4th of Spring, 520
Spring had hit Lhavit like a tidal wave, and now their strange winter felt as far away and intangible as last nights dream. Madeira followed the stairs leading to a small, familiar shop, pulling discreetly at the neck of her yellow silk dress to try and coax the thin mountain air underneath. On the step above her Spooks walked in her narrow shadow for his own little respite. Hanging over the door at the top of the stairs a sign creaked in the humid air: The Nine Lives, it read in clean, curling font.
"Do you think she remembers me?" the cat thing didn't look back as he spoke for the first time since leaving the house. It was hard to tell with the creature, but Madeira stared at the back of his plated head and wondered if she could detect a touch of hopefulness in his growly voice.
"You're kind of hard to forget", Madeira hummed, taking a tick to smooth back her hair and adjust the lay of the jewels on her throat and wrists before reaching for the handle of the plain wooden door. "Though I don't think you were capable of talking the last time. Try to stay out of the way, okay? We're not here to socialize."
No, today she had a special favour to ask of her friend. It was Sagallius, the mad god she met for a brief, terrifying chime at the end of fall, that had originally opened her eyes to the real part the Konti played in her life. Allister and Dev'ania, your bishops, the god had said, holding the corresponding chess piece in his bony hand, both vulnerable, but able to move in unpredictable ways.
Dev'ania had proved herself to be an invaluable partner as they hunted down the Magekiller together, and Madeira had never considered her beyond that. But the woman was also disarmingly gentle and mysteriously gifted, and there were many more creative ways to use her talents. Madeira ran her tongue over her teeth, sensing rather than feeling the blue Cordas mark slide across them. There were things she wanted, and she was sure if she played her cards right, she could convince the young Konti to help her get them.
The inside of the shop was plain, bordering on shabby, with small efforts to spruce the place up with trinkets. It really did feel like the Divanist had taken the aesthetic of her mentor, the murdered Crone, to heart. A starry tapestry dominated one wall, and the other was bisected by a low counter.
"Dev? Are you here?" Madeira called in greeting. Spooks vanished in a puff of soulmist, reappearing eagerly on the counter a moment later.