under a cool-air vent.

You're sweating under the heavily lights that point at the stage. Their heat beating down on you. You're not used to hosting these things and frankly you're a little nervous. The room isn't even that full, not that you can tell from the glare of the lights, but still you're fumbling with the cue cards the previous speaker had left for you. 

You walk out in front of the crowd, force a smile on...deep breath and...

"Good Evening everyone. My name is Amthea Faunus. I have been a docterror for going on eight sweeps. In that time I have seen my fair share of patients, and one thing that is overly popular in this night and age is poison." Deep breath, you're doing great. "Now, unfortunately, Docterror Rectin has left us early, and I have been tasked with taking over this panel from him. So please excuse me if I get a little bit out of sorts."

Some chuckling. Good. Even if they're being condescending at least you got them to listen to you.

"Now, I'm going to go over the top ten most common kinds so that you know what to look out for. Then we'll head into the proper panel where I will endeavor to answer any and all questions you may have. So, without further ado..." You take the remote for the projector in hand, clicking it once to move to the first slide.

"Hemlock or Conium is a highly toxic flowering plant indigenous to Southern Alternia. It was a popular one with the ancient Alternian adults before the uprising, who used it to kill off their prisoners. For an 8 sweep old or older, the ingestion of 100mg of conium or about 8 leaves of the plant is fatal – death comes in the form of paralysis, your mind is wide awake, but your body doesn’t respond and eventually the respiratory system shuts down. At this point there is no cure."

You keep going. Smile still in place, all sharp teeth and threats in case anyone wants to interrupt. You cover the other poisons; Aconite, Belladonna, Ricin, Tetrodotoxin, Polonium, Mercury, Cyanide, before you get to the last one. You're panting, exhausted from wandering up and down the stage. You stand back in the centre now, hands behind your back, breathing deeply as you recite the final poison.

"And finally, one of the most popular poisons at this current time is Arsenic. Arsenic has been called “The King of Poisons”, for its discreetness and potency – it was virtually undetectable, so it was very often used either as a murder weapon or as a mystery story element. But that’s until the Marsh test came and signalled the presence of this poison in water, food and the like. However, this king of poisons has taken many famous lives: Troll Napoleon Bonaparte, and Troll Simon Bolivar to name a few. On another note, arsenic, like belladonna, was used by the ancient Alternians for cosmetic reasons. A couple of drops of the stuff made a woman’s complexion clear and pale, which at the time was the height of fashion. Just perfect!"

Then you stand, waiting, patient. You're nervous that you won't be able to answer any questions, but you'll do your best.

You listen intently. Some of this you already know from your laughsassin training. You personally are not a fan of using poisons to eliminate a target, but sometimes it was just the most sensible way. The use of poisons were becoming more popular again, how many times have you seen a poisoner's shop in the city? It was perfectly legal trade in the Empire, a taxable lucrative trade.

As the prestidigitation part quiets down you think a bit on the information you had gathered. You were not under the effects still of any poison. Quick thinking by your matespirit had taken care of that but, you were still feeling after effects, perhaps permanent side effects.

What about modern synthetic poisons?

You ask when you finally get a chance. It was closer to the end of the panel.

There has been a rise in the use of compounds made from properties of each of the base plants and elements. What sort of damage do you expect to see by one who had been effected by such a compound, other then the obvious death of course.

A couple of people had turned to look at you. There were defently confused looks on their faces. You had dropped the 'Carnival Accent' completely. A spot light turns to shine in your face so that the docterrers on stage could get a good look at you and you blink a few times from the bright light. This was wonderful for your headache and the heat from the light was making you even more uncomfortable. It was a unsurprising for you that as she answered your question you started to feel lightheaded before completely losing consciousness.

You spend the better part of a half hour discussing poisons with the people who bothered to show up for the panel. You take some questions while the others take the rest. You're actually enjoying yourself. Usually you'd cover talks on genetics, or powers, but this was actually interesting.

Near the end the subjugglator from earlier is hit by the lights, and you find yourself squinting as he speaks. Gone is the drawl common of your caste, of the little mannerisms that announced what he was. Your lips purse together, watching as he sways in the spotlight.

"Well it depends on the dosage; but it is highly possible for the victim to survive with severe mental or physical damage, or for-"

He topples, eyes rolling back in his head. It's a good thing there is a sorry lack of attendance because in any other circumstances the others would have swept upon him like vultures.

You stand from your place at the panel table, vaulting over it and down from the stage as you move over to him, pulling off your coat as you go. When you reach him you slide it under his head to elevate it before pressing your ear to his chest. Yes, his blood pusher is still going...You sigh in relief, muttering.
"Now why didn't you just ask for help, you fool..?"

You've said it before, you are an idiot. A thick headed idiot who was going to get killed becouse you went into a situation alone and recklessly. For example, not telling your matesprite or morail you were going to the city when you should be laying in your hive recovering from the poisoning attempt that has left you in this pathetic weakened state. 

Your blood pusher beats irraticly at times, making it difficult for you to breathe. It is like a heavy weight on your chest. You don't know where you are when you open your eyes again. Your head is still throbbing painfully. Did you hit it maybe ass you passed out? That is a nother thing that was stupid, your rediculous low tolerance to heat. A low groan comes from your mouth.

You're staring. You need to stop doing that, or at least realize that you are, especially in these situations. When he passed out at the conference you had to practically carry him out of there while fending off the others. They were like vultures when fresh meat dropped right in front of them. So you took him back to your rental hive, knowing that he'd be safe there, at least from the others. He's been unconscious for a while since then - maybe for half the day, and you'd been awake for all of it, continuously checking his vitals. 

He needed to sweat out the remaining poison, to deal with the weakness that had overcome him due to being exposed. You'd ended up having to clean off his paint because of this fact. You'd always found that the paint clogged your pores and made it harder for your skin to breathe, it made it almost impossible to sweat and more often than not you were sick because of it. He'll probably be mad that his paint is gone, but you had reason, and as a doctor you had to do what you could to make sure he ended up fine. 

"Keep your head down." You whisper from the chair you are perched in, still staring. "You'll want to ease into getting up, you're pretty weak right now."

The voice startles you. You want your knives, but you can't seem to find them or your light armor. In fact you had to double check you were wearing pants and this was not some sort of weird fever dream and that you were not in your hive stuck in a delusion. You blink a few times and rub your eyes. Shit your head hurts, so does your chest. A cough makes you roll on to your side and you spit up a glob of... something. You know know what it is, you've been coughing up that foul tasting shit ever since that sea dweller poisoned your drink.

Guess I should thank ya for saving my ass.

You speak slowly as you lay back down. You recognize her, the docterror who bumped into you on the way into the convention. Still, you wish you had thought to capatalouge one of your knives instead of leaving them hanging off your armor. Not that they would do much good, your arms and legs feel so stiff and heavy.

"I was just doing my job, Aarush." You smile ever so slightly. You had checked his ID when you had brought him here and made him comfortable on the sofa. It helped to have the names of those you were treating. You'd left a business card in his wallet at the time as well, in case he needed to speak to you after this was all finished up. 

Your eyes shift to the glob of gunk he has coughed up onto the floor, eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"You got pretty badly poisoned, I gather. I'm surprised you're still alive, to be perfectly honest. But that explains your interest in poisons at least." You lean forward in the chair you are perched on, eyes almost glowing in the low light, though that is far from possible. "And yet you were out and about. Why is that? What was so important you couldn't stay hive and recover?"  

How...?

How did she know your name? Did she use some voodoo on you? If so she must be quite skilled to cut threw the noisy mess of your mind. Or she just checked your ID, you were registered in both the Fleet and Planet database a docterror would have access to such things. You cough again as she continues to talk.

Yeah... Thought I was hunting one sea-bitch... turned out to be two.

You lay back catching your breath.

My red is brilliant... I'm alive because of her, her antidotes. I thought I would be able to get some answers, some information then be back hive before the sun even started to cast light. I know... I'm a idiot.

It was progressing again. You can feel it starting to lock up the mussels in your arms and legs, making them weak and both painful to move. It was not designed to kill you directly from what you could tell, but make a prison of your body. As much as the docterror had saved you, you still do not know if she would cull you if she deemed you unfit. If it came to that... You feel familiar and comforting whispers at the edge of your mind. The spirits were always willing to help you.

You're still smiling, even moreso at his dazed and surprised expression.
"Your ID. Aarush Dasura, age 11. There were several notes on your profile when I looked you up, but I'm not at liberty to share." And there's the grin. You're teasing, trying to make light of a dark situation, but you aren't exactly lying either. 

At mention of a seadweller being the one who poisoned him you clasp your hands together. 
"It's possible that they used some naturally occuring poisons in their habitat. Have you considered jellyfish or other poisonous marine life assisting there? I can't really give a proper diagnosis without knowing symptoms anyway..." 

His breathing is labored, which makes you stand, moving to the sofa carefully, eyebrows knitted in concern as you take one of his hands to read his pulse. It's stuttering. Strange, is it circulating again?
"She sounds like a good matesprit then, if she cares enough to keep you alive." You smile at him, hoping for reassuring, possibly ending up slightly creepy. 

"Can you tell me what you are feeling right now? Your vitals are acting up again."

You manage a slight smile as she rattles off your information. Well that just confirmed what you had thought. You think on what she says for a few moments. Jellyfish or other marine life, it had occurred to you but you did not quite known enough for your knowledge to be useful. As it was things were a bit fuzzy in your head right now. Most likely thanks to the poison doing what ever it was doing to your lungs.

Yeah... Don't know what I'd do with out her.

You wince as she takes your hand. Your nerves firing off a painful symphony into your brain.

It hurts...

You weakly try to take your arm back. Your breathing picks up into soft gasps, you cough again and again.