"Darcie this isn't right."
"HUSH! I'm working. Leave me be."
"As much as I enjoy watching you working with such clear pleasure, you're going to work yourself to death. Think of those who love and care for you… What of Nyth? What of the Wodenstaffs themselves, they need you! And what of Wulfram…? Of…"
"DON'T. DON'T YOU DARE."
Darcie snapped, her head twisting to stare at the woman seated upon the edge of her desk.
Marianne tilted her head slightly and gazed at her younger sister. Deeper forest green eyes meeting a pair of ocean blue eyes. She let out a breath of air and drew closer to her younger sister, placing her hands upon her shoulders.
"This won't solve anything. This won't make matters easier or go away, you know this."
"Shush, leave me alone, Mari… I'm doing what must be done." Darcie mumbled, shrugging her hands off as she rose from her desk. The woman collected her papers and moved out of her study.
Marianne sighed and followed after her sister, shaking her head firmly.
"Darcie, please listen to reason! I'm only trying to help." The older Vauclain pleaded as her sister stormed into her bedroom. She followed after her, watching as her sister dropped her bundle of papers onto the vanity table.
The papers caused the table itself to shake and shift. The woman's various perfumes, makeup and other toiletry objects shifted in their places.
Darcie slumped down upon the stool and buried her face into her hands. A heavy sigh escaped the woman.
Marianne, meanwhile, took up position upon the woman's bed. She glanced idly around the room before focusing upon Darcie's slumped form.
"There are other ways. There are healthier ways to be doing this. You could pace yourself, space out the dosages. Or better yet dilute it further. And take breaks… Naps, don't work yourself to exhaustion." Marianne spoke softly as she reached forth and set a hand upon her sister's back. Her hand moved in slow, soothing circles.
Darcie raised her head slowly, turning to look at her sister. She stared at her for a long moment before opening her mouth to speak before promptly closing it. Her head twisted towards her bedroom door as a knock came from it.
"Madame? Darcie?" A masculine voice spoke following the knock. The doorknob turned and Patrick, Darcie's runner, poked his head into the room.
"Oui? What is it Patrick?"
"Madame is everything alright? I heard… Well, you. I heard your voice, as if you were replying to someone. And yet…" The runner looked about the essentially empty bedroom before looking toward the sole occupant.
"Talking to someone? Oh forgive me, Patrick, I was reading an old letter to myself… Nothing to worry about. Now was there something else?"
"No Madame. Just came to remind you that… You must take your…"
"Oui I know."
Darcie waved one of her hands dismissively at the runner and he left the room. The woman slumped back down, gazing at the thin rectangular box upon her vanity table beside her bundle of papers.
Slowly she straightened herself and reached forth, opening the box and retrieving what was within: a vial of a very dark liquid. Studying the contents carefully, the woman retrieved a bottle of wine and a chalice from a drawer in her vanity.
Filling a little more than half the chalice with wine, Darcie uncorked the vial and tapped out two drops of the liquid into her chalice. Slipping the cork back into place and placing the vial into the box, she lifted the chalice to her lips.
"Don't…"
"Go haunt someone else, Marianne."
