Dorian's response doesn't surprise her. He's astute, and he's lived for a long time. Any immortal would be short-sighted to underestimate her wrath, but she isn't threatening violence against Dorian.
It can be worse. One can think they've suffered everything, but it can always be worse. With her terrible luck, immortality would have been true torment. She believes it is in some form for Dorian. And despite his confessions at the cafe, she believes that he cares enough to feel regret.
For as little as he's had, he should need no more. The potency makes it so that it would be unwise to drink all of the tea. It wouldn't be deadly, technically.
The effects should be felt any moment now, incredibly so, and she remains poised to sweep the cup away when his grip should weaken. ]
[Weaken it does. He has barely swallowed before he realizes he has made a mistake. The cup slips from his grasp as the world starts to spin. His head turns to look at her, pupils dilated, an exclamation on his lips that never makes it past his tongue.
At first, he feels betrayed, the face before him changed. Twisted into something he can't recognize. Then, he feels proud.
Because this is the kind of thing he would do, if he were in her shoes. Has done, when convenient.
But Angelique just felt betrayed as she choked to death, her pretty mouth opening for air that wouldn't come.
That's when he feels small.
So this is what it is to be on the other side of things. It's a sensation he never experienced before. Oh, he has tasted poisons before out of curiosity, but it's not about the symptoms. It's about being the fool. The one defeated before he knew there was a war.
Except he is still breathing, albeit more slowly. The usual poisoning symptoms aren't showing. The descent into sleep is alarmingly rapid, but perhaps...
It doesn't matter. He'll wake up either way. Hopefully.
He finds himself sinking to lie down on the couch, his eyes sliding shut.
It occurs to him just before the black takes him: it's not about whether or not they can wake up from death, is it? It never has been.]
[ A bit of it still spills, but only a few drops that scatter the couch cushion just before she steadies the saucer with her other hand. As he collapses, she watches him carefully, keeping an eye on his pattern of breathing while he rapidly fades.
The look that he passes to her is only mildly puzzling. ]
...Sleep well, Dorian.
[ She wonders if he can still see even before his eyes close. Vanessa has been drugged plenty of times, although not with this particular concoction. She picked it with purpose. It isn't poison.
But moderation is necessary. She hopes he has learned that lesson well.
After watching him for a moment longer, Vanessa will make certain that he's still breathing before she takes the cup back into the kitchen. Everything is cleaned and dried and put back as it was, with her 'tea' taken back with her, of course.
Vanessa will find a blanket to drape over him to keep him from catching any chill, but then she's gone, with barely any sign she was ever there. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Dorian's response doesn't surprise her. He's astute, and he's lived for a long time. Any immortal would be short-sighted to underestimate her wrath, but she isn't threatening violence against Dorian.
It can be worse. One can think they've suffered everything, but it can always be worse. With her terrible luck, immortality would have been true torment. She believes it is in some form for Dorian. And despite his confessions at the cafe, she believes that he cares enough to feel regret.
For as little as he's had, he should need no more. The potency makes it so that it would be unwise to drink all of the tea. It wouldn't be deadly, technically.
The effects should be felt any moment now, incredibly so, and she remains poised to sweep the cup away when his grip should weaken. ]
no subject
At first, he feels betrayed, the face before him changed. Twisted into something he can't recognize. Then, he feels proud.
Because this is the kind of thing he would do, if he were in her shoes. Has done, when convenient.
But Angelique just felt betrayed as she choked to death, her pretty mouth opening for air that wouldn't come.
That's when he feels small.
So this is what it is to be on the other side of things. It's a sensation he never experienced before. Oh, he has tasted poisons before out of curiosity, but it's not about the symptoms. It's about being the fool. The one defeated before he knew there was a war.
Except he is still breathing, albeit more slowly. The usual poisoning symptoms aren't showing. The descent into sleep is alarmingly rapid, but perhaps...
It doesn't matter. He'll wake up either way. Hopefully.
He finds himself sinking to lie down on the couch, his eyes sliding shut.
It occurs to him just before the black takes him: it's not about whether or not they can wake up from death, is it? It never has been.]
no subject
The look that he passes to her is only mildly puzzling. ]
...Sleep well, Dorian.
[ She wonders if he can still see even before his eyes close. Vanessa has been drugged plenty of times, although not with this particular concoction. She picked it with purpose. It isn't poison.
But moderation is necessary. She hopes he has learned that lesson well.
After watching him for a moment longer, Vanessa will make certain that he's still breathing before she takes the cup back into the kitchen. Everything is cleaned and dried and put back as it was, with her 'tea' taken back with her, of course.
Vanessa will find a blanket to drape over him to keep him from catching any chill, but then she's gone, with barely any sign she was ever there. ]