PM to join Lovely Ladies [Ivandra, Isalie, Isolde Seibold]

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats "I have but three eyes, and all of them different. One prefers to commune with the young, one obeys, and one disgusted by what it sees." Ninus said, chuckling to himself. "My art is a delicate one, one that demands patience from the man or woman asking to use it. For one does not command poison, one asks for its assistance. In this way, I will see no disrespect toward it, and even the most tame mushroom I shall see treated with respect. For one can kill so very easily, and kill thyself easier still. But I will not sit and give speeches to thee. Nay, that is but for the asses in tin armor. Their hooves clank around the streets, and their voices harshly fill the air like ravens about a graveyard. I ask for two things in return of teaching...gold, three coins a day to learn three poisons a day, or knowledge." He looked to Isalie, smiling. "I would assume thee would request the path of knowledge, and thine others I cannot predict." he said to her, then looked at them all with a friendly look. "Come, tell me of thee and thine. Thou must not feel uncomfortable in my home. For I prefer the embrace of my own sex to thine, and see no advantage or sense in harming thee. I wish to rest in beauty for a time, and learn which poison might be pleased to work with thee. Oh but my dear, ragged girl..." he looked again at Isalie. "I know thine path. The cherry for you, one with such rage and madness would gleefully dance with such a fiery woman. Fire matches fire, and the two entwine in poetry. One will be an artist with its branches, and learn to tame and know it as one does a man. Shy not from such a powerful and protective lover, for it is to thee I give the most common and deadly of poisons." He hadn't decided the other two. Isalie would be matched to the cherry, but Isolde and Ivandra he hadn't decided yet. Ivandra seemed more cautious, and Isolde...such a shy thing...perhaps a fungus for her. An innocuous creature that hid its bite.

[Isolde Seibold]

The Nuit shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, laying her hands in her lap, digesting Ninus' words, letting their meaning soak in. It was obvious he didn't like the Knights, and how could he, in the... profession that he was in? She didn't know if she liked the thought of it, but there was a great chance that this man killed or hurt people on a regular basis. She had thought she had known that coming in, thinking of the man in Undeniable Interests and his response to her questions about Ninus-- "Guess it depends on what you want." So he would... what? Take on clients, contracts? And once he had a name or a place... then he'd poison the mark, that was obvious. But was it fatally, or just to make them sick--? Were the people he hurt ones he didn't know and who hadn't harmed him, personally, or people who had harmed him, perhaps unwitting, brutish fellows who had offered insult or injury upon the streets? Did it matter? She supposed not-- Ninus would still be in the wrong for hurting someone, wouldn't he? So what was she doing here? That was what she thought he was asking, questing for hers and Isalie's intentions. She was here for self defense. But, really, ultimately she would be hurting people, the same way she presumed Ninus did-- wouldn't she?

No. She could't do this if she let herself think that. No. It was not the same way. It was different. She had no intention to harm anybody, and she hardly wanted to affect them for more than a couple chimes, a bell or two at most. She didn't want to affect them at all, not if it wasn't necessary... but she was a Nuit, and if someone tried to hurt her she needed a fool-proof way to get out of the situation, and fast. Poison was the obvious out. And there were poisons that didn't really hurt the recipient, just sent them off to sleep for a few hours...

Nervously the Nuit cleared her throat, shifting again, tapping her fingers of one hand against the palm of the other. Would Ninus understand that she didn't want to hurt people, or would he be angered by her, thinking her too squeamish to participate? She didn't know, but she couldn't lie-- foolishly she was against that sort of thing, and she couldn't tell a convincing lie regardless. "U-Uh, well. I-- I want to kn-know enough to p-poison a blade or needle, i-if need be. I d-didn't really come here to, uh, f-find out how to h-hurt someone." She shook her head minutely. "No. I d-don't want that. I just-- well, I read that there are-- are poisons th-that incapacitate f-for a while. Like... p-put someone unconscious, o-or put them to sleep. S-Something l-like that I would be-- interested in." She hesitated a moment, then said, as firmly as she could manage, "N-Nothing more."

As for gold or knowledge... did he mean that she could give knowledge in exchange for the poisons he taught? She didn't really know, or understand that part... but she would probably stick to gold, regardless. She didn't really think she had any knowledge to offer-- what, a tiny bit of learning from a hundred years ago on Reimancy? No, she didn't have anything of that sort to offer. Gold it would have to be, but at least the price seemed fair.

[Ivandra]

Ivandra remained standing, finding herself again immersed in the eloquent way Ninus spoke. His... profession? If you could call it that, at least, didn't seem to yield much opportunity to read very many books. Even if he did, it was likely that the books would only be that of instruction on poison. Where had he learned to speak in such a manner? And was he really only a poison maker, or was there something else behind him? She suddenly shook herself, irritated with the way she was paying attention to the small details about him. She should have been more disgusted by the pregnant rats who had made their homes in his bed sheets, or wary of him because of his profession in the first place. She relaxed slightly as he turned towards them, with a friendliness and demeanor almost the exact opposite of the way he'd been on the streets. She could only attribute the reason to the fact that they were safer in his home, and he felt more comfortable without the Knights potentially roaming around the corners. "I want to be able to recognize poisons and learn how certain kinds work. It would be able to assist me in the work I do. Any you? What got you into the... ah, art, of poison making?" Her hand reached out unconsciously to touch the opal gnosis mark on her forehead before she realized what she was doing and dropped it back down to her side. Even though the mark was apparent, she didn't want to draw any more attention to it.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

Staring at the man, Isalie was still astounded by the fact that this man, this poison maker, was actually willing to teach three incompetent women.all at the same time. His home, and his precious rodents, were sure to go up in flames. Along with him and the three students. And he was okay with this? Each to their own. She supposes.

Silently, she hopes that she isn't the one to destroy the poisoner's home, filthy and uninhabitable as it was. Nevertheless, she can't stop the smile that appears when he tells her of her given poison: cherry. Fire matches fire? She wonders incredulously, though she keeps her face neutral, mildly interest, lest she appears rude. No it doesn't. Fire matches water, or ice. Fire is made worse by more fire... Surely the man knew this. Surely he was aware of the consequences of 'matching' fire with fire. Destruction could only be the outcome.

He thinks he knows me already... I don't even know me.In any other circumstances, Isalie might have began to question her very being: was that really what people saw? She supposed it made sense. This was hardly the time though. But if he was right... Then I guess this is proof that the vermin-lover really is insane. And here I was thinking the best pairings offset each other. Calm and Storm. Hot and Cold. Fire and Ice. She shrugs inwardly; if the man wanted to tempt fate I this way, she could only imagine what he would give to the other two girls present. She looks to the Nuit, and wondered if poison making was even what she should be doing - the stuttering made the lady seem frightened. Of everything.

But, Isalie guessed, that would make it all the more interesting, along with her 'fiery' poison to match her 'fiery' personality. "I thank you. Whatever you think best." she says softly, unmoving from her position on the floor. She barely keeps the laughter out of her voice, though. Fire matches fire...

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus took the Nuit's hands in his own, kneeling slowly before her. "Dear lady, my gentle undead, tame corpse. My poisons are but the end of a man, and their learning your beginning. How one uses them, how one acquaints another, is up to you." he said. "No judgement will be passed upon thee by these eyes, by plant or man. I will teach thee, and guide thee to put enemies to slumber. Thy hands will injure and incapacitate, will turn guts to water. But these beautiful pieces of china I hold in my hand will dig no graves, I promise thee." Ninus smiled at Isolde, standing and looking at the three ladies. "Come to me, my nightingales, my ladies. Thou will learn the most basic of poisons, the one mated to my dear Isalie." He went to the desk and picked up a small cherry. He popped it into his mouth without a word, chewing and taking the now-clean, thumbnail-sized pit out. "A treat enjoyed by many, the child of the cherry discarded so easily on a hot summer day. But..." he took a small bag of dry cherry pits off his desk. He poured a dozen of them into his hand. "...a dozen, dried, powdered, and mixed in water ends a man's life. He lays on a bed, a fire burning his guts, sweat that feels like the brand of a slaver. The anger of one so quickly abandoned feels like bathing in the waters of hell. No water shall slake his thirst, no ice will help his fever. He dies a husk." Ninus said. He went to Isalie and took her hand, pouring the pits into them and closing her fingers over them. He pulled her by her closed hand to the desk and handed her an unusual tool. It was a mortar and pestle unlike any one ever seen. One end was textured with teeth, the other smooth and round. "Crush them well, to powder. Breathe it not, nor touch it with this beautiful skin. One must court the cherry, and court him well. Do it, and he will bend to thy will. This is thy task." Ninus smiled and released Isalie's hand, looking to Ivandra. "To heal the cherry, one has to outlast his madness. Water is what your patient will lust for most, and will want to kill for it. But, my lady...oil and charcoal, the leavings of a fire, will aid your patient most. Charcoal will take the bite from the poison, the oil will coat the stomach. Then one only has to outlast him." Ninus sat down at the desk and plucked a small flower from a pot resting in the sun. He smiled and turned to Isolde, handing it to her. "A more gentle man for thee my lady. Purple flowers, a line of tiny bells with no sound, the glove of a fox. Small doses will cause sickness, a man's guts will turn to water, and his eyes will betray him." Ninus said. "But to extract oil from it, one must be as gentle. Hold him, gently in thy hands. Thy warmth will warm him to thee, then we will float him upon a bed of water. His oil will drift down in sight of thee, and we shall collect it. Thy hands must do this, to learn and remember. Ivandra, simple charcoal will calm this poison. Bread and water, and little else for three days."

[Isolde Seibold]

Ninus took her hands, actually took her hands in his, kneeling before her, and Isolde had to fight the urge to scoot back away from him on the bed, because she wasn't supposed to allow herself into other people's personal space, normally they didn't like it, it set them on edge and that was bad-- but she stayed where she was, and some strange expression dawned over her face at his soft, reassuring words.

"No judgement will be passed upon thee by these eyes, by plant or man. I will teach thee, and guide thee to put enemies to slumber. Thy hands will injure and incapacitate, will turn guts to water. But these beautiful pieces of china I hold in my hand will dig no graves, I promise thee."

And then he smiled, and stood to begin the first lesson, and the Nuit couldn't help the small smile in return. She found that she-- well, she liked him. She didn't know how that was --it was most likely that he hurt people on a regular basis, and he had scolded her rather severely when she had accidentally butchered that root-- but she did. It was perplexing. His manner was entirely different when he was at home. Was the rest of it a front, only worn when he was out of his sanctuary?

At his prompting, the Nuit stood, following him over towards the desk, the others doing the same. When he set Isalie to her task of crushing the cherry pits, speaking of the poison and the cure, the Nuit had already set to memorizing it all, repeating in her mind his instructions on how to create the poison, the symptoms, and the treatment. 12 cherry pits, dried, powdered, mixed with water. Fever that burns through a man, fire in his gut, no relief from water or ice. Treated by imbibing a mixture of charcoal and oil, and outlasting the illness. She had no intention of using this poison, gods no... but what Ivandra said was right. Knowing how to treat such an illness would be useful in itself... the Nuit would record all of this later somewhere so she wouldn't forget, and hide the writing at the bottom of her knapsack where it would be unlikely for anyone to ever come across...

And then Ninus sat at the desk, taking a flower from a pot, and held it out to her. She took it in her hands, a lovely purple thing, and it looked familiar, perhaps something she might see out in the woods, or one of the many wildflowers she had taken note upon while living in the Outpost, back when she used to spend most of her days out in the open fields or wandering through the woodlands with Kale or Vaughn.

By the sound of it, this would only make a man ill. The Nuit hardly wanted even to resort to something like that, but-- that was better than sending him off to his deathbed, wasn't it, and it wasn't like she would be using it on just anyone who looked angrily in her direction. No, only the men --or women-- who proved themselves dangerous to her-- Though there was but a little hitch in Ninus' instructions, something of an embarrassment for the Nuit, and she ducked her head a little, saying quietly, "I-- I thought you knew, could tell-- wh-when you t-took my hands in yours-- I d-don't exactly h-have a-any body h-heat." How would she warm the flower? Being a Nuit had its rare advantages --endless stamina, a body that never grew tired or hungry, stunted pain, and patience that seemed to last into eternity, as well as (and this was the real winner for a poison-maker) a natural tolerance, you could call it, to poison, considering her biology. But being what she was had more downsides than up, and unfortunately... no heartbeat, no body heat, no warmth. It wasn't that the touch of her flesh was chill, she was no ghost to draw the warmth from the air... but she simply didn't have warmth, and most people perceived her touch as cold, because it would seem cold to them, the lack of the natural heat that they were expecting. How would she warm the flower, then--? Perhaps if she held her hands towards a fire and warmed them for a certain amount of time, and then used that borrowed warmness--?

She suggested that stutteringly to Ninus, not knowing what else to do... and then hurriedly moved on to ask a couple other questions that had risen to her mind, hoping to leave the other topic behind while he mulled on it. "Wh-Where might one c-collect th-these flowers? F-Foxglove, correct? C-Could th-they be harvested, say, i-in the Bronze Woods? How might one c-correctly h-harvest them? B-Because I d-don't want to hurt the plant, d-don't want to make the s-same mistake as before, with the-- the root. O-Or would you recommend growing them at
home--? A-And... this o-oil that will be collected... h-how much is n-necessary for a small dose, w-will a larger dose affect the recipient more st-strongly--?" She didn't want to accidentally poison someone too much and end up really hurting them. "H-How is the p-poison applied? On a blade or needle, or through c-consumption, or some other manner? A-And lastly... how f-fast acting is it? W-Will the person be affected straightaway, or w-will the effects come sl-slowly to them--?"

Hopefully he --and the others-- wouldn't be bothered by all the questions, but it had never been the Nuit's practice to take knowledge idly... she liked to think it was the mark of a good student, but she didn't really know. When she had taught the kids at Mithryn, she had always encouraged questions, taking it as a sign that the children actually were interested in topics outside of farming and agriculture, or housework. Now she looked to Ninus, and thought that she would probably, in her time, amass a great number of teachers, on a great number of topics. If she managed to cling to her life, that was. And part of that process would be this poison-making... so his answers were very important to her.

[Ivandra]

It was all very fascinating, watching the beginnings of the lesson unravel in front of her. She leaned forward eagerly as Ninus popped the cherry in his mouth, then connected it to a bag of cherries before him. It's poison? Cherry seeds can be made poisons? The thought astounded her for a moment. She had never imagined such a thing, that anything so perfectly edible could be the death seed of a man's life. She gazed at the bag of cherries, noting the way they were dry and withered, storing the image away for future reference if it ever came to it. Then came the pestle and mortar. It was shaped differently; not the round pestles that were commonly sold in the marketplace, but one with both a smooth end and a sharp end. "Ninus, is there a... specific reason that such a tool is used for the grinding of the cherry seeds? Why this kind of pestle and mortar? Why not the regular kind that you see all around?" Ivandra was genuinely curious. Asking questions was also something that came along with her nature; since she was learning poison making, she may as well learn it as best as she could. There was no use in keeping the questions silent in her mind when the teacher was right there to answer. The Kelvic moved forward again as the lesson progressed, this time to the use of foxglove. The small flower was beautiful, but even she had heard of it being used as a deadly poison. After Ninus finished his instructions, she turned to Isolde, waiting for her to begin. Sure, it wasn't she who was making the poison yet, but she was simply assuming that Ninus was going in order. One right after the other, learning with firsthand experience while the others watched.

[Hope Dawnwhisper]

The runaway slave continues to smile at the man as she listens. She still makes no effort to move from her hunched up position on the floor. A rustle from the pile of rags on the floor disturbs her and she turns away from Ninus to look at the group of mother rats ant their offspring. Gently, she lifts a hand to pull away the top few layers of material, revealing the small creatures to her. For some, it appeared to be feeding time. The girl smiles once more and resists the urge to lower her hand further into the pile, lest the mothers thought she was a threat. At that age, though, Isalie could not help but think they were cute.

She only tears her gaze away when she realises that she was once again being addressed by the poisoner. Dropping the layers of the rags, she allows the small stones to fall into her hand, silently wondering which lucky soul had eaten the cherries. The young woman, herself, had never had the luxury of trying such a delicacy; rarely did cherries grow well in the wild, uncultivated. But, from the sweet smell alone, which was weak, but present from the residue of cherry meat, she knew they could only taste delectable.

Taking the mortar and pestle, she places the small bowl in her lap, resting above her pelvis and held by her thighs and stomach. The pestle she then removes and places on her lap below the bowl. Careful not to drop any onto the floor, she uses her free fingers to scrape them into the bowl from the palm of her hand. Fumbling for a moment, she picks the pestle back up and pushes it down into the bowl, twisting her wrist as she does to grind the cherry stones. Without even having to look, the girl knows that she had not applied nearly enough force to crush the stones. Was the rat-lover aware of the small capacity the girl had in terms of strength? Did her malnourished figure not give that away?

Nevertheless, she grits her teeth and tries again. And again. During her failed attempts, the young woman continues to watch the othe three, curious as to what the poisoner was going to give them as their first poison ingredients. But she was more curious about the women and, more specifically, Ivandra. Isalie knew already that the other was undead in some capacity, having already been possessed by a ghost. The ex-slave had heard tell of the 'Nuit' creatures, which were hardly favoured company amongst most. With little to go on but distinguishing features, Isalie assumed she was one. She would find out more at some point but, for the immediate future, Isalie wanted to avoid becoming enemies with someone in a room filled with so many deadly substances.

The other, however, was not human in an entirely different way. She looked and talked like a human, but every now and again she would do something that was entirely... not human. Isalie had spent much of her life watching people: she picked up the little ticks and twitches that people had with relative ease, and the other girl, Ivandra, had many. Isalie made a mental note to talk to the woman soon

Eventually, some of the cherry pips gave way to the mortar and pestle and Kalina smiled, looking down. With renewed vigor, she begins to put more effort into her designated task, all the while listening to the other three: Ninus was specifically teaching her one poison, but she would learn from the other two women too. She would learn three.

[Ninus Aurellius]

The Prince of Rats Ninus smiled to the Nuit. He'd forgotten she could not create her own body heat. "Serpents have no inner fire from which to warm themselves...thou hast the same options. When one walks into the sun does not one warm like a rock upon the ground? But there is another way, when the sun hides her face amongst the clouds. Serpents shiver their muscles; it is the same reason a man shivers his, to create warmth. Come. Tremor the muscles in thine hands, and though exhaustion comes quickly warmth will soon follow. Enough to coax the oil from the flower." Ninus said, putting his hands over hers to help in the warming. "One must be gentle with all plants, but the hand of a lady is much more accustomed to such actions. A simple pluck will not harm it. The root is a plant's lifeblood and heart. A flower is simply the most beautiful of sexual organs, and unlike us the plant will readily grow another. It is an arrogant creature this one, hiding in spots of sunlight from which it has pushed others, that its brilliant blooms may be better seen by insects. His arrogance means he only imparts a small amount of oil to us poisoners, but an amount barely enough to cover the smallest part of a spoon's bowl is enough to make a man sick. Not dead, for that many blooms are required and it is a foul death indeed. Within an hour of drinking it, the plant's pride bashes through his intestines and stomach. He will not be far from the privy for days." Ninus told her gently. "Warm, and I shall tell thee what to do next. One should feel the flowers wilting." He looked to Ivandra and listened to her question. "My lady?" he took the pestle from Isalie for but a moment, showing the spiked ends. "The stones of a cherry are round, and a round pestle makes for a merry chase but not much work. One could spend all day like a child knocking marbles against its fellows but not shattering one." he handed the pestle back with a thanks to Isalie. He guided Ivandra over to the cooking fire, where he deftly flicked a bit of charcoal out of the banked fire with a foot. He picked it up and set it into a bowl, pouring a tiny bit of water from the ladle of his rain barrel. "Fire and water will calm the worst of symptoms, my healer. But the fire must be warmed gently, and delivered to the patient quickly. Come. The duty of a healer is one coated in blood and sweat, and one must not shy from such activities. Make a paste with the ingredients you see here. A kiss, bestowed upon a patient not able to swallow nor willing to eat such a thing, can save a life." Ninus instructed. He remembered when he'd caused a stir kissing Turan in much the same way, delivering the paste of charcoal to help with the poison of a peach pit. But it had aided the man's return to life. "Simple blankets can help as well. Poisons hide in the fats and muscle of the man afflicted with them...in most cases, swaddling him as one does a babe will heat him. His body will pour out the foul substance in his sweat." he added. He had kept half an eye on Isalie and knew she had struggled with the cherry pits...but when she began to break them down he knew he'd made the right decision. Cherries were a luxury, but they could be found wild. Sour little yellow things that not a lot of men ate, and were certainly a far cry from the sweet red things. He left Ivandra to make the paste and went to Isalie. "Thou art a fine worker." he complimented her. "And thou hast been matched well. Come, pay for thine lessons with a tale. Thy shoulders bear the burden of such memories, and it is good to speak of them." he settled down next to her on the floor, one of the rats crawling into his lap for some attention. He petted the creature idly, his skinny fingers stroking over the narrow head and fat body.

[Isolde Seibold]

"Tremor the muscles in thine hands..."
Okay. She could give that a go.

The Nuit set about trying to do as instructed, working at producing enough dim heat through the movements of her muscles to prepare the flower, while at the same time keeping her eyes away from Ninus' face since he was so close, holding her hands in his to help her along. When he started confidently and quickly answering all her various questions, she began her inner repetition once more, mind touching on the high points of his answers over and over, repeating the words back to herself, and one little fact stood clearly out. It did appear that foxglove could be used to-- to kill someone. In large doses, but... well, if and when she ever used the poison on someone, she would have to be very careful to only use the barest amount, the oil gathered from one mere bloom of the flower. It wasn't likely she would accidentally kill someone --unless perhaps, they managed to be allergic, another thing to worry about-- but she was going to be cautious about it, regardless. Perhaps caution was a good philosophy in general, when it came to poisons and their crafting.

Ninus withdrew to work with the others, and Isolde hurriedly tried to drink in the knowledge that he offered them as readily as what he had given her. Yes, she would have to write this down at some point... or risk losing it all. So much information, but she was glad for it. She liked to know how to treat poisons as dearly as she liked to know how to make them for defense... though she was pretty certain that she was going to have to look into different types of poisons, do a bit of research on her own. This foxglove poison was good for her, if she ever intended on using it spitefully, using premeditation... but she was going to have to, at some point in time, discover a poison that could be applied to a blade, something that would help her get out of a fight, gods forbid. Something that would hamper her attacker, not hurt him or kill him... and something that worked fast enough to be of use to her in such a situation. She wondered silently if there even was a poison like that, as she painstakingly warmed the flower between her cupped hands, crossing to the window to let the light sunshine aid in the process.

"Come, pay for thine lessons with a tale. Thy shoulders bear the burden of such memories, and it is good to speak of them."

At this Isolde looked over, and despite knowing that Isalie's life should be of no concern to her, and that she shouldn't pry, that she didn't want to put the girl on the spot... she was curious what the young woman might have say. She wondered if the girl would be willing to part with a story about herself and her life... and for the first time, the Nuit focused on her fellow student enough to notice how thin Isalie really was, though of course she couldn't match Isolde's own gauntness. If she could, the Nuit would have been pretty alarmed; it would not do for someone living to be as haggard as someone dead. She wondered if the girl would even want to speak of her own experience; Isolde wouldn't speak of some happenings in her own life, and now her own false-life, for the world.

As she waited for Isalie to accept or refuse Ninus' request, Isolde peeked into her cupped hands at the little purple bloom there, checking on its status... and lo and behold, it certainly looked like it was wilting. Happy enough that she had been able to achieve her own task --well, at least she thought she had-- Isolde called gently out, trying to not let the eagerness show too loudly in her voice, "I-- I th-think the flower's r-ready." She gave a hesitant, nervous smile, which came off more as the smallest twitching of the corners of her lips than as an actual movement of expression.

OOCHey Ninus... I was just wondering, do foxglove and cherry belong to certain poison families?