The second attempt is much more of a hassle because they use poison. They use belladonna , the bastards. If Taako ever found out-
But Taako won't find out. No one is going to find out. No one needs to know about this, after all. It's Lucretia's problem, Lucretia's responsibility. Taking care of herself- not forcing the job onto anyone else- is the least she can do after everything she's already put them through, after all.
The second assassin doesn't strike until months after the first. She's been- well, to put a fine point on it, Lucretia has been getting a little tired of waiting to die. She's ready. She's been ready. And yet, against all odds, Lucretia is alive.
The list has been gathering dust in her drawer. Davenport has not returned from his wanderings, so he isn't around to do it. Merle and Magnus are chasing happiness- hell, they both write to her, happy little notes devoid of any substance. She keeps waiting for the letters to fill with vitriol, anger, passion. Instead, Magnus asks if she's ever considered getting a dog.
(She has, but there's something wrong with her, something inside of her is deadly to living things. Everything she loves she turns to dust. She can't turn that on a harmless animal. She has a responsibility to contain her own poison touch.)
Taako doesn't write. Sometimes Lucretia catches sight of his new cooking show on fantasy Food Network. The first time she realized it was Taako on screen, she'd sat down and binged the entire season. But when the screen went blank and she caught sight of her own over-bright eyes in the reflection, Lucretia had quickly decided it was a bit voyeuristic to keep watching and never turned it back on. Still, she hears his ratings are off the charts. He's writing a new cookbook.
Lup and Barry are the same radio silent as Davenport, although she suspects they spend time with Taako the most. It makes sense, after all. She's taken so much time away from the twins, they're probably inseparable now.
She'd taken so much time from them all- but they aren't taking advantage of the time she's given them. Months now, and no one has come to collect on her debt. Lucretia is ready to pay; the price hangs heavy as an albatross around her neck but no one comes for the toll. The list is starting to yellow, crinkle at the edges. What is she to do if they don't collect?
Find Daniel, Lucretia's mind tells her sensibly. Pay the price to him. Give him what peace you can.
It's the logical next step, after all. Go down the list until she finds the one who will take what she offers freely. Sometimes Lucretia wonders if she should've just taken Daniel up on his offer the night he managed to slip into her office.
Still, it's a difficult thing to wait to see which old friend- she can't allow herself to call them family, not anymore-will come for her. Not that Lucretia could ever blame them for not wanting to come into contact with her- there are many days, most days, all days- she wishes she could get away from herself. There is something so strange in hating yourself; Lucretia doesn't remember a time her skin didn't crawl as if it were sentient, as if it wanted to tear free of her. Sometimes it gets to be too much; the ache of her self-disgust beats such a tattoo against her ribs she looks down when she changes into her nightgown and is surprised to find no bruises. Her blood feels close to boiling from the heat of her hatred. She wants it to end- she wants her to end.
And yet, Lucretia lives. She lives, and she works and she tries not to pay attention to that ever deafening voice in the back of her head asking how long she expects to go on like this.
Not long, she promises. Not long. Just another day- someone will come tomorrow. I can give them all justice tomorrow.
Finally, she has to admit to herself the reality of her situation. Lucretia's given them four months to kill her and no one has lifted a hand. Daniel will be getting impatient with her, and Lucretia cannot blame him. She is not one to run from her responsibilities.
I'll give them one more month, she bargains. Then something must be done.
It's only when she really thinks about it that Lucretia realizes her error.
"Oh, of course, you dolt," she murmurs. She's staring down at yet more paperwork, dealing with a landslide just outside of Neverwinter. The realization comes like the rocks slammed right into her. "They don't want to touch you ."
Why would they? After all, Lucretia is incredibly aware of the blood she drenched their hands in on her own behalf. Taking a life leaves scars on a person and hasn't she already vowed to stop harming those she loves? They haven't come because they can't be bothered to kill Lucretia; it'll leave too much for them to remember. If she waits for them to kill her, if she forces the task on any of the other seven birds, Lucretia will be forcing them to live with her memory dogging their footsteps to the grave. If she truly wants to make a clean break, if she really cares for them, she'll make sure to leave them an out, a way to move on from her.
Still, she'll wait one more month. Just in case someone changes their mind. It's the least she can do.
Recently Lucretia, if she were to be honest, has not been at her prime. She's losing sleep- night terrors are a bitch- and she hasn't been eating. It's hard to swallow when your heart rejects the very idea of letting someone like yourself continue to exist. Lucretia's mind has to agree; she doesn't deserve to live, so why bother helping her body continue to survive? Her stomach roils at the very sight of the dinners Avi has taken to pushing on her; even her internal organs riot at the idea of Lucretia walking around for another day. Her very blood demands the price of her guilt to be paid in full and Lucretia is bewildered, even with her recent epiphany, why none of the others have come forward to exact their vengeance. She can barely hold herself back from turning the Bulwark Staff on herself on the good days.
One more month, she tells herself. Eat for one more month. Sleep for one more month. Then you can stop. Then you can stop.
She's idly considered adding Avi and Killian and Carey to the list for what she's putting them through. Avi in particular must be growing to hate her picky eating, if nothing else.
Lucretia throws herself into work, the only respite she has left. She can't foist off her responsibilities to the Bureau on Killian and Carey just yet; they'll have plenty to do once she's gone. She can at least give them a nice honeymoon and a lighter workload while she's still around. Not that those two are grateful for it, the little wretches, she ponders fondly. They're always at her door these days, wondering if she needs help with anything, if she'd like to take a quick break and walk the grounds with them, really Madame Director, when was the last time you left your office?
It's just Lucretia now, she's wont to tell them, and I'm just fine here, thanks. Just fine here.
So it's almost a relief when someone tries to kill her again.
It's two days into the first week of her last month when Lucretia accepts a bowl of soup absently, unable to risk tearing her eyes away from her paperwork. She's been going over the yearly finances for her clerics for the past few hours and she needs to get this right before Killian gets here to force her to bed.
Lucretia has barely spared a thought to be glad that Avi sent a young orc woman to feed her in his stead and avoid an argument about her eating habits before she's gulping down a spoonful and the taste of belladonna is lingering on the back of her tongue.
"Poison, really?" Lucretia asks the orc when she raises her head, eyeing the dagger at her waist. "How droll."
"It's fast acting," the orc leers. She's by the door- good woman, Lucretia thinks, easy escape in case she sees Madame Director reaching for her spellslots - but she can't seem to tear herself away from the sight before her. It's quite unsettling, to be watched so closely, but Lucretia supposes whatever she's done to this young woman, the orc deserves a little entertainment. Still, she could look a little less gleeful about it. "No muss, no fuss."
"Silverpoint would have been faster." Lucretia mumbles, rising to her feet. She only stumbles slightly. "And no cure, so there's that."
Lucretia can see the hesitance in her eyes before the orc scoffs. "It's too hard to get a hold of."
"Fair enough. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to kill me at this time, but that simply gives you time to find that silverpoint venom, eh?"
Her would-be assassin looks taken aback and Lucretia has to stifle a hysterical giggle. Oh boy, it looks like the pain is spreading to her head already. She hopes she can get to the bathroom before she vomits; Carey would have a field day if she ruined her new carpet. It was a birthday gift.
"You'll never stop us coming for you. You're a monster, and monsters deserve to be put down. It's only a matter of time before we get to you."
Well. That's unnecessarily dramatic.
"And I don't intend to stop you my dear," Lucretia explains gently even though she's trembling and a sweat is breaking out all over her body and the edges of her vision are darkening. She's forgotten exactly how terrible belladonna is. "But you see, I just can't do it this month. Next month, perhaps. I could schedule an appointment, if you like. If I could get your name?"
But it seems that when she stumbles forward and has to catch herself on her staff Lucretia has worn out her guest's patience, and the orc whirls to shove open the door. She glares balefully back at Lucretia, who tips her head politely in goodbye.
"We are nameless, and numberless." The orc hisses. "And we will see our creed through."
"But of course," Lucretia agrees. "I'm sure you're all very capable. See you next month?"
The orc looks on the verge of attacking, but then her head jerks to the side, listening. In a moment, she is gone. Lucretia is left with nightshade cloying in her throat and far more questions than she is comfortable with.
She descends the steps to her desk, cursing her own ostentatious sense of interior design all the while, and only makes it halfway across the room before her knees give out. Lucretia hits the ground hard, moans, and clutches her stomach. If she can just get to the cleric on duty in the infirmary, she can ask him to perform Protection from Poison and still have enough time to finish her paperwork before lights out. She'll say it's a training exercise, or an employee evaluation. She'll think of something just as soon as her thoughts stop insisting on being so hazy.
Lucretia gets back up, takes three steps, and falls again. This time she bangs her head on the leg of a chair and swears colorfully. Lup taught her that.
Why do I have so many fucking chairs?
For a moment Lucretia is so, so tired. It would be so easy to stop. She's already on the ground, the poison is already spreading. She could wait for it to take effect, she could just let it happen. She could finally rest.
This isn't about you. You have debts to pay. Now get off your ass.
Lucretia gets up.
It only takes a minute or two before she's made it to the door but to Lucretia it might have been an hour or a day. Sweat pools in the dip of her collarbones, runs down her back.
"This sucks," she mutters, leaning on her door jamb and debating just turning around to fetch her farspeech stone.
"That's what she said," says a voice Lucretia thought she may never hear again. Her head whips up and she has to steady herself as her vision swirls. Fucking nightshade.
Taako strides towards her on sure feet. For a moment, his beautiful face is twisted into the sneer Lucretia has become accustomed to seeing directed in her vicinity. But then something changes- she's not sure what. But his eyes catch on her face, trail down to where she's clutching her hip after landing on it in the last fall. He looks at her eyes and Lucretia darts hers down; her pupils are probably dilated.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
"Hail and well met to you too, Taako. Did you need something? It's late."
She can't let him know what happened. It's belladonna ; it would kill him. Or he might find and kill that orc for bringing nightshade near him. He doesn't need to be reminded of what Lucretia has done to him.
Maybe he's here to kill you, pipes up a hopeful voice. Maybe it really can end tonight.
He can't now. Not with belladonna in my system. If he finds out after, it'll crush him.
"Whatever. Magnus said you haven't been answering his letters and sent me to kick your ass into gear. So. Y'know. Get on it."
"Right," Lucretia says. Vomit tries to push past her throat and she swallows it valiantly. "Letter. Okay. Good talk."
Taako huffs, flips his hair over his shoulder. "Glad we're on the same page; I'd hate to have to come here and see your ugly mug again. Although if you need that ass kicking, just let me know."
"Any time," Lucretia offers, and her tone isn't joking. Taako, who was in the process of turning away, slides his eyes to her for another moment. Oh god, she's going to pass out if he doesn't leave soon.
"Who was that I saw leaving? She took off in a hurry."
"A client," Lucretia invents quickly. "Nothing too big, just making an appointment for next month. Was there something else you needed?" Oh, talking makes it worse.
"Are you- I mean." Taako shifts from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. Of course he's uncomfortable, Lucretia is here. He has the right to be uncomfortable. "You look like shit, compadre."
"I just fell, Taako." Lucretia tries for a smile, feeling shaky. She's not sure if she manages it. "I'm old. That's what old people do. I'm on my way to the clerics now."
"Oh. Well." Taako's gaze drifts to her hip, snaps up to her face, takes in the sweat and feverish heat in her cheeks and the trembling in her limbs. He's always been too observant for his own good. "Okay."
He turns on his heel and leaves before she can say goodbye.
Lucretia shrugs, and limps her way to the clerics. She goes back and finishes her paperwork. She tidies her office before pulling out her list. Under Daniel's name, she pauses and, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, writes Bella.