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Constance had to perform four hours worth of Chongg Ran meditation before she could even think about Diogenes Pendergast without irritation rising up within her, like bile in her throat. The impudence of that man -- not that he had any choice in arriving, but when he did, he purposefully disrupted Constance's existence in the most outwardly charismatic way possible. Dear Constance, he called her with that honeyed accent, you are much more than that, Constance, was what he told her. All with that damnable twinkle in his eye. She should have set the point of her stiletto against his throat and forced him to stay out of the mansion until he left! Regrettably, he would have enjoyed it.
Amanita phalloides, he said, was the cause of Leng's death. Constance remembers the laboratory in the basement of the mansion on Riverside Drive, the one designed to look precisely like the Pendergast mansion in New Orleans. She clearly remembers the scents; ammonia, salts, benzene, various other chemicals, and the coppery tang of blood. She vividly recalls the narrow stone room, pillars rising towards an arched ceiling, walls lined with countless glass bottles of miscellaneous liquids -- the next room containing various insect parts such as scorpion tails, dragonfly wings, and desiccated honeybee abdomens. Another such room in the labyrinth was entirely dedicated to mushrooms. In her mind's eye, she sees a jar labeled Amanita phalloides, written in Enoch Leng's spidery hand-writing. One day, Constance carefully examined the dried specimens -- a seemingly innocent white-capped mushroom -- in the jar, reading the associated card that listed out the side effects of ingesting it. That information has been pinned in her memory since then, like one of the butterfliy specimens in his collection. It isn't out of the realm of possibility that she poisoned Enoch Leng with the death cap mushroom. In fact, she is certain that Diogenes was telling the truth -- but then that would not be enough for her. That would not satisfy her inward anger, her quest for vengeance. Diogenes alludes that Enoch Leng eventually returned through the portal to modern day Manhattan to find ...what? Constance set up with a shot gun?
She shakes her head gently. It does not matter. This is a future version of herself that does not exist. Revenge has been exacted upon Enoch Leng, but she was not the one who completed and she has no memory of it. Mary's death still weighs heavy on her conscience. As she thinks, she sits entirely too still in one of the lounges of the mansion, a vintage tea set spread across the table in front of her.
[[For any post-visitors day needs!]]
Amanita phalloides, he said, was the cause of Leng's death. Constance remembers the laboratory in the basement of the mansion on Riverside Drive, the one designed to look precisely like the Pendergast mansion in New Orleans. She clearly remembers the scents; ammonia, salts, benzene, various other chemicals, and the coppery tang of blood. She vividly recalls the narrow stone room, pillars rising towards an arched ceiling, walls lined with countless glass bottles of miscellaneous liquids -- the next room containing various insect parts such as scorpion tails, dragonfly wings, and desiccated honeybee abdomens. Another such room in the labyrinth was entirely dedicated to mushrooms. In her mind's eye, she sees a jar labeled Amanita phalloides, written in Enoch Leng's spidery hand-writing. One day, Constance carefully examined the dried specimens -- a seemingly innocent white-capped mushroom -- in the jar, reading the associated card that listed out the side effects of ingesting it. That information has been pinned in her memory since then, like one of the butterfliy specimens in his collection. It isn't out of the realm of possibility that she poisoned Enoch Leng with the death cap mushroom. In fact, she is certain that Diogenes was telling the truth -- but then that would not be enough for her. That would not satisfy her inward anger, her quest for vengeance. Diogenes alludes that Enoch Leng eventually returned through the portal to modern day Manhattan to find ...what? Constance set up with a shot gun?
She shakes her head gently. It does not matter. This is a future version of herself that does not exist. Revenge has been exacted upon Enoch Leng, but she was not the one who completed and she has no memory of it. Mary's death still weighs heavy on her conscience. As she thinks, she sits entirely too still in one of the lounges of the mansion, a vintage tea set spread across the table in front of her.
[[For any post-visitors day needs!]]
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Date: 2025-03-06 06:16 am (UTC)She is not, however, a woman unlikely to hold her tongue if she would prefer that he leave. He weighs his choices, and he decides to step across the threshold to the lounge. Naturally, he bows to Constance, flawlessly polite, before he sits across from her. He leaves the commencement of conversation up to her, if she so chooses.
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