RP:Headache
Part of the Venturil's Bane Arc
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
The Thorne Estate, Vailkrin
Daisy might have gone a little overboard with the gardening. It isn't her fault! She can't help it if she falls asleep in the bed of lilies and the flora feels like it needs to protect her from a -house- of all things. So they grow and bloom and spread like sweet scented fire that only burns if you have allergies. Time to wake up, kitten! She stretches out on her belly, pointing one toe and then the other before arching her back with a yawn.
Before Tenebrae even –entered- the Thorne Estate, she could hear the grumbling and snarling in the depths of its deeper shadows. The gates did not need to be threatened, in order for her to get through them without a pinched bottom. Something was amiss here. But what in Lithrydel could possibly have upset her guardian creations so? The necromancer paced through those uncommonly co-operative gates and into the garden – and suddenly understood. Her already cracking headache stabbed her a bit harder in the hindbrain. “Daisy,” she said, voicing the answer to the puzzle.
Daisy looks up at the mistress of the house with big eyes and a not guilty at all smile. She really does try her best not to irritate the estate's occupants, but jobs need to be done and she is very good at her work! Otherwise Miss Thorne would just find herself a scary druid to take care of her garden. Or make one. That seems like a possibility too. "Hi." She stands without brushing herself off since dirt and grass happen sometimes.
Tenebrae pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, and while this might seem very much like a gesture of exasperation, it wasn’t. “I’ve an awful headache,” she muttered. Opening her eyes again, the Lady Darkness studied the flowerbeds. “Well, this is… “ she smiled, a little woodenly, “.. certainly creative. Really, I just wanted the hellebores tidied, but…” she raised a forefinger. “.. this is also.. nice.” The pale woman went a bit whiter, then, and said to Daisy, “It’s really .. awful. My head. The ache in it. Can you do something about that?” The gem on her brow remained dull, most uninteresting. Nothing you’d want to look at. Nothing to see, here. Funny, the way one’s eyes refuse to gaze into it.
Daisy perks right up like one of those poor, unwanted flowers. Oh fate. Oh kind, kind fate. She couldn't have asked for... nevermind! You. Get to work. She nods and slips a paw into Tenebrae's hand, patting that hand with her free paw as she leads the woman over to that leather chaise lounge for sitting. "I can fix you."
"Oh, bless.." and the various ironies of that are no matter to Tenebrae, right now. The death-mage sank to the long seat, repeating the words she'd spoken to Tiphareth earlier, "I've been having episodes. They leave me feeling.." she winced, and didn't bother elaborating. In her best ‘I shall perish of the agons soon’ voice, she whispered, "Sometimes there's voices."
Daisy is such a sweet little nursemaid! She makes sure Tenebrae is comfy there on the lounge and even brushes some hair from the woman's face. Kind and sympathetic and totally not giving away her alternative motives, she is. "What do they say?" The kitten turns to move anything from the table that is just there so she can sit on it with her opened bag. She rummages, carefully placing bits of this and that not so many people have seen before on the table.
Tenebrae was silent for a long moment. “Nothing your fuzzy ears would benefit from hearing, druid.” But again, she offered that slightly stiff little smile, the best she can manage at present. “When this has ceased, we must take a nice long walk among those lovely…” The house’s various indoor guardians slithered and crept and .. arrived, however they managed it, clustering about the pair in a dense and horrible crowd. Pincers waved, tentacles offered to pluck Daisy up and feed her to the thing with the pincers. Tene dismissed them all with a wave of her hand, “Ah, my dears. All’s well. Mummy’s just got a bit of a headache.” The beings vacated the room with an air of disappointment (one might even have tweaked the Malatail befor it went..), leaving it feeling slightly musty and perilous. “So sweet,” she smiles at Daisy, not even bothering to glance at the table.
Daisy bends her head over her work, trying her best to ignore the guardians. They might have strict instructions not to eat the kitten, but that doesn't mean she isn't harrassed from time to time. Ha! Did I say time to time? I mean all the time. Constantly. They let her do her work, sure. The mistress likes her garden and everyone knows that happy mistress equals happy life. Er. Undead? This is so not your element, kitten. She shakes her head. Right. Tiny paws place those herbs and leafery on a cutting board that rests there on the druid's knees. A pretty little dagger -used mostly for plant cutting- is fetched and she oh so carefully slices down the length of a dark brown bean. While she works, that leathery tail of hers twitches for the first time since that day it was doomed to this furry imprisonment. Doomed! But what is this?! A visitor! A... oh thank ALL the gods. Careful not to stab anyone, the tail shifts over to Tenebrae's leg. Had it eyes, they'd totally be puppying up at the woman and whining for help.
So preoccupied was Tene with the herd of goblins in hobnail boots running about the inside of her head, kicking the backs of her eyes viciously as they gallop past (or so it felt), she had not even registered the fact that Daisy’s tail was…. She leans up on one elbow, squinting greenly at the thing. “Familiar,” she murmured, shifting her glance to Daisy. “Your.. tail. It reminds me of my familiar.” BOOT, went those analogous hobgoblins again, and with a groan she lay back down, her voice lowering to a whisper, “Tell me you have not been playing with Maladroit. He’s not been himself lately, either, come to think of it…”
Daisy never caught the name of that gaunt as it drove by oh so speedily, but she's pretty sure it is who she was playing with the other day. "I ate his cookie." Like that is going to mean anything to anyone except the creature's lady friend here. Those little wings flutter a bit, mad about being just a decoration. The tail would purr if tails instead of kittens could purr as it wraps oh so lovingly around Tenebrae's ankle. Daisy just lets it happen since the depression is so depressing and piles for tea need to be piled.
“Cookie…?” It takes Tene a moment... Then, “Oh-my-gods. He fed you one of those ..?” Interrupting herself, she peered again at the tail, caught glimpse of the fluttering wings. It all made sense to her now. Gritting her teeth against the stabbery of her pain, Tene waggled the leg belonging to the tail-twined ankle, “Did he .. take you anywhere?” she asks, idly, though the slightly sharp look in her eye might hint that she wasn’t really so casual about the matter. “.. anywhere.. unusual, I mean.”
Daisy should really keep her mouth shut sometimes. Just do what you do and do it well. No mistakes. Never mistakes. Too weak and it won't work. Too strong and... well she can just necromancer herself back, right? Hm. Nevermind that. Your blend is perfect and we both know it. Now answer her before she gets antsy. "Swimming. Hmm. And floating." There. That should suffice. The druid stands and carefully tugs the tail from around that ankle so it releases and falls limply depressed to the floor once more. "I need water." The cutting board is lifted and taken along to the kitchen. No sense in leaving things just anywhere to be manhan... woma... tossed about by mischievous house guardians.
Tene nodded, imagining a lot of squid. “He does like the ocean so.” So Daisy’s answer seemed to satisfy that question. She watches the tail’s behaviour, and of course knows exactly why it’s behaving as it is. But before she can say anything about it, Daisy’s off to fetch water. From the kitchen. “Be careful!” she thinks to shout after the kitten, instantly regretting raising her voice like that. The kitchen has become something of a death-trap, ever since Daisy and Valentine were last in there together.
Daisy is well aware of the kitchen and its peculiar behaviors. She pauses there in the doorway and gives the room a narrowed look. "She needs tea for headaches." In any normal house in a normal neighborhood in a normal kitchen, Daisy would look crazy. We know where we are and what this is and so jackets are fabulously not straight and kittens are free to boil water since all things in this house serve Mistress Tenebrae. Kitten, watchout! She ducks, barely avoiding a rogue crackerbee. There is a huff and the kitchen gives her the boiled water to be carried back to the little table for tea steeping.
Tenebrae was pinching her brow again, but she heard Daisy returning, “You have to give it orders,” she muttered. “Things to do. I designed Maladroit’s body that way, this time around, it needs chores or it loses its will to…” Not exactly live. “… gets despondent.” Daisy never met any of the gaunt’s previous ‘incarnations’, so her motives for wanting a more obedient version of the once-goblin probably aren’t obvious. Of course, Tenebrae has no idea that the familiar has gone rogue on her. “Oh and watch those spines. They’re probably full of paralytic venom. Very nasty.. “ she smiles, despite the migraine.
Daisy sets the little pot on her cutting board because you do not just put hot pots on any surface in someone's house. You could scorch nice things and then find yourself scorched in return. She looks back at her tail and the spines. "Probably?" Hm. That could prove interesting. Maybe even useful. She'll have to test it out on a few someones. Maybe in Cenril. Nobody seems to notice when bodies just appear to stop moving in Cenril. "I will." And this perks the tail up just a bit. Promises of stabbery! Who knew the kitten had a little drow in her? Psst. The tea is done. Druidish heads turn to pour the deep brown tea over a clove and a bean in a cup there on the table. The cup is picked up in both paws and brought to the lady necromancer. "For pains..." she smiles.
Tenebrae grasped for the cup, is a nicer way of putting it than ‘snatched it off Daisy’, so eager to be rid of the pressure and pounding (and whispering, but she’s ignoring that..) in her head that a little liquid slops over the rim, rug be damned. The rug actually didn’t mind, though. People didn’t spill enough things in this house lately! It wasn’t blood, but hey, a rug just has to make do, sometimes. Tenebrae murmured a brief word of thanks, which finished with a slurp and she sipped the tea. “Ooh, that’s lovely,” she said, approving of the taste, though a moment later rolled her forked tongue like a cat with a bit of hair stuck in its mouth. “Funny aftertaste. But lovely.” She guzzled the rest. Presumably, it would take a few minutes to take effect. “You know, I was wandering in the woods at the back of the estate the otherday’n’I sawthis.. wunnerful…. mush….”
Tenebrae said, after a long pause, ".... room."
Daisy 's tea would do as promised and help with the headache. It isn't fair to just drug the lady and not help if she can help! She stands there and watches the tea do its business, washing over the woman's face with sleep and content and happy dreams of baby pancakes. That is pancakes made with babies inside them. You just know that is what Tene dreams about. "Sleep. Rest." She hushes on the pretty lady while looking up at that bejeweled forehead of hers. Certainly it isn't going to just pop off.
Tene reeps. And slests. ZzzzZzzZzz. That’s not her snoring, by the way, it’s the rug. Honest. Anyway.. Daisy’s soporific brew did its job swiftly, likely strong enough to down a mammoth if it’ll knock the necromancer out. The pale woman’s features have lost their pinched look, and seem quite beatific – her white face makes her seem like a statue made of marble. Which –isn’t- snoring.
Daisy takes a minute to just look at Tenebrae while she isn't snoring. Pretty as she is, she's prettier when she isn't angry. The druid appreciates all things beautiful, you know. The little cup is taken and set aside so work can be done. Tiny paws prod at Tenebrae's arm to make sure she is good and out before climbing up there onto her belly. Those same paws reach up to try to take the gem. She tugs and tugs, but nothin' doin. Shifting happens and little feet are propped up on necromancer shoulders so paws can tug some more. Tuuuuuuuug! Malatails stand guard so nothing bothers the kitten who promised stabbings. By now those little feet have moved to the woman's face and oh! She slips and oh god get your foot out of her mouth, girl! She probably bites in her sleep! *headdesk* It is a good thing you made the tea so strong.
Tenebrae did not rouse at all, not even when her mouth is briefly invaded by that furry little foot. As the kitten tugs the gem, there’s not a sound, not a motion, except for one limp arm flopping so its hand rested on the rug, which was dreaming about extremely clumsy people with platters of chopped ox-heart and perhaps some nice spongecake for afters. Nothing happens, indeed, not for a long while, in which time Tenebrae might suffer a few accidental scratches, if Daisy gets too carried away. The kitten herself may be too busy attempting to save the world from the awful fate Maladroit had shown her, to notice how the gem seems to be slowly darkening, its lustreless grey deepening in shade little by little… But surely, she’d notice the whispers, sooner rather than later, which are apparently slipping from the necromancer’s drug-slackened (and hopefully toe-free) mouth, awful whispers, whispering things which sound like words but shouldn’t be, not on any world where nice things like kittens and flowers and pancakes also exist.
Daisy 's foot is removed and scratches are noted. She'll fix those before Tenebrae wakes up for sure. Like everything else bothersome, there's a creme for that. Gems darken and frustrated huffs mix in with whispers you can bet your sweet ass those kitten ears pick up. One of them cocks to the side and she looks up to that mouth her foot previously occupied. "Sshhh..." She leans over the woman, pressing a paw to those lips. "No." Because sometimes words that shouldn't be don't know they shouldn't be and need to be told what to do. And sometimes kittens mutter words they heard on pirate ships before snatching up their daggers for prying at gems on foreheads.
Tene’s mouth once more experiences the joys of a furry appendage. Which isn’t how it sounds. The whispers don’t abate – they grow louder, more insistent, while the gem reached that maximum of darkness which only otherwise exists in the very deepest depths of outer space. As Daisy grabs for her dagger, she might be tipped off necromancer and chaise lounge as well (just as well that rug is asleep, kitten..) for the pale woman’s body jerks upward, suddenly and awkwardly, as if made some sort of sleeping puppet by a massive hand, unseen. Tene’s head dangles at an uncomfortable-looking angle, her arms are limp by her sides. Another violent jerk, and she’s on her feet. Or, more precisely, on the tips of her boot-toes, which actually leave the floor altogether a moment later.
Daisy lets out a little yelp as she tumbles down head over tail to the floor. Good thing that rug -is- asleep! It probably wouldn't appreciate kitten tush in its face. She looks up at the now floating woman and shakes her head. No. Her tea didn't do all that. So she tugs on a boot and then jumps up to scale Tenebrae's body. She probably can't stop the puppeteering, but she can certainly try! Legs around floating waist, she props herself up on Tenebrae's hip. "Stop." And the dagger is taptaptap'd on the gem. Not threatening, more just knocking.
Despite the gossip of gossipy types, and people she dislikes, and people whose fates she’s deliberately or accidentally upset like so many bum-sore applecarts, and paladins and .. folks with nothing at all better to do… despite centuries of talk to the contrary, Tenebrae isn’t really all that nasty. She would not, for instance, harm those she finds useful – not cute and adorable, mind you, just useful – like Daisy. But as it happens, Tenebrae has left the mausoleum and nobody’s home but us chickens. If the echoes of malevolent gods can in any way be described as chickens. Anyway, she wouldn’t ever intend what happened next. Which was that the abundant life-force Daisy is, and has, and channels, began to wane, so Daisy would feel it. Perhaps one less imbued with vitality may have shrivelled to a mummy of themselves, perhaps it’s just that this thing is only newly in control of the drugged necromancer, who is unable to hold it back now as she had been struggling to do these many weeks… But the force causing the woman to hang on her toes is also corroding, possibly ingesting, who knows, really, the very thing which makes Daisy.. Daisy. Best get off the necromancer while the going’s good, kitten. For that gem Daisy is tippy-tapping with her little knife could at any moment wake up properly..
Daisy 's vitality is pretty burly. Like the muttonchops of butchers. That doesn't mean she can't feel a poking prodding disturbance in her essence. Those flowers strewn about scream at her, begging her to come back. You don't know this sorcery, kitten. It is too strong and too big for you. Hurry down and we'll think of something else. She frowns and scampers back to the floor, but not without that malatail can give the gem a nice whack for luck.
.. which promptly pumped a measure of paralysis-venom into the already well-anaesthetised body of Tenebrae. Whether it made any difference or not was hard to say. She was still hovering there on her tip-toes, swaying a little bit, while the various horrors infesting her home whimpered out of sight like a pack of very frightened puppies, or shadowed and thronged and stained the floor with their abject grovelling. Except for that rug, of course, which quietly rolled up one of its own corners to cuddle while it snored. Ignoring it all, and with no mind to the druid who’d opened some very big, very dark gates in her quest to rob Tene of the Eye, the necromancer’s small frame began moving like a ghost of its natural occupant, toward the front door.
Daisy takes the briefest of moments to take a look around. The house has never behaved like this. The house is snarley and nasty and violent and... no. This can't be good. She wraps both arms around the floating legs and digs her heels into the floor. She isn't sure why, but going outside seems like a bad idea. She pulls from this way then moves around to in front of Tene and tries pushing from that side. Another sailor word later and the kitten is racing back to her bag and dives in it. Full body in, only her rump sticks out as she searches for-ahHA! A dark red, bulbous flower head is held up in triumph. Maybe trying to wake Tenebrae up would help. She's probably going to be pissed off, but that is better than being pissed on and I'm pretty sure this gem is gonna piss all over everything. Ignoring the slow draining on her person, she climbs up the Tenebody once more and squeezes the flower beneath the woman's nose, releasing a smellingsaltesque odor. She falls, more than jumps down to wait.
Too late… those horrendous, arcane whispers seem to chortle, in a dry wheeze like the sudden opening of a thousand old coffins. The flower wilts a bit, then shrivels into a thin, grey stalk, then it is a grimy powder on the kitten’s fur, and all the while the body of her employer is slowly drifting.. out the door, which bangs itself open so hard it dislodges itself from a hinge… across the garden, where she leaves a trail of dead grass and blistered flowers… to the gates, which might be stubborn but are not stupid… Something might be telling Dasiy about now, somewhere in the back of her head, that this was probably a good time to run and find Tiphareth, just like the vision foretold.
Except.. not –quite- exactly like that. Maladroit’s sure gonna have some splainin’ to do.