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The sleeves of Cicero Maracova's white dress were fluttering as she considered the question given to her. Primarily, she wasn't shaken by the fact that all selected had an earlier arrival date than was originally planned. She was one to expect the unexpected, if only because the unexpected should always be expected with her. Secondarily, the eyes of the royals didn't cause her to sink down in front of them. Rather, she drew herself up to full height as if to say, 'I'm just as good as you are' although she was careful to give them the respect they deserved as monarchs. They hadn't really done anything to earn hers, but that was just the way of the world, wasn't it?
"Your Majesties, with my experience and dedication to my craft, I believe I'm uniquely qualified for this situation. But I must confess, my weapon of choice would vary from royal to royal."
Every kill Cicero enacted was personal. No, she didn't have a mark or anything like a serial killer (although the veneres did have their own symbol and seal but that was a whole other mess she didn't feel like getting into at the moment), but each kill was case specific. Her weapon was chosen with care, and when the time came, she did it her way. Cicero was nothing if not unique; generic killings were not her style.
"Willa, for example." She smiled with a glimmer of amusement. Just because she wasn't attracted to that young princess didn't mean she hadn't had plenty experience faking it. "Poison, it would have to be. For a spirit so caught up in moving, she wouldn't even see it coming. I believe they make cosmetics with toxins now, yes? One quick kiss and she'd be out. Ridding her and myself of the evidence would only take but a minute."
If she left even a shred of something behind with each murder she committed, she would've been exposed long ago. No, no — she knew what she was doing. She knew how to make things look like accidents, appear to be unfortunate mishaps. Whatever they wanted her to do, she could do it.
"Kal next. Rather delicious, I'd say. I'd love to take a bite out of him, he seems like an adventure. Not in a sexual way, though — just a figure of speech."
One thing about Cicero — she was not a seductress. True, her current occupation required tactics along that line, but she was not a seductress at heart. She didn't flirt, she didn't try to use her body to gain an advantage. In her opinion, genuine connections were required to achieve the maximum amount of pain.
"Anyways. An assassination fit for a king is only right for this scenario. My weapon of choice here would be my hands, and my throwing stars. I'd pin him to the wall with them, upside down. And then I'd place his head in a bucket and wait until he drowned. Afterwards, it would be so easy to appear as if he wasn't feeling well, perhaps drank too much, decided to get into a bath and the worst occurred."
Yes, they'd said it didn't have to be gory or nightmarish or long, but this wasn't just for them. Crimes of passion were right up her alley, and Cicero wanted to make sure they felt every bit of it. She wanted them to feel like she did. Call it true Romanticism — she felt everything. So she wanted them to feel it all too.
"Finally... Charlemagne. Sweet, mysterious Charlemagne. One of my favorite weapons — my Hermés." Now she smirked, reaching into her dress and pulling out one of her beloved scarves like a magician. Her eyes danced as she dove into her description; it was clear this situation was her preference.
"I'd get behind him." There would be neck and shoulder kissing, maybe. Depended on the situation. Besides, even if he wasn't one for physical contact, her scarf would get where her skin couldn't. Speaking of, she whirled it a bit. "Once he was sufficiently distracted, I'd get my scarf around his neck and choke him." She'd experience the sensation of his resistance, of the struggle and the tautness of her weapon. Of holding his life in her hands. The scarf fell still. "I'd stop. I'd go in front of him and look into his eyes as he thought he'd be getting an escape. Then I'd reach into his chest and rip out his heart." She wanted to see that, see the moment he believed he'd be met with mercy only to find his end. She knew she wasn't strong enough to knock a hole into his body, but surely there were instruments that could help her achieve such. Call it too much Vampire Diaries, but it was her way.
She hadn't even realized she was clutching her scarf, the material pulled taut over her knuckles.
Cicero blinked, snapping out of her trance in a flash. She ran her fingers over the material of the scarf, feeling its silken consistency glide across her skin. She flashed the king and queen a smile, one that spoke of immeasurable creativity in this subject. Obviously she'd do as they wished, but those were her ideas. Clearly there would be more questions on behalf of that, and she was suddenly very ready to move on. So with her grin intact, she drove the conversation forward.
