shaft | school: crow

Aww, were you looking for the S to your M?

Perhaps.

[ Anyway, before we can go down that line of conversation, something else unravels around them.

By the time you're six, it only takes you two sips to realize that your drink is poisoned. It has to be your drink, because the food is served in platters, everyone at the dining table—your father, his wives and advisors, and all their children—all eating from the same dishes. But drinks are served individually, wine and brandy for the adults, juice and water for the children. You'd requested a beverage made from black currants, realizing too late the sharp bitterness of the fruit could hide any other flavour.

And suddenly, it feels as though each and every eye is on you. Waiting for you to react, to spit out the mouthful sitting on your tongue or swallow and grimace against the fever burning up your spine. You imagine them laughing as you struggle to keep hold of your cup.

Perhaps they think you're really a fool, and that you'll tell your mother your suspicions. As though the bruises from the last time you did aren't still fresh on your back.

You let the poison sit in your mouth, taking a breath before swallowing. And then you eat a piece of bread, some meat, even the vegetables. You eat and eat and eat until someone makes a comment about it, and you have to groan about being full, a discomfort in your belly from eating too quickly.

And then you shuffle off to your room, throw it all up, help yourself to some water, and catalog the taste and effects to the best of your memory in your journal, next to all the others.

The taste lingers on Claude's tongue even after the memory fades, given the face he's making. ]

Ugh.

[ spoon is a coward. ]

...

Is this like when they say in order to get over a fear, or a trauma you can try to immerse yourself in it? That why you're into poisons now?

[ sir. ]

Not quite.

[ He rubs his head. ]

I just found that poisons were an effective way to get revenge.

[ ... ]

I definitely prefer a sniper rifle.

... other people didn't work on their poison tolerance like you, hm?

I guess not.

[ ... ]

That's a shitty thing to have to go through though. Looked like it was just an expected part of growing up for you.

It was shitty. But it's in the past.

[ He gives Crow a teasing smile. ]

You don't need to comfort me.

Hey, I'm just stating facts. It looks shitty, sounds shitty, ergo...

[ a shrug. ]

But I do have some nice, broad shoulders if you're looking to have a little secret weep about your childhood struggles.

Oh, aren't I lucky?

[ He swoons, lacing his hands and setting them on Crow's shoulder so that he can rest his cheek atop them. ]

A big, strong man to look after me...