Desperate Times, Desperate Measures {Inoadar}

[Bonnibell Carson]

Date: 76th of Winter, 513A/V
Location: Ino Vations
Time: Early Morning

They say dress for success. Bonnie was intent on taking the statement as far as it would go. The young woman had the doors to her wardrobe open wide. Clothes flew from it at an alarming pace. They landed on a chair, the bed, and one unfortunate landed in the chamber pot. She only stopped for breath when she found a blue scarf and sandals. A loud a-ha! resounded. Bonnie carried them to her desk. There she leaned over it and double-checked her pomade. A piece of hair was stuck to her lip. She shoved it back and bent to slip on her sandals.

“So this is what we’ve amounted to again.” She sighed at her reflection. “Wouldn’t momma be so happy to know I’d gone back to my old job?”


There was no answer that would please Bonnie. She donned her scarf, and deserted her apartment before her courage could desert her. The cities weather had shocked the natives. It was not uncommon to see them sporting scarves and mittens. It was outrageous altogether. A pleasant cool, then snow, and now, much to Bonnie’s exasperation, there was frost. It made dainty pictures along any window the eye could see. The young womans sigh made a small cloud drift from her lips; it dispersed quickly.

Dressed in her skirt and blouse the chill went straight to her knee. Already hurts and it doesn’t even hurt yet! Bonnie thought with disgust. How the young woman thought a scarf would ward off all the cold only she could know. Yet, she went on. She limped her way through the city to the place she heard a vague whisper of.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The shop was as most small shops were when not owned by the more lavish citizens. A simple brick building with a simple white sign declaring it to be: Ino Vations.

Bonnie adjusted herself before entering. It didn’t always work but it helped to look inviting. Unless the owner’s not interested. She twirled a lock of her hair in place of biting her nails. She took a breath, and slipped past the doors. Upon first glance the only thing that greeted her was a pair wings. They looked like the husk of a snake. “Lovely.” She muttered drily. A second glance showed the business for what it was. A place of poison.

With or without her permission the young womans eyes welled. She blinked them back slowly. Could they help? She wouldn’t know. She continued her assessment. Could she take something? Bonnie would be foolish to try. The gold coin in her hand, she had forgotten about it, would have to be enough.

“Hello? I’m in...need of a…medicine.” She called out cautiously. Bonnie hadn’t actually dare to step into the business yet. She hovered in the doorway.

[Inoadar]

Verennia was learning to handle more complex processes all the time. No more the simple boiling and grinding. Inoadar was letting her use the pressure chamber to give a "burst" application of a binding agent onto a trio of leaves. He was then going to let her run them in the infusion drip recycling coil and see if they retained the prior enzyme coating.

It was an important step in combining properties of some toxins that would normally be impossible due to the process required to activate one causing the other to become inert. But the new fungal agent he'd stumbled upon gave him hope of success.

It was probably this eager anticipation of success that prompted him to respond to the visitor's request for medicine to be greeted without sarcasm. Normally, his suggestion that poison did not fit into that category, and his ensuing advice to go to The Healing Hand for such an item would have been delivered with stinging disdain.

"I'm very sorry Miss. If you take a moment to look around, you will see that medicines are not the primary results of the work we do here. If you are a citizen, I would recommend the Healing Hand. If not, I suggest the 'Nitrozian-Moletta Sanitary Station."

He turned to leave, but the lack of the traditional 'door-closing' sounds gave him pause. He turned back, now a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. It always irked him when people came into his plainly advertised shop and then acted as though they'd had no idea what was sold there. It may not say "POISONS" across the bricks out front, but everyone knew where to get them.

"Was there something else?"

[Bonnibell Carson]

First impressions are inclined to stick. Such was the case with the shop owner. He seemed to be decent enough. Then he essentially told her to leave. Bonnie froze. For a time she would wonder if she looked as foolish as she felt. She would wonder if he was as rude as that tick painted him. The thought did not stay long. “I didn’t come for healing,” her mouth knew to move while her brain worked to catch up, “I misspoke. I’m in need of…” Bonnie paused. She couldn’t lie. It was obvious what was in the shop. But she couldn’t very well say what she needed poison for. The young woman could barely think it. It had not occurred to her she did not actually need tell the storeowner what she needed. A testament to how far her mind was scrambled. “poison. Clearly.”


The word had finally slipped out in a rush. But it made the rest of the words spew forth as well. Bonnie had almost, but not quite, forgotten her plan. Hastily she leaned forward. She hoped it was inviting. She tried a smile. Her hands bunch at the bottom of her shirt. Bonnie felt all of ten under his gaze. It was a highly unsuitable comparison considering what she attempted to invite. His impatience had been too subtle for her to pay mind too. She would have to do better if she planed to lie. Unfortunately for her, she did worse.

“My brother—I wanted to suicide.” The young woman would have had better luck being drunk. The sentence would have made more sense. Again her eyes grew glassy. It was becoming obvious she couldn’t do it. Did not even want to be in the shop. Desperately she tried again. She struggled to save face. To sort her thoughts. Her mind spiraled on without her consent. And all it had taken for her to reach this state? A few words. Medicine. She thought hysterically, Because I haven’t had enough of that and doctors. “I need something that could kill a grown person. Painless. I don’t…just something.”

Bonnie did not show her coin. She had enough sense, from clothing shopping, to remember vague bargaining tools. If she showed her hand now he would laugh. Perhaps she could take him down when he told her what he had. When she had figures. Her grip tightened on the coin. To the young woman it was as if she had whispered her plan to the world. She yearned to swallow back the words. Rhysols guts. He could turn me in for that saying alone. Bonnie felt her smile strain. She prayed he was not looking at her face.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar bit back his smile. Now she was talking, though she undoubtedly thought she'd made even more of a muddle than she had with her first attempt. He didn't know why she, or any of the other half of all people that came through his door for more than just curiosity, were always so nervous.

He got the gist easily enough. 'Poison...suicide...kill...painless' What could be simpler? He stood for a moment not speaking, giving her the chance to crumble and run, begging his forgiveness for wasting his time. But she stood her ground with respectable resolve, considering that she was plainly afraid.

He didn't know why she should be. Poison was as legal as food in Ravok. 'In fact they are often served at the same table.' he thought, this time failing to bite back his grin. Well, it seemed she truly did want to make a purchase, so it was upon him to coax it out of her.

"Something' covers a lot of territory miss..." he paused for her to give a name. it didn't need to be her real name, but he wanted to call her something more specific than 'Miss'. "...though I will say that designating 'painless' narrows it down considerably. So you do not wish your target to suffer? Is this to be done in a public place then, and you don't want to draw attention? Have you considered a sleep agent, followed by a "misstep" near one of our handy canals? That's a tried-and-true classic."

As usual, he warmed to his subject before allowing her to answer. "Plus the benefit of the inundation of the flesh with canal water can make it very difficult to determine that poison was used."He leaned in with a friendly attitude of conspiracy "Believe me, I know this from experience."

Now he walked away, counting another detail off on another finger, "Of course, this is only a concern when there's anyone that is even going to bother with an investigation. This, I also know from experience." Now he turned with a look of mild triumph, "But, best of all, IF this is the case, it can definitely be made to look like a suicide, which I assume is what you want."

He stood before her, his right forefinger lying across his open left palm. In his mind, he was the answer to all her prayers, Rhysol excluded, of course. "So, as they say, 'Name your poison." he winked.

[Bonnibell Carson]

Bonnie knew what the pause was for. Her gaze lowered to the ground. He would get no name from her.

“No!” Bonnie raised her head. Her body was tense. At some point she had moved in farther to the room. “I’m familiar with out damned canals but it’s not murder. You keep…it’s not like that. It’s not meant to look like anything. It is suicide.” Besides, you can’t murder what’s already dead, can you? Her mind taunted. She swallowed bile. She needed to get herself under control. But even though she knew he meant well, that he was only answering her questions, her hand tingled. It twitched like a living thing struck with urges she quashed quickly. He was unknowingly callous, frightening even, this man who spoke of and with experience. Each word made her blink, they hammered the reality in, and Bonnie paled when he finished. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I need…prices. I can’t decide till I have those. No one should know.” My brothers won’t know. She felt as if she was on a Ravosala. The world tipped dangerously. Bonnie knew she had contradicted herself, her words churned until they were butter. Slippery and melting through her fingers. It made a mess.

“Tell how much the cheapest death poison is.” She breathed redundantly. Bonnie was trying to match his chipper attitude. She stood a bit taller, shoved her shoulders down, relaxed. She could do that. She could do this. “Maybe you can show me it, too.”


Next I’ll be asking him to let me try it. The thought broke through the chaos, and with it was a true, if not bitter, smile. Bonnie thought that if it were anyone else she could enjoy his wink. But it was her momma. It was her stories. It was years of someone she didn’t know parading around in her mommas skin. The thoughts made things better and worse. Again her hands twitched. Bonnie spun herself away, she almost tumbled to the floor but caught herself and peered around better. There was nothing for her to see but it was something for her to do.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar sighed with somewhat stressed patience. 'Why don't people make up their minds about their intent before they come in here?' he asked himself rhetorically. The young woman was starting to get twitchy now, her eyes darting about nervously as though someone was going to leap out of some shadow and arrest her. She suddenly turned as if she was going to bolt. Inoadar would have been glad to hold the door for her, but instead she nearly fell over, then apparently changed her mind.

"Are you alright, Miss?" he asked in some concern. With the waning of the Flu that had recently run through the populace, he was not eager to contract it again. "Why don't you sit down and consider, once and for all, exactly what you are looking for. Is this a suicide or not? And if so, is it for you, or your brother?" Frankly, Inoadar figured the girl was plotting to kill a rival sibling for some estate. That was not an uncommon motivation among those who visited his shop. Who was he to judge?

Another thought dawned on him. It was his standard practice to leave some poorly sealed vials among his display goods. It was a shoplifting deterrent. The goods on display were clearly marked to have only a shop employee handle them. Anyone planning to steal would certainly not obey that rule. And anyone that did not obey it was truly taking their life into their hands. More than one object lesson had been found blocks away, swollen, blackened tongue extending from the grimacing face of a body warped by an agonized death.

"Did you touch any of the vials on display. If so, you may be more immediately interested in an antidote than a poison." he offered. "They are clearly marked not to touch." She didn't act as though this was any additional concern to her. He shrugged and began to consider some of her new specifics.

"Look, miss, you said something about "painless", but now you say you want something cheap...the "cheapest death poison" you said. Most of these goods will kill you if you if you take enough of them. Some only need a single dose. But I can promise you, none of the "cheap" ones are going to be painless. There is a great deal of deadeners, protein catalysts and enzyme inhibitors involved in making something deadly, while at the same time, not affecting anything that brings pain. As a general rule, someone that wants to cause death, is only worried about the "comfort" of the victim inasmuch as it allows them to escape undetected or unsuspected."


The girl seemed trapped somehow to Inoadar. Like she knew what she wanted, but knew it was beyond her reach. Inoadar considered the benefits of having someone that owed him a big favor, especially if she was a citizen. "I can't help you by speculating about what you might want. And price seems to be an object. So I'll tell you what, you tell me your name, and exactly what your situation is, and I will cut you a deal in exchange for a favor returned to me at some later date."

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

Inoadar

Skills

~ Rhetoric - 2
~ Leadership - 2
~ Persuasion - 1

Lores

N/A

Other

N/A

Notes

Bonnie, please update your ledger before I can hand out your grade.

Otherwise, that was... a tiny bit amusing, and creepy at the same time. Did that character really want to commit suicide? Or... something.