[ WEEK FOUR – KILL LOG (LUST) ]

[sheriffexe]

[ What a fine evening to have a drink, probably!

It's Thursday night and as usual, the hotel is a little tense and jumpy. Most haviing retired to their rooms at this point, trying to sleep until tomorrow's misery -- but some find themselves lingering, perhaps too restless to sleep and eyes wide open for any suspicious movements.

This is where we'll find Lust and, eventually, Chane. ]

Comments

[a_sin_for_him]

[Full of wine as she is, Lust doesn't see any reason not to be friendly. They're all of them in the same position, more or less. All taken and trapped and forced into this madness. And it can be...nice, to be pleasant with others, she's learning. To simply enjoy companionship.]

[After the clinking of the glasses, she tips her head to Chane and takes a drink.]

[tightly]

[ -- that is, the liquor sloshes against her teeth and mostly closed lips. Her tongue will be numb for a few hours, but that's fine. It's not like she'll need it immediately.

For Lust, things will be considerably worse. It hadn't been difficult to mix in the tetrodotoxin with the wine and reseal the bottle by melting the cork, but the dosage is lethal upon oral ingestion. Within seconds, she will be unconscious as her body shuts down non-essential functioning to try and fight the foreign toxic substance. Paralysis will begin in the diaphragm; her death will come from respiratory failure soon after.

As it's already done, Chane sets down her glass and quietly waits.

Oddly, there's nothing triumphant about it. She takes no satisfaction from this, no sense of victory. What follows in Chane is a sense of necessary numbness, not dissimilar to what the other woman had been speaking out just seconds before, as she continues to climb this ... horrific, disdainful ladder.

No more, she knows. This is - the last. ]

[a_sin_for_him]

[It's almost immediate, the sensation that something is wrong. Lust's eyes widen, turning to the woman who'd shared the wine as her body begins to respond to the poison.]

[There isn't much time for thought, let alone words. Everything seems to be happening very quickly and very slowly all at once. There's a flash of accusatory surprise that turns to something close to resignation on Lust's face as the darkness flickers in. A sad sort of acceptance. She'd known she wouldn't survive this. But why her, of all people? Why now? It seems a cruel joke, but somehow fitting. This was what it all came to, all of the terrible mess here and before; a careless moment attempting to be friendly. She'd barely lived, and now it was over, just like that.]

[And she wouldn't even get to tell Eliot she'd told him so.]

[Whatever else her final thoughts are, they're blurred and buried as she loses consciousness and slips into the throes of death.]

[tightly]

[ Chane does a few things here. First, she wipes whatever of the poisoned wine may be lingering on her own lips -- although not until she's sure Lust's eyes are closed; there's no reason to condescend to the woman as she breathes her last. Secondly, she sits and waits, with only the ticking of the seconds and the indelicately loud thrumming of her own heartbeat to tell her how much time passes. At least five minutes, perhaps even ten.

Checking Lust's vitals quickly, finding the skin has already gone cold...

Well, that's the last thing Chane does. Here, at least. Standing straight and tall, she continues on. ]