[ Psyche pauses, glancing over at the interruption as she begins to neatly fold the paper she was writing on. The motion is unhurried but seamless, covering the text before Waltaquin can get too close. One eyebrow lifts; the hesitation draws out a beat longer than it ordinarily might, as though her thoughts are uncharacteristically far away.
Maybe, considering the events of the day, not altogether surprising? ]
Oh... Waltaquin. I was only taking a moment to think. What were you doing here this late?
[She certainly wouldn't try looking at the letter, even if it wasn't folded and outside of her reach. What she would do, however, is sit right up on the edge of the table next to her, performing an immediate, but by now familiar, bridge into her personal space.]
I've been preoccupied. Time has simply slipped away from me. I haven't eaten, so I thought something sweet would tide me over until the morning. Now that I'm here, though, I'm a little indecisive.
[She's not sure exactly what would feel safest to eat at the moment.] Any recommendations? [Psyche is nearly the only person she would offer to get a snack for.]
[ She glances up at Waltaquin in momentary surprise before giving her a slightly pensive smile, but she doesn't pull away from the sudden approach. How cozy. ]
There are pastries on the buffet, but... are you certain you'd feel safe eating those? I'm sorry, I don't know how to make any sweets.
[ Probably unsurprising, given Psyche's kitchen inexperience. Baking is its own art. ]
Worried I'll break the commitment I made in lieu of a promise? [She chuckles softly.] I might skip the confections on the buffet and make something simple myself.
[She's no cook, and, as they discussed some weeks ago, not completely inundated with chemistry, either. But how hard could it be to turn some frozen fruit into a paste and layer it with chocolate, or something?]
Will you have something? You've been foregoing sleep as long as I have.
[And she must be tired; though in her exhaustion more often than not it seems they gravitate closer to one another rather than apart. It just seems sensical to be in such close quarters.]
[ Oh, this is going in a letter postscript... Psyche's eyes flicker in a slow blink, but she smiles at the suggestion. ]
I'd love to, but... I should be going to check on Wei Wuxian soon. It's a little difficult to think about eating right now. I just couldn't rest until I'd looked around the kitchen again.
[ She reaches for Waltaquin's hand to give it an apologetic squeeze. ]
Of course. Perhaps at the theater, yes? Far be it from me to keep you from what you needs must.
[When Psyche reaches for her hand, she takes it, her grip tight as usually. She doesn't squeeze and let go right away but instead holds her firm, letting their fingers lace together.]
After today, you would tell me if you were feeling unwell, weren't you? [She's so...lethargic. None of the jittery, hunted rabbit energy that has characterized her fussing when unable to directly help others before. Perhaps she really has run herself to exhaustion, something that Waltaquin always wondered if she'd see.]
[ She looks down at their joined fingers as if at a puzzle, making no attempt yet to extricate her hand. After a moment she gives another reassuring flex of her fingers and her smile softens. ]
I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you... I'm fine, really. I just feel so tired. It isn't the first time my healing hasn't worked, but... it brought back some unpleasant memories, that's all. I really will feel better after a little rest.
[Waltaquin's tendency to wear gloves even with her island-acquired attire has likely given their various gestures a bit of distance... or maybe it hasn't at all, creating a weight that she didn't think was possible despite it all. Psyche is probably the first and last person who will ever say they found comfort in her. Even then, could she say that she is worried?
Is that what she's feeling now, finding her first and likely last friend acting so weakened? She tugs on their hands.]
Really? I had no idea it was a sore subject. Your friend? The one my present reminded you of?
[First the theater, now... What had she told Psyche the other night?
Pick an honest person and give them occasion to lie.]
GHDKFJDSF sorry for the inevitable mild YT spoilers
[ That sparks a flicker of something in Psyche's eyes; interest, perhaps, though not her customary bubbly curiosity. More a moment of assessment, her expression held rather still before she lets out a quiet sigh and frowns. ]
There was an explosion during an important event... a wall collapsed, and dozens of people were hurt and killed. She wasn't among the injured. But I couldn't do anything to help those who were. I know it isn't my fault, but...
[ She shakes her head, turning her face away a little and tugging a tiny bit at her hand still held in Waltaquin's as if to withdraw. ]
That sounds like an assassination attempt. [Quin says this halfway to herself. More accurately, it sounds like the diversion for an assassination to happen underneath. Who knows how things are done in this other country, though?
She had pulled her hands away from Psyche's hair quickly a few days ago, unsure if her gentle correction was a rebuke. Now, she seems hesitant to release the hand in hers, though her grip still has the same quality to it, not aware of what is too hard or too long.
Finally she allows it, letting the hand slip through hers, though her fingertips skirt Psyche's palm on the way.]
How fortunate for you, at least, for her not to have been. The church in my country is rotten underneath, but you may really be divinely protected. [She chews on that sentence - and will allow Psyche to do the same.]
This, too, is not your fault, you understand that?
[ Her lips part as if in consideration of clarifying, but in the end she lets it slide in much the same way Waltaquin's fingertips skim along her palm. She gives a little answering caress as she draws her hand back; perhaps reluctant to let go, even though she'd been the one to pull away. ]
Oh, there's corruption in our church down to its bones. But there's no doubt that the guardian god of Vasilios has a hand on my soul.
[ She gives Waltaquin another smile sidelong and tips her head in a nod. ]
Logically... I know that. I just have to keep reminding myself. Thank you, Waltaquin. You're always so sweet.
[Her expression had been doing a decent job at remaining restrained, but that just cracks it wide open.]
Only you could say that! [How would she feel, if that were true? If she thought for even a moment that she would be perceived that way? But Psyche knows her too well, in that strange way where she looks both through her and at her directly and hopes to see something in the empty middle.] I wish more than anything that I could tell you that.
[ There's a very still moment where she seems to weigh the answer, her eyes wide and intent on Waltaquin's face. And then she lets the expression slip entirely, the tiredness and the reserve all falling away to cool amusement instead as she clicks her tongue. ]
Was it so unthinkable? You were comforting her so extravagantly.
[ Amusement, however, doesn't keep her from taking a prudent step back to leave clearance for her to draw her sword. ]
Unfortunately, I haven't the time. It's a pity. I confess to a little curiosity whether that self-description of yours was more than bluster.
[Ah, she's standing. Best meet her at the table in turn. Very slowly, like a cat stretching from its position in the sun, Waltaquin rises, taking a step back herself so she's edgewise at the table.]
You know it is with her and physical affection. [It isn't said derisively, just amused. She can't replicate the warm kindness of the touch, and without Psyche to initiate it, that was really all she could do.]
It's really you, isn't it? [She laughs, a full raucous bark of it. Waltaquin doesn't quite understand herself exactly what drew her to this conclusion, but there has to be something - a thing that she heard before, a danger, a reflection. Her heart is pulsing hard.] Oh, how does that work, I wonder. Consider my curiosity also thoroughly piqued!
She thinks we're alike, you know. Told me I'd like you.
Did she? Considering the circumstances, I could wish she'd said as much to me.
[ Medea watches with her head slightly cocked, taking in each movement as though observing a performance whose quality she's yet to decide on. Just which resemblance had Psyche been meaning to suggest? A rabbit's instinctive recognition of the shadow of a circling raptor? She hasn't decided yet if she's offended. ]
Her letters have been rather— [ rushed, short, focused on things of lesser importance ] incomplete. I can see she's omitted quite a bit. Now, why would she have made a comparison like that...?
[ "Practical and direct," Psyche had written; an early impression, she assumes, but nonetheless entirely inadequate to the decidedly fey woman who could let out a laugh like that. ]
Who can really say? [Not Psyche, since she isn't here. It's also the first thing a woman would say to a young lady of comparable age, if she wanted to be trusted by them. Who wouldn't open up to someone who already looked at you in the same light as a friend?
Waltaquin folds her hands in front of her. Her unquenchable curiosity is still unfurling. She's spent a lot of time in noble sport, but it's so depressing to have to do it now when she'd rather throw everything in the air at once.]
Since you're here now, I would hope you could elucidate, though she may have been concealing her own hand. [Like feeling for a burst organ under the skin, she puts a little pressure on it, noticeably.]
But since you're here now, she must be in over her head. [Someone who has time to sit and write a letter probably didn't intervene for reasons of immediate danger, so... Well. She's pretty sure she knows what kind of knowledge was invoked.]
[ Waltaquin could hazard a guess, she assumes. Evasion, or simply disinterest? Well... Medea hadn't entirely been lying about time being short. In a number of senses, she rather prefers this approach. ]
Who can say? [ There's a very deliberate twist of her lips for that, but she continues on smoothly. ] If she were playing so cautiously, I think I should be a little proud. Very well. I prefer sparring to dancing. Does that suit you as well?
[ She draws the folded letter from her pocket and taps it thoughtfully against her lips as she watches Waltaquin, gauging her for a reaction with amusement. ]
Since it seems there hasn't been another death - yet - I imagine you can guess what forced her hand. Shall I show you my theories if you'll share your own?
[She is always a little proud of Psyche when she does things like that, in the way fire is proud to see sand become glass. Is it the same? Perhaps they aren't so different.]
We could have fun, but you did say you didn't have the time. I've been dying to find a worthwhile challenge.
[There's a tacit agreement to open her mental file on the situation; she does, in fact, know why Psyche would act so decisively.]
It's very noticeable, actually - almost by design. In fact, I've considered the target may not have been Wei Wuxian but his adjacents.
It's also notable that the poison enabled his power instead of restricting it, and as someone who wouldn't just test a new dangerous spell on herself, I believe someone else may have seen the same opportunity.
Have you? What a pity she can't bring you back with her. I've a puzzle that might satisfy even that hunger.
[ What an interesting addition to her little array of pieces that would be, wouldn't it? Sorcery and dark arts. Medea smiles a little at the whimsy of it. ]
Interesting. I presume in your estimation he isn't the sort to test on himself, either. I'm afraid my only impression of the man is that he's a liar. [ Well, perhaps a bit more than that. She leaves it aside. ] I admit... I wondered if it might be just your sort of experiment. I don't suppose you'd like to confess and simplify my work here?
I believe his grandeur weighs out his self-sacrifice in this regard. Haha... Of course he is a liar. In some ways we really are alike, though I could do with less of the self-loathing. [This isn't said with any particular bite; she really does like Wei Wuxian.]
My similarities with Wang Lu are less noticeable, though to me they are quite apparent.
[They are too often on the same wavelength for him to not have at least a little insight into her. But Psyche, Waltaquin imagines, knows what she's doing - though she may be idealistic, she does not take wolves for puppies.
(This may reinforce itself a day later, when Psyche brings up her ex-fiance and Waltaquin knows: She doesn't need liberation; she could easily kill him herself.)]
Hee hee. I could confess, but you've already ruled me out, or you wouldn't have asked. [Short-timed or not, she thinks that giving her a length of rope to hang herself with would be too irresistible, too sweet a game.] So what's your real theory?
Edited (sorry i realized there wasn't enough unsettling laugher ) 2023-06-16 17:39 (UTC)
[ Medea clicks her tongue briefly, more amusement than annoyance; at what, she doesn't clarify. ]
And I assume it would be too simple to hope that Wang Lu poisoned his companion. I could wish I had the time to hear your impressions of all of them. I don't question her judgment... only her tact.
[ What to do. She dislikes to tip her hand about how limited her information is, but then, a calculated gamble in order to win a greater prize... And really, what are the risks when she's already so keenly attuned for — and anticipating? — being lied to? ]
A poison that amplifies his power, with physical consequences that resist healing? I see two likely possibilities. [ She holds up a finger. ] That those who brought you here wish to create powerful but disposable weapons and saw an opportunity to test their findings. [ She holds up a second. ] That one of those trapped here is discontent to wait as you're picked off like livestock being led to the slaughter. They wish to find a method of fighting back against your captors. It really would be rather disappointingly trite if it were the doctor. Although what a convenient advantage, to have a ready reason to examine the side effects of such a drug, hm?
[She barks out another hyehyeh.] Find me again if you ever do. I must still solve the mystery of our purported similarity.
[Arms crossed, circling a bit as she ponders, so they may as well be two big cats pacing. It helps, sometimes, to move when she is restless, but this is not nervousness so much as searching along the wall for a mousehole.]
Worth noting that the creature encountered at the waterfall laboratory could apparently regenerate. I'd no occasion to see it myself.
I imagine the overseers did not get involved because he didn't die. They are either unbothered or expected it or both. The doctor is too obvious, but so is the man who made us the first drinks to begin with.
A third option, if you would, Medea: One discontent enough to ally themselves against the rest of us under the pretense of curing our ills. A..hahah...a double-agent, or even more than that.
That, or they simply feel confident that any of you would be replaceable. Though I imagine they would prefer not to expend the effort if it could be avoided.
[ Medea watches Waltaquin pace, tracking her movements with no sign of concern. If anything her gaze is slightly distant as she pages through the profiles in her mind. ]
Oh? For what purpose? Personal amusement, or simply to ensure they came out ahead? It would seem that if they only wished to dispose of the others here, it wouldn't be difficult at all to poison them outright.
[ It is so annoying to be forced to guess at the motivations of others on the basis of so little information. Should she be flattered by Psyche's apparently boundless faith in her, or perhaps frustrated? It's a conversation she can look forward to later. One hopes. ]
Oh? Presumably they couldn't, based on whatever restrictions this island enforced on them.
Namely, time. Resources. Keeping the garrote off of their own neck or someone else's. I've been threatened with no such thing, but I suppose I'd need someone whose fate I cared about so much for that.
They may also be playing to position themselves at an advantage for a future move. It's not fun if you throw the whole chessboard in the fire.
At the very least, I should conclude we aren't looking at desperation.
Hm. The resources to produce something with this effect, but not a more potent poison or a higher dose?
[ Medea raises an eyebrow a little, but she'll accept it provisionally. It would be in line with constraints placed on powers... hm. ]
I wonder if I should be offended on her behalf, that you're so willing to give her gifts but so unconcerned about her fate. [ Not that Psyche needs a(nother) guardian reaper, all things considered. ] But your point is taken. I agree that it seems entirely too restrained to be such a thing. Someone is playing a longer game, or they would have simply used the opportunity presented by him being weakened to remove another piece.
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Maybe, considering the events of the day, not altogether surprising? ]
Oh... Waltaquin. I was only taking a moment to think. What were you doing here this late?
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I've been preoccupied. Time has simply slipped away from me. I haven't eaten, so I thought something sweet would tide me over until the morning. Now that I'm here, though, I'm a little indecisive.
[She's not sure exactly what would feel safest to eat at the moment.] Any recommendations? [Psyche is nearly the only person she would offer to get a snack for.]
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There are pastries on the buffet, but... are you certain you'd feel safe eating those? I'm sorry, I don't know how to make any sweets.
[ Probably unsurprising, given Psyche's kitchen inexperience. Baking is its own art. ]
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[She's no cook, and, as they discussed some weeks ago, not completely inundated with chemistry, either. But how hard could it be to turn some frozen fruit into a paste and layer it with chocolate, or something?]
Will you have something? You've been foregoing sleep as long as I have.
[And she must be tired; though in her exhaustion more often than not it seems they gravitate closer to one another rather than apart. It just seems sensical to be in such close quarters.]
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I'd love to, but... I should be going to check on Wei Wuxian soon. It's a little difficult to think about eating right now. I just couldn't rest until I'd looked around the kitchen again.
[ She reaches for Waltaquin's hand to give it an apologetic squeeze. ]
Could we do it tomorrow, maybe?
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[When Psyche reaches for her hand, she takes it, her grip tight as usually. She doesn't squeeze and let go right away but instead holds her firm, letting their fingers lace together.]
After today, you would tell me if you were feeling unwell, weren't you? [She's so...lethargic. None of the jittery, hunted rabbit energy that has characterized her fussing when unable to directly help others before. Perhaps she really has run herself to exhaustion, something that Waltaquin always wondered if she'd see.]
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[ She looks down at their joined fingers as if at a puzzle, making no attempt yet to extricate her hand. After a moment she gives another reassuring flex of her fingers and her smile softens. ]
I'm sorry. I didn't want to worry you... I'm fine, really. I just feel so tired. It isn't the first time my healing hasn't worked, but... it brought back some unpleasant memories, that's all. I really will feel better after a little rest.
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Is that what she's feeling now, finding her first and likely last friend acting so weakened? She tugs on their hands.]
Really? I had no idea it was a sore subject. Your friend? The one my present reminded you of?
[First the theater, now... What had she told Psyche the other night?
Pick an honest person and give them occasion to lie.]
GHDKFJDSF sorry for the inevitable mild YT spoilers
There was an explosion during an important event... a wall collapsed, and dozens of people were hurt and killed. She wasn't among the injured. But I couldn't do anything to help those who were. I know it isn't my fault, but...
[ She shakes her head, turning her face away a little and tugging a tiny bit at her hand still held in Waltaquin's as if to withdraw. ]
grips your hands tightly...!
She had pulled her hands away from Psyche's hair quickly a few days ago, unsure if her gentle correction was a rebuke. Now, she seems hesitant to release the hand in hers, though her grip still has the same quality to it, not aware of what is too hard or too long.
Finally she allows it, letting the hand slip through hers, though her fingertips skirt Psyche's palm on the way.]
How fortunate for you, at least, for her not to have been. The church in my country is rotten underneath, but you may really be divinely protected. [She chews on that sentence - and will allow Psyche to do the same.]
This, too, is not your fault, you understand that?
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Oh, there's corruption in our church down to its bones. But there's no doubt that the guardian god of Vasilios has a hand on my soul.
[ She gives Waltaquin another smile sidelong and tips her head in a nod. ]
Logically... I know that. I just have to keep reminding myself. Thank you, Waltaquin. You're always so sweet.
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[Her expression had been doing a decent job at remaining restrained, but that just cracks it wide open.]
Only you could say that! [How would she feel, if that were true? If she thought for even a moment that she would be perceived that way? But Psyche knows her too well, in that strange way where she looks both through her and at her directly and hopes to see something in the empty middle.] I wish more than anything that I could tell you that.
Do you want to keep playing?
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Was it so unthinkable? You were comforting her so extravagantly.
[ Amusement, however, doesn't keep her from taking a prudent step back to leave clearance for her to draw her sword. ]
Unfortunately, I haven't the time. It's a pity. I confess to a little curiosity whether that self-description of yours was more than bluster.
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You know it is with her and physical affection. [It isn't said derisively, just amused. She can't replicate the warm kindness of the touch, and without Psyche to initiate it, that was really all she could do.]
It's really you, isn't it? [She laughs, a full raucous bark of it. Waltaquin doesn't quite understand herself exactly what drew her to this conclusion, but there has to be something - a thing that she heard before, a danger, a reflection. Her heart is pulsing hard.] Oh, how does that work, I wonder. Consider my curiosity also thoroughly piqued!
She thinks we're alike, you know. Told me I'd like you.
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[ Medea watches with her head slightly cocked, taking in each movement as though observing a performance whose quality she's yet to decide on. Just which resemblance had Psyche been meaning to suggest? A rabbit's instinctive recognition of the shadow of a circling raptor? She hasn't decided yet if she's offended. ]
Her letters have been rather— [ rushed, short, focused on things of lesser importance ] incomplete. I can see she's omitted quite a bit. Now, why would she have made a comparison like that...?
[ "Practical and direct," Psyche had written; an early impression, she assumes, but nonetheless entirely inadequate to the decidedly fey woman who could let out a laugh like that. ]
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Waltaquin folds her hands in front of her. Her unquenchable curiosity is still unfurling. She's spent a lot of time in noble sport, but it's so depressing to have to do it now when she'd rather throw everything in the air at once.]
Since you're here now, I would hope you could elucidate, though she may have been concealing her own hand. [Like feeling for a burst organ under the skin, she puts a little pressure on it, noticeably.]
But since you're here now, she must be in over her head. [Someone who has time to sit and write a letter probably didn't intervene for reasons of immediate danger, so... Well. She's pretty sure she knows what kind of knowledge was invoked.]
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Who can say? [ There's a very deliberate twist of her lips for that, but she continues on smoothly. ] If she were playing so cautiously, I think I should be a little proud. Very well. I prefer sparring to dancing. Does that suit you as well?
[ She draws the folded letter from her pocket and taps it thoughtfully against her lips as she watches Waltaquin, gauging her for a reaction with amusement. ]
Since it seems there hasn't been another death - yet - I imagine you can guess what forced her hand. Shall I show you my theories if you'll share your own?
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We could have fun, but you did say you didn't have the time. I've been dying to find a worthwhile challenge.
[There's a tacit agreement to open her mental file on the situation; she does, in fact, know why Psyche would act so decisively.]
It's very noticeable, actually - almost by design. In fact, I've considered the target may not have been Wei Wuxian but his adjacents.
It's also notable that the poison enabled his power instead of restricting it, and as someone who wouldn't just test a new dangerous spell on herself, I believe someone else may have seen the same opportunity.
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[ What an interesting addition to her little array of pieces that would be, wouldn't it? Sorcery and dark arts. Medea smiles a little at the whimsy of it. ]
Interesting. I presume in your estimation he isn't the sort to test on himself, either. I'm afraid my only impression of the man is that he's a liar. [ Well, perhaps a bit more than that. She leaves it aside. ] I admit... I wondered if it might be just your sort of experiment. I don't suppose you'd like to confess and simplify my work here?
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My similarities with Wang Lu are less noticeable, though to me they are quite apparent.
[They are too often on the same wavelength for him to not have at least a little insight into her. But Psyche, Waltaquin imagines, knows what she's doing - though she may be idealistic, she does not take wolves for puppies.
(This may reinforce itself a day later, when Psyche brings up her ex-fiance and Waltaquin knows: She doesn't need liberation; she could easily kill him herself.)]
Hee hee. I could confess, but you've already ruled me out, or you wouldn't have asked. [Short-timed or not, she thinks that giving her a length of rope to hang herself with would be too irresistible, too sweet a game.] So what's your real theory?
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And I assume it would be too simple to hope that Wang Lu poisoned his companion. I could wish I had the time to hear your impressions of all of them. I don't question her judgment... only her tact.
[ What to do. She dislikes to tip her hand about how limited her information is, but then, a calculated gamble in order to win a greater prize... And really, what are the risks when she's already so keenly attuned for — and anticipating? — being lied to? ]
A poison that amplifies his power, with physical consequences that resist healing? I see two likely possibilities. [ She holds up a finger. ] That those who brought you here wish to create powerful but disposable weapons and saw an opportunity to test their findings. [ She holds up a second. ] That one of those trapped here is discontent to wait as you're picked off like livestock being led to the slaughter. They wish to find a method of fighting back against your captors. It really would be rather disappointingly trite if it were the doctor. Although what a convenient advantage, to have a ready reason to examine the side effects of such a drug, hm?
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[Arms crossed, circling a bit as she ponders, so they may as well be two big cats pacing. It helps, sometimes, to move when she is restless, but this is not nervousness so much as searching along the wall for a mousehole.]
Worth noting that the creature encountered at the waterfall laboratory could apparently regenerate. I'd no occasion to see it myself.
I imagine the overseers did not get involved because he didn't die. They are either unbothered or expected it or both. The doctor is too obvious, but so is the man who made us the first drinks to begin with.
A third option, if you would, Medea: One discontent enough to ally themselves against the rest of us under the pretense of curing our ills. A..hahah...a double-agent, or even more than that.
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[ Medea watches Waltaquin pace, tracking her movements with no sign of concern. If anything her gaze is slightly distant as she pages through the profiles in her mind. ]
Oh? For what purpose? Personal amusement, or simply to ensure they came out ahead? It would seem that if they only wished to dispose of the others here, it wouldn't be difficult at all to poison them outright.
[ It is so annoying to be forced to guess at the motivations of others on the basis of so little information. Should she be flattered by Psyche's apparently boundless faith in her, or perhaps frustrated? It's a conversation she can look forward to later. One hopes. ]
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Namely, time. Resources. Keeping the garrote off of their own neck or someone else's. I've been threatened with no such thing, but I suppose I'd need someone whose fate I cared about so much for that.
They may also be playing to position themselves at an advantage for a future move. It's not fun if you throw the whole chessboard in the fire.
At the very least, I should conclude we aren't looking at desperation.
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[ Medea raises an eyebrow a little, but she'll accept it provisionally. It would be in line with constraints placed on powers... hm. ]
I wonder if I should be offended on her behalf, that you're so willing to give her gifts but so unconcerned about her fate. [ Not that Psyche needs a(nother) guardian reaper, all things considered. ] But your point is taken. I agree that it seems entirely too restrained to be such a thing. Someone is playing a longer game, or they would have simply used the opportunity presented by him being weakened to remove another piece.
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