Lyric had been doing her best to stay in character, keeping up the bubbly façade of a well-paid, *ahem*, "companion." The lavish setting of the brothel had been overwhelming at first, but once they settled into their roles, she had fallen into it surprisingly well. Well, until now.
As Mariam’s words snapped through the air, and the merchant's wandering hand finally triggered her breaking point, Lyric’s smile faltered for only a second. This wasn't part of the plan, but that didn't mean they couldn’t salvage it. Quick thinking was *her* specialty.
With a laugh that sounded far too lighthearted for the situation, Lyric bounced forward, clapping her hands together like the giggly companion she was pretending to be. Oh, darling! Mariam here gets so *passionate* sometimes. That temper of hers! She fluttered her eyelashes at the merchant, giving him a dazzling smile that could rival the sun. But I’m sure you didn’t mean to upset her, right? Just a little too much wine, perhaps?
Lyric turned to Mariam, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and gave her a quick wink. Why don’t we pour our dear benefactor another glass, sister? Let him relax... Her voice was laced with suggestion, and without missing a beat, she refilled the merchant’s goblet, giving him an almost conspiratorial grin.
You’ve been so generous, after all. Such a powerful man deserves nothing but the best, right? Lyric leaned in slightly, her hand brushing ever so gently over his as she handed him the drink, trying to draw his attention back to his ego instead of Mariam’s dagger-sharp threat.
Mariam's nostrils flared with irritation at the man, so much so that she didn't notice at first that Lyric had used her real name, but the man, currently accepting another full glass of wine, had caught it, "Oh you all use stage names too then! Are you really sisters then? Come now, let me see if that red matches down below!" Mariam was going to murder everyone and everything in that moment, even as she tried to let Lyric handle this part as she added a bit more sleeping powder to the bottle out of sight.
Of couuuuurse we're sisters, look at us, and tell me you can't tell we're from the same family, all this red hair and pale skin, why, everyone of us look like this, all six of us, all girls too, our poor Da. Because even if when he woke, he remembered a name, she had no family left in the world, save Gabe, so that would at least help her stay a step or two ahead.
And once the man was done drinking that goblet, she handed over the new bottle of wine, giving Lyric a face of disbelief the man was still concious, they'd given him enough of the herb to knock out a Warden completely, but the man was still upright, was he metabolizing it so fast that they couldn't get enough in him? But his eyes were glossy finally, maybe, just maybe they needed to wait a bit, another drink. Only the best for our benefactor.
And maybe a punch dagger through the ribs if he got handsy again like that.
Lyric’s bright smile stayed firmly in place, even as her thoughts raced a mile a minute. This merchant was *really* testing her patience—not an easy feat, considering she was known for her bubbly optimism. Still, if there was one thing she was good at, it was turning awkward, uncomfortable moments into something a little more… sparkly.
She caught Mariam’s wide-eyed look of disbelief and gave her a quick, reassuring wink. Everything was fine. Everything was *always* fine. Well, mostly. Probably.
Lyric stepped in closer, her voice lilting like a melody as she leaned toward the merchant, her movements as light and breezy as if they were chatting about the weather. Oh, *absolutely*, all six of us have this same gorgeous hair, skin like moonlight, and charm for days. Poor Da, though—he used to say we were like trying to herd a bunch of particularly excitable nuglets. Can you imagine? She giggled, the sound like the chiming of tiny bells, and gave the merchant’s arm a light pat, as if they were sharing the most delightful secret.
When Mariam handed over the wine bottle, Lyric kept her cheerful energy up, gently nudging the goblet back into the merchant’s hand. Now, now, no empty glasses at this table! You simply *must* toast to yourself—you’re our *very* favorite benefactor, after all. Who else could manage to sweep us off our feet with such panache? She fluttered her fingers in the air as if casting imaginary sparkles over him, her laughter warm and effervescent.
The merchant raised the goblet with a smug grin, and Lyric lifted an invisible glass of her own, miming a toast with exaggerated enthusiasm. To you, dear patron of fun and fabulousness! May your goblet always be full, your pockets overflowing, and your... um... adventures be just *slightly* less adventurous than tonight! She giggled again, leaning conspiratorially toward him as if they were old friends sharing a joke. Now, bottoms up! Don’t be shy!
As the merchant drained his goblet, Lyric leaned subtly toward Mariam, her voice dropping to a bubbly whisper that only her partner could hear. One more sip and he’ll be off to dreamland faster than a cat in a sunbeam, don’t you think? But if not, I have a song about sleepy little birds that’s been known to work wonders. It’s *very* catchy.
She gave Mariam a grin, her fingers drumming a cheerful rhythm on the table as she waited for the wine to do its work. All the while, she kept the energy light, her focus sharp beneath the glittering façade. This was going to work—she was sure of it. And if it didn’t, well... there was always Plan B. Or C. Or D.
All the nuglets, all over the place, all flaming red hair and fiery temper. Da never stood a chance. She nodded along as Lyric talked to the man, handing over another bottle of the wine as she sneered at the back of the targets head. She would be so happy once the job was done. If only this had been a simple case of letting the man get so drunk and then letting him walk off the end of the pier, it would have been so much easier to handle, after all, if the mark got himself killed in the process, that wasn't on them was it? But noo, she had to let herself be talked into a "leave the person alive" sort of deal. Mariam took a deep breath and tried to channel some sense of inner peace to deal with the low simmering rage that threatened to have her pulling a dagger and putting an end of the man, once and for all.
She leaned over the table to refill the man's mug again, catching Lyric's whisper, Couldn't hurt, was the whisper back as she switched the bottle to fill her and Lyric's mugs with the non-dosed wine. Now, one more time around the bend and then we'll sing you such a sweet song you'll forget all about any woe you've ever faced. She up-ended her mug, meaning to pretend to drink, but in all truth, her nerves were wearing thin and she needed to have a bit of the drink, so took a full mouthfuls before setting the mug down with a satisfied sigh, eyeballing the bottles again. Which was which, again?
Sun beams and lolli-pops, something like that, I think, wasn't it dear sister? And we all know what sort of lolli-pop [i]he[/i[ wants to have in his mouth right about now, our deer benefactor, ey?
Lyric’s laughter tinkled like wind chimes, though her eyes darted quickly to the bottles Mariam had been eyeing. She caught the slight shift in Mariam’s demeanor and silently noted it. Nerves fraying, bottles mixing—this was not the time to lose focus. But she trusted Mariam to hold it together. She always did.
Oh, Da never stood a chance, poor man, Lyric chimed in, her voice sugary sweet as she leaned toward the merchant, one hand lazily twirling a strand of her golden-red hair. It’s always chaos with sisters like us, you know. One moment we’re sweet as honey, and the next, well… we can be downright *feral*. Isn’t that right, Mariam?
Her tone took on a teasing lilt, her sparkling gaze flitting toward Mariam as if sharing a private joke. But beneath the veneer, Lyric was acutely aware of how close they were to pulling this off—or blowing their cover completely.
The merchant chuckled, albeit a bit sluggishly now, his fingers clumsily gripping the goblet as he raised it again to his lips. Lyric watched intently, the tension beneath her cheery exterior winding tighter with every sip.
Sunbeams and lollipops, indeed, dear sister, Lyric cooed, catching Mariam’s sly jab and running with it. Though I think our benefactor prefers his lollipops dipped in the finest elven honey. Isn’t that right? She tilted her head, her grin wide and dazzling, even as her stomach churned at the man’s lecherous smirk.
When his goblet finally tipped back again, Lyric leaned slightly toward Mariam, her voice soft and singsong. Almost there… He’s starting to sway. One more toast, maybe? Or shall we take bets on how long before he hits the floor?
Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, ready for whatever came next. If the man went down easy, they’d secure the ring, seal the deal, and be gone. If he didn’t… well, Lyric had a dozen more bright smiles and a head full of lullabies at the ready.
Adventure, after all, was about rolling with the unexpected. And she *did* love a good adventure.
Very Feral, Mariam nearly growled at the man, her voice dropping some and laced with something far more than just the normal teasing tone that had happened to come about during the interaction, no, this was far more danger, more threat, than any bit of teasing she could stomach. A warning. We've got elven honey for days, for someone as generous as our Benefactor. She could barely get the words out, stomach churning with the idea that one or both of them might actually have to kiss the letch. This wasn't in the plan. He should have been out by now, the sleeping agent they had been putting in his drink should have toppled a full grown great bear by now, the fact that the man was still awake meant that the agent they had been given was a dud, not likely since Gabe had vetted it himself, or the man had some sort of resistance. Or, all that fat was absorbing the agent.
She dumped the remaining agent into the wine, knowing it would be very bitter by this point, and stirred it, before slipping the freshly poured glass over, leaning into Lyric's side to whisper, If that doesn't knock him out, then we're going to have to be more creative. The drink was downed, and the man was singing with them now, drunkenly, his hands still trying to get at various folds of fabric to see skin. Mariam could put up with him making passes at her, but the moment his hand got to close to Lyric, she was smacking it away, tutting, Not yet, oh gracious one, a gift like her must be unwrapped slowly, as if that would ever happen.
Instead, the man finally started to doze off, one eye still open, as the first bit of snoring rose from him, thank the Maker she hadn't poured in enough to kill him, she was afraid she had. And probably was still a risk, all the more they had given him. Time would tell. Oh Benefactor... she crooned, to see if he was responsive, before motioning for Lyric to twist the ring off. She was already in motion to find the sealing wax and paperwork.
Lyric watched as the man sagged into the chair, his mouth slack, his breath slow and deep. **Finally.**
She tilted her head, watching him like a cat sizing up a sleeping mouse. “There we go, sweetheart. Dream of honey and lollipops,” she murmured, voice syrupy sweet.
Her eyes flicked to the ring on his thick, sausage-like fingers. Too tight. That would be a problem. She flexed her own fingers, considering. Cutting it off would be messy. Slipping it free would take finesse.
Mariam was already moving, reaching for the man's hand, but Lyric held up a finger. “Wait.” Her voice was barely a breath.
She crouched, her movements smooth, practiced. Her fingers ghosted over his knuckles, testing the fit, the give of his skin. Too much resistance. She pressed her lips together, thinking.
“This one's gonna take a little extra charm,” she whispered, reaching into her pocket. A small vial, clear liquid sloshing inside. Just a drop, rubbed into the skin, would make it slick enough to slide the ring off. No tugging. No waking.
She uncorked the vial, letting the scent of faint lavender and something chemical bloom in the air. A little trick she'd picked up in Prague.
“Alright, big guy,” she muttered, dabbing the liquid onto his knuckle, “let's make this easy.”
