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Pick Your Poison, Thursday

"Who do I need to kill to get a massage around here?"

The question was rhetorical. Even the bath bombs, twitching with excess energy in their packaging, would not have anything to say to that. But Margo's favorite masseuse at Theodoric's was taking a sabbatical for quote-unquote 'reasons', and she didn't. Like it. One fucking bit.

She eyed the bath bombs from behind the counter. "Oh, don't give me that shifty-bubbly bullshit. Unless one of you has somehow grown fingers, a bath isn't going to do anything for this shit."

One-track minds, all of them.

[[ the store has always been open. *waves hand* open ]]

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So the plan had been to stop by Turtle and Canary for a few minutes to pick up some things, but then Liliana had noticed the name of the store across the street and, well, color her intrigued. An apothecary, perhaps? A liquor store? Somebody actually selling poisons? Who knew? But she was certainly curious.

"Hello the shop," she called, stepping inside.

"Welcome to Pick your Poison, what do you want?" Sorry, Margo'd remember about customer service voice in a sec.

A minute?

"To pick my poison, obviously," Liliana replied, not particularly fussed about the lack of customer service voice. Working in her own shop (ugh) made her a lot more forgiving of such things. "And to know, specifically, what kinds of poisons I'm picking from."

"Well, if it's actual poison you're looking for, that left the building with the original owner," Margo said dryly. "She did leave all the crazy shit in the apartment upstairs, but I'm pretty sure that's dead now."

"I have absolutely no idea what this store sells," Liliana said with a shrug. "But I saw the name and was curious enough to come and see. So if I'm not picking through actual poisons, what am I looking at?"

A beat.

"And just what is upstairs anyway?" She was quite good with dead things, Margo.

"Bath bombs, soap, nice scents, that kind of thing," Margo said, eyeing her. "The kind of things you could Combat Club your way into something that'll fuck up someone's day, or you could have a nice spa day in. Who am I to judge?"

Oh, she judged.

Which was also why she wasn't answering the upstairs questions.

Yeah, Liliana had met Eliot. Odds seemed slim Margo wasn't a judger.

"Oooh!" Liliana sounded delighted by the answer. "Why waste good pampering supplies to hurt people?" That was just wasteful, there were plenty of things already designed to hurt people that would do a much better job. And wouldn't deprive her of fancy soaps and the like. "...A bath bomb?"

Margo pointed to the twitchy packages. "I think they picked up a little ambient magic being here, but they still work just fine."

"So, I know what a bath is, and what a bomb is, but I'm still a little lost on both how and why you'd put them together," Liliana drawled, watching them twitch.

"It's really not that complicated," Margo said dryly. "They're round, and they come apart when you drop them in water. So bomb. Bath: what's inside is just pretty colors and nice scents you won't be able to get out of your hair for a week."

Liliana's expression suggested 'round' has nothing to do with her understanding of bombs, leaving Margo's explanation generally unsatisfactory, but she was willing to ignore that in favor of the items themselves. "Do you make them, then?"

"Fuck no, I just buy the good stuff and sell it here and via the website," Margo said, with a little snort. "But I'm an expert on using them, so I make sure I don't stock trash."

There was a small Lush store somewhere, staying wholly in business by fulfilling Margo's orders. "Mmm, I do enjoy ridiculously luxurious baths," she noted, because skipping out on indulgences was for other people. "And that requires quality bathing accoutrements."

Even if they were a bit twitchy when she picked them up to inhale.

"That one's lavender, rosemary and sea salt," Margo offered. "Helps you calm down when you're about to go to bed and still fixating on murder."

Liliana looked amused. "I can be interested in poisons without plans to murder anyone," she pointed out.

If she was going to murder people, she (generally) wouldn't rely on poison to do it anyway.

"Who said I was talking about you?" Margo said breezily.

She sure plotted a lot of murder herself!

Look, if people wanted less murder plotting, they should deserve murder less. Thems just facts.

"If you're not, then you should tell me who so I can get to know them better," Liliana said with a laugh.

"I've got a hammer and two axes and a heart full of dreams," Margo said, "But unfortunately the creepy no-eyebrow fucks aren't lounging around in this universe, so instead I use bath bombs."

Liliana laughed; her arsenal ran less to weapons, but she could appreciate the commentary. "Creepy, no-eyebrow fucks?"

"Fairies," Margo said irritably. "They're fucking up my kingdom as we speak."

She was a magician. She could use magic to fuck up someone's day, no problem. And yet.

Liliana wrinkled her nose. She didn't have much experience with faeries, but you practically had to wade through the little buggers on Lorwyn and there were plenty on Ravnica and they were obnoxious little bastards to say the least.

Yes, that included you, Oona. You know what you did.

"Oh! Yes! You are Eliot's queen, yes?" Liliana asked, snapping her fingers as she remembered why Margo's name sounded familiar. "And the faeries made you royalty out of mischief and spite?"

"No, the gods did," Margo said, rolling her eye. "We were the funniest choice, apparently. I'm still laughing my ass off."

She was not.

"Ugh, gods," Liliana said, wrinkling her nose. She hadn't been a fan even back when she could have (technically-ish) been counted among their number. "Are these immortal, omnipotent, and potentially intangible gods? Or are these gods that you can share your axes and dreams with?"

"Oh, Eliot and Quentin straight-up murdered Ember and Umber. Right after I got jeeted out here. Fuckers."

She had wanted to be there!

[[ guess who thought this ping went through days ago ]]

[I just assumed you hated me. ;^;]

"...We're they as twee as their names?" Liliana couldn't help but ask.

"Umber was a detail-obsessed OCD dick with perfectionism issues," Margo said, rolling his eyes, "And Ember was a fucking drunk who lived for drama. And twee shit."

"Well, now, I've met plenty of fucking drunks who lived for the drama and usually they can at least be counted upon to liven up dull parties," Liliana pointed out.

But then, she was also a gossipy, dramatic bitch, so something something like recognized like.

"I'm sorry that you missed out on your own vengeance, darling, that does sound maddening. Especially if satisfaction was all you got from it."

Instead of being released from the magic, or whatnot. Sometimes the end were important enough to skip over the pleasures of personally handling things, but when that wasn't the case...

"Not all drunks who live for drama get rape-y and world-destroy-y when they get bored," Margo returned. "I'm glad his grand shining dickitude is dead, and I wish I could get back to Fillory to spit on his grave."

No, but Liliana had met plenty of Planeswalkers who certainly fit the description. They usually had considered themselves gods, too.

Ugh.

"Cheers to that," she noted. "Eliot mentioned that you were locked out of your world." Though if he explained why, she certainly didn't remember.

"Ember's idea of funny the first time around," Margo said. "Fuck if I know about this round. I'm thinking the fairies had something to do with it."

"And, lo, we come full circle bitching about faeries again," Liliana said with a grimace. "I feel like we should be drinking."

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Pick Your Poison, Thursday

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