RP:All Time Low

Part of the The End's Not Near Arc

Summary: Reginae and Muzo discuss an alternate plan for seeking out the odd source of magic behind the recent assassination attempt.

Throne Room

Reginae had been doing quite a bit of thinking. Oh my yes, how her brain clicked and whirled around the various shadows and secrets that swirled through the inky void behind her eyelids. Hureig had planted a seed in her brain. The seed of possibility. Possibili-seed. And how it took root, squirming it's way into her day to day duties. A jolt of brilliance here, a volt of madness there. It had all the makings of a successful but dangerous plan. That combination always brought the naga's mind back to Muzo. He knew things. Things that could make this line of thinking possible. After most of the palace staff had slithered off to their chambers, Regi moved silently through the dim light in search of her beloved (dare she??) companion in secrets and science. “Muzo?” She whispers his name into what she perceives to be empty space before turning into another dimly lit room to repeat the action. So far, unsuccessful. But how could she expect improved results without continuing the experiment with different variables? “Muzo?”

Muzo peers around a corner. "Heard you calling. Came looking at once." Moments ago, the researcher had been busily taking notes on his most recent and most fascinating specimen, but notes can certainly wait; the homunculus won't be going anywhere on its own anytime soon. Hopefully. Foot by foot, he glides through the doorway and into view, robes and all, Formulae fluttering in tow, as usual. Muzo offers a polite bow, and though he tries to subdue his smile, the alchemist can't seem to keep himself from grinning delightedly in Reginae's presence. Ah well, it's a minor breach in decorum anyway. "Do hope there's nothing amissss." His inky blacks find her icy blues, but they bashfully snap away again. It's been pleasant, to say the least, spending more time in the palace now that his experiments have found their way into the dusty halls.

Reginae spun around, her torso moving to face his reply while her white scales remained perfectly in place beneath her. Her hair is pulled back, braided at the temple and clasped in the perfect center of her skull, leaving the braid to trail the remaining length atop it's perfectly unbraided siblings. A sigh of relief, hand pressed her black robes against her chest while she exhales and that relief spreads into a smile. “Muzo,” she says by way of introduction, no longer a question whispered into darkness. Her excitement was impossible to contain, it dripped from her fingertips as she approached him, keeping her voice an intimate hush that bubbled over it's intended volume more than once. Her pale digits fiddle with their counterparts on her opposing hand while she regarded Muzo with large, consuming eyes. “I want you to help me find a way to kill myself.” She tried to whisper calmly, the tail end of her request spilling over into a mad chuckle. This plan was utterly perfect, and best of all...it meant more secrets that the naga could share together. Better secrets that babies in bloody bell jars. “More accurately, poison.” She clarified, without really clarifying the situation at hand. Those bright eyes of hers watch his, hands continuing to fidget in the air, fueled by the electricity of possibility.

Muzo is plainly eager to be of assistance, and he is already nodding his assent when the conversation does an utter backflip. "Beg your pardon?" The alchemist blinks a little dazedly, to stunned to drop his grin yet and fairly certain he had to have misheard. Briskly, he shakes his head and gives his forehead a few gently taps. "Heard you wrong. You meant to say?" Expectantly, both scaly brows raise, and he gives a tittering little laugh even as his eyes narrow in concerned suspicion. "Funniest thing. Thought I heard you say you meant to poison yourself. Fatally." Not that it would be DIFFICULT to do, but Muzo doubts a naga royal would need his help accomplishing such. More importantly (Muzo internally reiterates as his tail begins to curl toward her) there will be no tragedies today on his watch. Best get to the bottom of this, and quickly.

Reginae watches Muzo's reaction with a lapse of confusion. She's nodding eagerly. “Yes, precisely. I was thinking of something simple, obviously consuming something would take time...perhaps there's a way to embed the poison into a...necklace? That pierces through the skin and gets into the blood stream directly. We don't want to waste a lot of time...” She mumbles, audibly, into the space between them. His tail goes unnoticed but she does reach out to grab his hands if they are in reach to squeeze them lightly in her excitement. “It's perfect, It's perfect.” Shaking her head, spidersilk strands scatter her shoulders. “It will have to do the whole shebang,” She adds, “Lack of pulse, a quick fluid shift into unconsciousness. Hopefully I won't be on a stage of any sort...we'll need to plan the event very carefully to prevent actual injury, you understand. It has to be convincing and I'd trust you with my very life so why not also put my death into your very capable hands?” Still no proper explanation has been offered but some clues have snuck their way into her dialogue.

Muzo is visibly bewildered, and he squints dead level with Regi, leaning in ever closer. Even as she grabs his hands, he is busy scrutinizing her. No pupillary dilation, (his grasp slides in to clasp her wrists) pulse appears normal, speech is unslurred, (gives a firm tug on her arm) no sign of impaired balance. "Trust you haven't made any... attempts already?" Reaching into the folds of his robes, Muzo quickly procures a loupe and stuffs it into his own eye, forgetting personal boundaries as he reaches up to begin poking and prodding at her face (presuming she allows it) checking her eyelids, etc, for any sign of illness or intoxication.

Reginae scrunches her face like his suggestion is ludicrous. “Why would I try on my own? I'd botch the whole thing. No no, it has to be you. You're the only one who can do it!” Now he's tugging her around and poking her face. He's starting to earn some questionable glances from him. “Muzo?” She asks, at one point where he's extremely close to her face, examining her eyes. “Muuuuzo? What are you doing?” This is big news! So why is he distracted from her brilliant plan? It's mildly insulting.

Muzo hums in dissatisfaction as he finds nothing wrong, well, nothing APPARENTLY wrong. What is he doing? "Making sure you aren't under a foreign influence." Taking her gently by the chin, he leans to study her left, side, then her right. "Doubt you are, as far as I can tell." His face falls, distressed. "Though, admittedly, I'd somewhat hoped you were." Straightening sternly, Muzo folds his arms over his chest and gives Reginae a reproachful look indeed. "Very glad to see you've approached me first, but to see you downright gleeful at the prospect, well," his tongue flickers in agitation, "speaks ill of great deal." Plucking the loupe back out from his eye, he goes on. "Will take no part. Will not supervise, will not advise, will not facilitate," for the first time, Regi can see the yellow edges of his iris as his pupils narrow instinctively, "a suicide, least of all your own."

Reginae flushes as Muzo manipulates her chin, her eyes darting away to endure his examination. When all is revealed to be in order, he refuses. Her jaw slacks, mouth agape. “You have to.” She pleads, “If you don't something could go terribly wrong and I could get hurt. We just have to devise a convincing poison that...” Here is where the imaginary light bulb illuminates overhead and her eye's widen with recognition of their miscommunication. She'd released his hands so he could poke her face but now she tries to take them back with a noticeable softness. “Not a real suicide. A farce.” She looks down at their hands, lids obscuring his face from view. “Did you think I was so unhappy as to wish myself....” A beat, while she clears her throat. “Elsewhere?”

Muzo raises a brow, studying Reginae's expression of dawning epiphany before her fingers find his and, aha, the realization turns contagious. "Oh, ah, erm-that-is, you," his expression relaxes, and embarrassment creeps upon him. There's a moment when he opens his mouth and only a squeak comes out. Muzo clears his throat and tries again. "Will admit, it was very unexpected. Makes much more sense, now, realizing your uhm, ah, farcical intentions." But wait. This means there's a great deal more explaining left to do. "So then," he blinks and looks up again, no longer concerned, but rather confused, "why is it you would stage a suicide?”

Reginae releases his hands and crosses her arms thoughtfully. “I want to draw out whoever means to assassinate me by causing a convincing death in a public setting. So we could gather more information about them while their magic is weak enough to conquer....” She frowns. “Do you...think it's a bad plan?” Her brow continues to furrow with concern.

Muzo looks taken aback. An assassination? "I see." Sensing this rabbit hole will only lead him ever deeper, Muzo begins to content himself in a position of ignorance. "Good enough to know that you mean yourself no real harm," he breathes a sigh of relief. Formulae, who had been hovering uneasily by the doorway, spreads it pages to glide gracefully over to its master. "Might please you to know," Muzo licks his finger and skims through the tome, "that I've already devoted some amount of study to the topic." A sardonic laugh escapes him. "Was, in fact, in the middle of a torpor experiment when the timeline faulted. Made for a rather jarring awakening." The recollection prompts some tongue clicking and head wagging.

Reginae blinks. “Oh, that's right. I remember you talking about that quite a while ago...” Two years now wasn't it? When they met in the gardens in front of the Palace. When Formulae flutters in, Reginae smiles in the tome's direction. “Sorry for not explaining myself first. I was excited about arriving at a plan, finally.” Her nervous laughter fills the dim hall with temporary warmth. “So you think it's probably?” That's encouraging. Now that the ice breaker of their stranger conversation had concluded, she felt...strange. They'd been talking mostly work lately but it was reassuring to know he was nearby, working at the palace too. “I won't keep you.” She smiled, rubbing her palms on the sides of her tail, looking around the low lit room for something to observe. Awkwardly. The homunculus was weighing on her mind.

Muzo mouths a silent "ah" at the memory of the water gardens. He had, indeed, told her before, some years past. "Delighted to assure you," he grabs the Formulae and turns it around so that Regi can see, "that I share your excitement. Something like this, then?" It's a multi panel cartoon: Regi slithers along, a couple figures in scarves and hoods pop out of a bush and shoot her with a blow guns, Regi's eyes turn to a couple of X's, she flops down with her tongue lolling out, and the two assassins high five. "And then we just..." Muzo turns the page, revealing the next set of stylized panels: Muzo slithers up to the X-in-eyes Regi, takes out a bottle and conspicuously shows it off (complete with sparkly accent lines), then takes it and unceremoniously upends it over her, whereupon she pops up with exclamation points, soaked but otherwise unharmed. The two high five. "Easy as 1,2,3." Muzo snaps the book shut and gives a crisp, decisive nod, smiling as though they've already pulled it off.

Reginae watches the tiny play among the pages unfold with amusement. He made it sound so simply. It's reassuring. “One minor adjustment?” She suggests. “We'd like to make sure it happens -before- any other assassins get a chance to try and summon lightening bolts. So if possible, could we put the poison in...” Reginae thinks for a moment, eyes rolling up to the shadowed ceiling in search of spiders with answers. “An otherwise benign object? Say...a necklace that might piece the skin and deliver the poison directly?” Odd suggestion but...just roll with her here Muzo. It's gonna get slippery. She watches the male with anticipation, a fresh course of anxiety flushing through her system. If the smallest thing went wrong, their whole plot would be spoiled.

Muzo had personally been fond of the blow guns idea, but the drive to push a personal creative agenda had been drilled out of him long, long ago. "Necklace it shall be," he affirms with a bow. "Close fitting. A choker. Should deliver." Muzo drums his fingertips along his jaw, humming. "Hmm. Should do very well. Just need the jewelry, should have no trouble modifying to suit your specifications." Hopefully they'll have time to do a test run. His brow knits a little worriedly. "Can postpone my other projects." A sort of far-off look enters his eyes, and he begins pacing. "...enthyltriation of the ectoapparitious torpodictriorum by animatogrimosis of the..." The muttering moves ever deeper and deeper into the incomprehensible, and his undulating coils soon carry him back out into the hall beyond.