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[Madeira Dusk]

Fall 74th, 517

Madeira wondered if anybody had ever attempted to paint the inside of an eggshell before. If not, she imagined the Tattered Thread would be as close as one could get to seeing such a thing. The small shop was painted a smooth, creamy white on the outside, but inside Madeira was trapped between racks of clothes in every eye watering colour known to man. The walls and most of the floor were lined with everything one could want in a clothing shop, and some you didn't. The Spiritist recognized the thin baggy pants of the Inarta, some gaudy monstrosities that you'd only find on an Eypharian, and at least one bemusing jumpsuit that looked like it was made for someone with a tail.

Madeira ignored all these things. She found the occasional breaks in the explosion of colour and texture like a woman reading braille, and she would dive in only to surface with the most boring garments to be found in the entire store: perfectly adequate linen skirts that never reached above the ankle, high buttoned blouses in exciting shades of
grey and white, and, if she was feeling daring, something with sleeves shorter than the elbow.

"What do you think?"

Madeira held a cotton dress up to her front and turned to ask for an opinion. The dress was almost identical to the one she was currently wearing; a washed out green garment with a high, stuffy collar and long straight skirt.

The small black feline from whom the opinion was sought gave a long, exaggerated yawn with a sarcasm you typically didn't see in cats. Spooks was seated on a shelf just above her head, looking like a spot of ink against the worlds most garish oil painting. His large, lamp-like orange eyes rolled skyward and settled on Madeira with something close to disappointment.

Madeira huffed, shoving the dress back onto the rack.

"Sweetheart, I know you'd like me in something flowery, but please remember my position. I'm not about to tell someone their loved one is back from the dead while wearing feathers and a jaunty hat. How about this?"

From between two gauzy dancing outfits she emerged with something that wouldn't look out of place at a funeral: a long, heavy, pitch black skirt trimmed with threadbare lace.

The cat hissed ferociously at it.

"Emma, please", Madeira pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

word count: 403

[Penny Noor]

“The cat’s right you know?” said Penny miraculously appearing from behind a rack of clothing so dense that when going through it one could probably find a door to the other end of Alvadas. “Your choice of clothing is quite unbecoming of someone of your societal position, to say the least. And that is in the nicest possible way I can say that.”

To any onlooker and likely to Madeira herself it might have seemed like the girl materialised from nowhere just to give fashion advice. Perhaps deduction could conclude that she’d been hiding beneath a pile of clothing for the whole day just to jump out at someone in the most opportune moment. In fact the sequence of events went quite differently.

Penny had been at the temple of Ionu all morning just as she did at least a few times every month to pay her patron deity the respect deserved. She had put on her sunday finest, a lace trimmed, jewel green velvet dress with a collar that buttoned up right up to her chin and long sleeves. Even her short hair was pin curled and braided. A face full of makeup, lips darkened with raison coloured wax lipstick and a khol lining her lashes that somehow looked even longer than usual.

On her way back she followed where the illusions had taken her as usual, mainly since at every junction of roads only one pathway was walkable whilst the other ways were often blocked by something ridiculous and ostentatious like a blue fire or - to the horror of her eyes - a road that was lined with a thin puddle of water that span its length and breath. Not only was she terrified of even the most shallow of puddles but she wasn’t about to get her shoes wet either.

Suffice to say it was by the will of Ionu himself that the two girls were to meet again, for how could have Penny walked right past the tattered thread without peaking in. She had little money on her and knew she wouldn’t have been able to afford anything but there was always that pesky wishful thinking.

The shop was pretty empty of patrons that day. Just her and Voren who peeked up at her from his desk once or twice. And as she scanned through railing after railing, basket after basket for something that would catch her eyes, often having to go over the same heap of clothing just to make sure she didn’t miss anything, the bell of the door rang more. And of course Penny recognised the voice and the blond locks of hair she spied from behind a wall of garments.

Her first instinct was to duck behind something and wait it out til Madeira left and any uncomfortable encounter could be avoided. But eventually, after swallowing the lump in her throat and pinching the back of her hand to sate her nerves she finally emerged to say hello. Instead of a hello, however, she was almost instantly sidetracked by Madeira’s terrible taste in clothing. Oh boy, did she have her work cut out for her.

“Fancy seeing you again, miss Craven. In a million years I’d not have bet on finding you here. I don’t mean that in a bad way, no, I’d have just imagined your family to have a personal tailor or something of the sort.” she smiled before turning her back to Madeira and flicking through the rail of clothing directly opposite that housed quite the array of dresses. Anything from white satin to heavy heavy dyed cotton detailed with fine threads - and some less fine.

“What I mean to say is… Hello again.”she corrected herself, muttering a little, realising her little monologues could have come across quite rude and she had no intention or purpose of doing so. It was then that she noticed the inky cat, almost missing among all the colourful distractions and her face lit up.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira, like most lifelong Avalads, was numb to shock and jaded to surprise. So the sudden inexplicable appearance of an acquaintance she met only once in a dire situation nearly a season ago, whose first words of greeting were to criticize her sense of style, merely got a raised eyebrow and a pause of bewilderment.

The last time she saw this woman she was sweaty and pale and suffering from a traumatic possession. But now she looked, well, pretty. Her cognac eyes were ringed with black powder to make them look larger, her lips were shining and red around her constantly moving mouth, and her hair was sleek and braided. Even the simple grey dress from before was replaced with something elegant. The velvet confection seemed to collect both shadow and light and pool it around her womanly form in strategic places.

To be fair, Madeira realized neither of them were at their best that night, and she too was looking better since. For one thing, he cane was absent. The miraculous recovery of her leg and a solid week of fever-less, dreamless sleeps had done wonders for her. The yellow tinge to her skin had vanished, she was walking unsupported and she was gaining weight again. Though she was still uncomfortably aware of how poorly groomed she must look next to the beauty beside her.

The Spiritist hadn't realized she was tuning Penny out until the woman's voice softened with embarrassment and she muttered her hello.

"Ah, yes, hello." Madeira said a second too late, still holding the ugly skirt.

Luckily further interaction was stalled, as Penny caught sight of the cat and her eyes lit up with glee. Madeira remembered looking through the woman's sketchbook and seeing many drawings of the same fluffy cat. It seemed Penny had a soft spot.

"That's Spooks", she said, reaching up to scooped the feline off the shelf. "And Emma", she amended. "Come say hello, sweetheart. Don't be rude."

A very familiar pearlescent mist lifted off the cat. The ghost of a little girl coalesced out of the formless haze and did it's very best to hide behind Madeira's skirt. The bashful girl had curly hair and big brown eyes, and could be considered pretty if it weren't for the open sores around her mouth, eyes, and the spaces between her fingers. She was smiling shyly, looking up at Penny but unable to hold her gaze for more than a tick at a time.

The possessed cat came back to itself in a daze. It's eyes were slightly crossed and unfocused, and it seemed to lack the aloof grace of it's kind. It was perfectly fine being manhandled as Madeira settled it comfortably in her arms.

"It's... It's good to see you again." she smiled. "You look really well, Penny." She took half a step to the side in the cluttered store, exposing the ghost behind her. "This is Emma. And she's ok- she’s mine", she said quickly, aware that Penny’s last interaction with ghosts did not leave a good impression. Emma waved, blushing under the attention.

The situation of their last meeting seemed to hover between the two women like a pocket of stale air. Madeira moved on quickly with a delicate clearing of her throat.

"You're not the only one who seems to have a problem with the way I dress. Emma would have me wear neon and sequins given half a chance.” She turned back to the rack and put the ugly skirt back. Spooks slithered out of the crook of her arm and climbed to her shoulder as she flipped through dress after dress. He settled, swaying slightly on her thin shoulders, and stared unblinkingly at Penny.

"But come on, this is nice, isn’t it?" she said a little desperately, holding up an ugly peasant dress with mouldy looking ruffles around the prudish skirt.

[Penny Noor]

Penny was just about to reach out and pet the creature that Madeira scooped off the shelf when a familiar see through mist lifted of him. She should have expected this. After all the Cravens were famous for their dealings with ghosts. She turned pale even beneath her powdered visage but when she saw the form of a little girl taking shape her heart sated and her pulse lessened a little. And seeing how adorably the little one hid behind Madeira’s skirts made her only think that perhaps the ghost was as scared of her as she was of it.

Penny did her best to quickly collect herself and camouflage any surprise with a sweet smile and her eyes rested on the child. She would have been cute if not for the scabs on her skin. But to Penn she was still cute who saw beneath all that a plump child, like a loaf of sweet bread with curls and cheeks and tiny hands. All those things that made children adorable. For a moment Penny wondered how she died. Perhaps an illness, was all she could guess from the crusty, textured markings around her lips and fingers that were visible though the ghostly apparition.

“Hello, Emma. A pleasure to meet you little one.” smiled Penny, raising her hands and waving just her long fingers elegantly as not to scare the girl with a more frantic wave. Then her attention came back to Madeira. “ It’s good to see you too. And likewise. I do hope health had you well since last we met.”

And the case really seemed to be such. Penny saw no trace of that frail, limping woman from days past. The cane was gone and even looking around the shop Penny had spotted no sight of it. Her skin was healthier, pinker and softer to the eyes. Pity for yellow skin was far more easy to paint. She even put on a little weight. Although perhaps nothing would fix her attitude, Penny truly was glad to see her better.

"This is Emma. And she's ok- she’s mine"

Penny gasped at the words, somewhat misconstruing them perhaps. Her palms covered her mouth as a wave of pity came over her. “She’s your daughter?” she whispered, feeling so very sorry of anyone who ever had the awful luck of losing a child.

"You're not the only one who seems to have a problem with the way I dress. Emma would have me wear neon and sequins given half a chance.” complained Madeira as Penny watched her flip through dress after dress with bemusement.” But come on, this is nice, isn’t it?"

The girl crouched a little, inspecting the hem of the dress first, then the sewing in the waistline that sewn for a woman much larger than Madeira was and lastly her eyes settled on the sleeves; more importantly the mould around the cheap lace that barely withstood it’s own weight. “How do they get away with selling this garbage here?” she whispered as quietly as she could so that she shop clerk couldn't hear. She had no intention of upsetting him but in her eyes this dress what the worst thing she’d seen in forever. “The art is in the Details Madeira” she then said reluctantly squeezing a part of the lace between her fingers to direct the spiritist’s attention to it. “Do you really wish to be walking around Alvadas looking like milk that’s been left out for a fortnight?”

Giving Emma a quick wink Penny turned to the rack of dresses behind her and flipped through them so quickly that one would think she’d done this before. “Nope, nope…. Hmmm… nope.” she muttered beneath her breath pushing dress after fredd to the side. Her fingers sould rub the material of each garment. She’d judge them by quality, by comfort, by shape and of course by colour until alas she came to what she thought wasn’t quite perfect for madeira but it was a hell of a step up.

“What do you think?” Penny pulled out the garment and straightened it with her fingers, presenting it to both Madeira and Emma and indeed SPooks for his opinion mattered too.

It was a pain black dress with long sleeves that ended in frilly, buttoned up cuffs with three amber buttons. The breast panel was split in two and detailed with lacing that wouldn’t quite do up. She’d have to find a blouse to go with it. At first glance the garment was simple, elegant and befitting a woman of high class but at a closer look the bottom of the dress and the cuffs and the brass loops through which the lacing fed though were decorated with the most delicate embroidery of windings flowers and leaves, all in black thread.

[Madeira Dusk]

"What?" Madeira blinked as Penny gasped in shock, and through her soft and tragic muttering she heard 'daughter' escape her lips. "Oh! Oh, no, nothing like that" she retracted quickly, blood flooding her pale cheeks. "No, she’s my-" she's her what? Her servant, her surrogate sister, her responsibility? "She's just mine." she finished lamely. The little ghost belonged to her in a way nothing else did. Her, Allister and even Jomi were stitched together with necessity and, if you looked hard, maybe a little like a family.

Penny held the ugly dress up for inspection with a look halfway between disgust and exasperation. She seemed just as frustrated with Madeira as Emma was. She bashed her choice thoroughly, and by the end Madeira had to agree- it was awful. Her fashion sense began and ended at a desire to be seen as sophisticated, put together and inoffensive. She had never thought to look at the details.

Without warning Spooks leapt from her shoulder to Penny's, where he settled with his tail curled around him. He did not look back at his master, his eyes darted as he watched the mesmerizing speed of her hands. Even Emma was edging around her skirt, cautious but obviously curious. It seemed Penny's charisma had already charmed them.

But before she could feel indignant, Penny turned back to her with a long dark dress in her hands.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Penny seemed unsure about her decision, but Madeira was impressed. She recoiled a little at the open bodice (the less the world saw of her underwhelming breasts the better) but she was immediately taken with the rich colour. She held out the skirt, running it between her fingers, and marvelled at the subtle embroidery. The leaves and and flowers reminded her of Penny, somehow. Distantly she remembered the woman holding a leaf up to the moonlight, explaining the details of art and nature that Madeira always missed. Maybe it was best that Penny was here after all.

“It's... actually really lovely", she said with complete sincerity. "You are much better at this than I am. How about," Madeira perked up as a sudden idea hit her. "If you can help me get an everyday dress and a formal dress, because gods know I need the help, I can get something for you, too? I'd like to pay for your expertise." she waved a hand around the shop, which was crammed with not just pants and dresses but fur shawls and feather coats and fancy hats; everything that one could conceivably dream of.

She turned to Emma, who was crouched on the ground trying to pick up a flower patterned scarf off the floor.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Madeira asked, taking the dress from Penny and holding it out for inspection. Emma looked up and shrugged noncommittally. It seemed to bore her. The Spiritist rolled her eyes and turned to the racks again, folding the dress over her arm for later consideration. "Well I think it's beautiful."

She started flipping through more dresses, though at a much slower pace than Penny had. She did her best to inhabit Penny's artistic mind and look for small details. The difference between brass and wooden buttons, the quality of the seams... She still had no idea what was fashionable, but she was trying her very best not to look like a fool in front of someone so stylish.

“Have you been drawing?” she asked casually as she considered a wine red blouse. “Still entranced with the Maze?” Madeira did not share the woman’s love of that twisted monstrosity, but with their last meeting she was starting to understand it a bit.

[Penny Noor]

“Payment” Penny echoed, giggling, not entirely dissatisfied with the idea. “You are truly formal aren’t you Madeira? Maybe sometimes one would just like to do a nice thing for you, you know? Like a friend…”

She trailed off, musing to herself a million thoughts at once. The first was to find the perfect blouse and perhaps a love;ly petticoat, stiff as a board to match the black dress. Perhaps something to satisfy the jovial tastes of the little girl ghost instead? She wondered just how far out of Madeira’s own comfort zone was far enough.

As her hands trailed through yet more fabric, the tips of her fingers picking out that perfect balance between softness and smoothness with every touch, she found herself wondering what Madeira must have been like as a child. To her the woman was a strange one. Not a bad strange, not at all; interesting. Someone she wanted to know by the pure virtue the differences between them.

“Have you been drawing?” asked Madeira, making quite the attempt at small talk. Penny appreciated it. “Still entranced with the Maze?”

“I always draw. Day in, day out, sometimes even at night. Its busy work you know?” she replied, pulling out a green blouse from the rack that almost matched the colour of her own dress perfectly. It was made of that same rich velvet. And though it was truly a fantastic piece, it was by far the least practical piece of underclothing she’d ever seen, thick and fuzzy. It would not only cause excessive sweating, something a ladies should never do, but also crease and poke out where the seams of the black dress would cover it. Shaking her head Penny put it back and resumed her search, pressing her cheek against the cat on her shoulders, listening to his heart beat in one ear, Madeira in the other.

“If I stop drawing my hands forget how to work. It takes days, sometimes even weeks to get back into it and create anything even remotely worth looking at. It’s like exercise. If you go out for a morning job, every day you’re able to do that few steps more, but miss a day and you’ll be risking a stitch on the next lap. Not that I’d know... Well sometimes. I used to as a child. Nowadays not so much...”

A momentary ‘AHA’ escaped her lips as she pulled out a great big ball of poppy red frills from deep in a stack of garments, before the sudden excitement escaped her face just as quickly as it appeared. She noticed a great big stain of some origin beneath one of the folds of the petticoat. Disgusted she immediately released it and kicked it under the rack as if it was a plague rat not a piece of clothing. “Nevermind…” she shivered.

“How about you?” she continued, summoning once more her usual friendly tone, shoving the petticoat out of sight, out of mind and out of her memory. “ It has occurred to me that apart from talking to spirits I know very little else about you. What is it that you do on the dail

[Allister]

It was a strange feeling to wake up warm and full. The hyena rose up on all fours, arched his back and then rocked back so that his rump rose and his shoulders and head lowered to the floor. The pressure applied to his spine revealed itself with a bristled mane and back fur; a relief he verbalized in a wide-mouthed yawn that revealed his very strange, metal teeth. The outline of human teeth looked more than foreign in canine mouth but such were the cards the hyena had been dealt. The yelpish yawn which rose from deep inside his chest was almost like he was expelling any remnants of sleep from his body.

Allister shook out his body from head to stubby tail- an act he relished simply for the sound his fur and skin made mid-vibration. His mouth clamped shut then opened again in a wily grin that let the long tongue flap haphazardly off to one side. Padded feet walked about in a circle while the childlike brain rolled through a list of things he should or should not remember. The problem really existed between the space of what was real and what was dream. Ever since he and his human had gotten sick, his already frail psyche was bombarded by vivid dreams and nightmares which gave the simpleton issues in regards to separating reality from imagination.

At some point, his scent finder picked up the smell of something delicious- something smoky and dripping with flavors that the former slave had never tasted. The unrecognizable smells were like a finger of some tantalizing spirit which beckoned the kelvic onward. Allister trotted over to his big leather coat and pants that had been folded and placed in a stack on the edge of Madeira’s bed. The dog took his belongings in his mouth and headed out of the small cottage into the cobbled streets of Alvadas. The long-haired hyena made his way with no other guide than his nose and rumbling stomach which was now dancing in anticipation of the delicious morsels which waited somewhere nearby.

In what was becoming a typical occurrence, Allister stopped to scratch his neck. He parked his bottom on the stones and twisted so that his hind leg’s blunt claws could swing up and drag against the dry skin along his shoulder blades. The motion was rapid and repetitive but extremely satisfying... so much so that Allister’s mouth opened instinctually and his cloths spilled out on to the ground. The dog finished his self-fulfilling action then rose back to all fours. The entertainer of no renown was about to resume his task when the sight responsible for the lovely smells came into view. A large roasted hunk of meat was displayed in a window on the second story of the building across the street; it was steaming and oozing with some kind of glaze that just begged to be licked. The scavenger froze for a moment as his mind went to work on how he might achieve such a thing. Allister, like all great minds, had a tell when he’d reached a conclusion that solved a problem. He barked and ran in a circle as if chasing his tail.

After two complete rotations, the hyena sat on his haunches and focused his mental acuity on dislodging part of his body…his tongue! In truth, he’d never experimented with this piece before as he’d only ever projected his hands or arms but he felt the same process must surely apply to any body part. His first attempt didn’t seem to work but then again, it felt rushed. Allister sat down in the street on his belly and relaxed his legs underneath him in a position that resembled some of the more regal beasts often depicted in statues and carvings. With this new posture, the novice mage became more aware of his body’s presence including his tongue. Able to ‘see’ the mouth muscle, he slowly worked his mind in between the singular feature and the rest of his body until the tongue in his mouth went numb and fell lifelessly from his jaw. The projected part floated in front of him for a moment then began to drift towards the roasted dish in the window over yonder.

Allister guided his invisible licker close to the house and then raised it like a flag up outer wall until he reached the proverbial promised land. A moment’s hesitation was given as the hyena pondered the providence of his present situation. Once a slave then shipwrecked, Allister had found his freedom refreshing but isolated for fear of the world he didn’t know or understand (still didn’t understand). However, the path had brought Madeira to his door and with her stern prowess, she had bonded to him or rather, she allowed him to bond to her. Like the most grateful parasite, the kelvic had instantly taken to the idea that he belonged to her. The spiritist’s strength was not born of physical things but of a confidence in her abilities; in herself. This strength was contagious and Allister was beginning to find his way in a career as well as discovering the protective instinct of his animal self when it came to the comely blonde. Madeira awakened things inside the kelvic he would never understand but they were all pleasant and so he questioned nothing nor did he take it for granted. As an example, Allister attributed the sampling of such a succulent snack like the one in the window to be a direct result of Madeira’s intervention in his life.

[Allister]

The phantom tongue started at the edge of the pan and pressed into the roasted surface. Then, as directed, it was pulled up along the side which gathered a build-up of the tantalizing sauce. Once a solid glob was accumulated, Allister guided his stolen nibble back down to eye level and across the stones so that he could return his tongue to its rightful place. Drooling on himself in anticipation, the hyena shivered as the smell drifted closer and closer. His projected piece flew into the open mouth and once it was attached, the sudden explosion of flavors on the tip of his long, pink tongue caught him by surprise. He snapped the muscle behind his teeth and closed his jaw while his saliva mixed with the marinade and sent swirling tastes of amazing, wonderful and joyous into a race around his gums and eventually down his throat. Were he in human form, he might have cried. Never had the kelvic ever experienced such a thing. While his love and admiration for Madeira would never be surpassed, Allister believed he had a new obsession; food.

In his euphoria, the hyena missed an elderly woman who had walked down the street. She paused near the pile of clothes and scooped them from the cobblestones then deposited the pants and coat into her bag without missing a step. At first, Allister just watched it happen. A lifetime of being used, abused and taken advantage of bred a sort of numbness to watching your only clothes get snatched off of the street. Black eyes followed the woman when it dawned on the kelvic that it might agitate his bondmate if he let himself be victimized in such a way. The canine hopped up to his clawed feet and took off after the woman. Running in this form was so easy and fluid. The alternating poses of extend and contract were so natural that it simply felt like a breeze that forced a tall tree to sway. Back and forth, he pumped his legs and felt the sting of exertion in his muscles as they drove his body forward. Within a few ticks he had caught up to the old thief and he announced his presence with a bark.

One did not grow old in Mizahar without some skills and a pension for violence. This woman had seen much in her years and although the black and white beast was ghastly in his appearance, he was smaller than she was and not something she was willing to fear. The heavy bag which held Allister’s coat was swung with deadly accuracy and at a speed which did not allow the hyena to react in time. The weight of the object caught Allister square on his left side while in mid stride and took him clean from his feet. The dog veered off course and crashed into a sandcastle which resembled the Gaping Maw. The woman harumphed, straightened her dress and entered a store not ten feet from her failed attacker’s resting place.

Defeated and flabbergasted, the kelvic could figure it out with his processing power (or lack thereof). He slowly got to his feet and went about shaking his form free of sand. The likeness of the Maw reformed and mocked him for his lack of courage and skill.

“I’ve not seen a toss like that since Ivak was thrown into a cage under the mountain!” The sand structure rose up to its height of a small shack and laughed in a most unkind way. Allister’s ears flattened in an unamused sort of posture. “Whopped by an old lady! You must be a great warrior!” The laughter continued. Certain that this was some kind of illusion and not an actual piece of property, Allister felt his resolve harden. It was like he could see Madeira’s stunning visage glaring at him, willing him into action. Oddly enough, he could feel her presence and it gave him courage. The dog walked over casually and stood next to the faux Maw’s corner then lifted his leg and relieved himself into the sand. He shook slightly when he was done then started walking casually across the street. His jaw grinned like a jackal when the face shouted after him in protest. “Rude!! That’s unsanitary, you mutt! Come back here!”

At the threshold of the store, Allister paused and shifted. In a flash of light, the hyena was replaced by the gangly form of a man with ashy skin, ugly tattoos and black and ash striped hair. The metal grin saw himself in the glass’s reflection and it gave him something to think about while he ignored the fact that he was naked. He strode through the door and headed towards the old lady was standing at the counter and holding his jacket. “Hey lady! That’s my coat!” He headed towards her but stopped when something caught his eye. A deep magenta romper with a low cut neck and a matching leather belt that was as wide as a dinner plate for the middle. It was plain but the color reminded him of Madeira when she got angry and it was perfect for her small frame and demure allure. “Madeira would love this…” he said to himself. Suddenly, he remembered his mission and grabbed the garment from the rack then headed towards the counter.

“That’s not really your size, sir… and since you naked, would you like to buy some clothes?” The clerk said from behind the counter.

“No! I want my pants and jacket back! She” he jabbed a finger at the woman, “Stole them from me!”

[Madeira Dusk]

"Like a friend..." Madeira tested the word like she was considering the taste, then smiled shyly into the rack of dresses. "I would like that."

Though she was determined that Penny leave with something for herself, she allowed herself to soften the gesture from 'payment' to 'gift'. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to give gifts. She found she liked the feeling.

Penny was still drawing, she explained. Apparently she never stopped. Madeira couldn't quite relate to the feeling, having never drawn a picture nor exercised in her life, but she nodded appreciatively. She could imagine how difficult it would be to depend on your imagination for your livelihood.

Penny suddenly turned the conversation to her: "It has occurred to me that apart from talking to spirits I know very little else about you. What is it that you do daily?"

"I... Well, I talk to spirits daily." she admitted. Spiritism was the maypole she danced around. Her job, her family, everything revolved around death in her life. But even as she said it, she realized that wasn't quite true anymore. The last year had changed her life drastically with the people she had met and things she had done. She was more than just a Spiritist now. Though she would never admit her darkly regarded interests. Besides, it was the people she had met that wrought the most change out of her.

As she considered how best to answer, a jingle of bells above the door announced the arrival of a little old woman who tottered to the counter laden with bags.

"I have a few friends. Perhaps I should introduce you to Ambrosia Alar, who works at the Stallions Rear. You two would be fast friends.” They both had that overwhelming charisma that swept people into their path. Though if their charm were to ever interact they might just generate enough pull to bring every man and woman in Alvadas to their
presence.

"And I have a bondmate I love to spend time with", she said continued. "Allister. we've only been bonded for a season, but he's everything to-"

"Hey lady! Thats my coat!"

Both Emma and Spooks looked up at that familiar voice. The cat kept from Penny's shoulder to the shelf behind her, then proceeded to climb out of reach as fast as possible. Emma got to her feet and pranced through the racks of clothing, a jubilant cry of "Ally!" ringing behind her. Madeira pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, knowing trouble had found her beloved Kelvic.

"Would you like to meet him?" she asked Penny over her shoulder, already fighting her way out of the mess of racks and baskets.

Indeed, trouble had found the Kelvic. He was quite naked in front of the counter, standing over a woman who was holding his scaly jacket. Madeira breezed over, squeezed herself between Allister and the old lady, and held her skirt out to cover as much of her bondmate's modesty as possible.

"These were lying abandoned in the street and therefore free for the taking" the old woman was saying, her face full of contempt for the crazy man, the stuffy blonde, the pretty brunette, and the twittering ghost who had taken up a war chant of "Ally! Ally!" as she pranced around them.

"Oh, by all means." Madeira nodded gravely. "Those who don't take good care of there things are destined to lose them." she gave the Kelvic behind her a significant look over her shoulder. "But I must insist you not sell them. See, this man here as a terrible skin condition. It would be immoral to sell infected clothing to others without their knowledge."

The old woman looked up as Allister and the tight, brittle look of his skin not quite healed from the plague, decorated with the harsh lines of black tattoos. Turning up her nose in disgust, she looked back at Madeira, perhaps to ask why she couldn't see it. But as soon as Madeira caught her eye, she worked the dijed from her body and let it pool in her gaze. From between her lashes she coaxed and added to the woman's already brewing disgust. The old woman suddenly dropped the coat like it had just bitten her.

"The pants..." Madeira gently reminded her, but the woman was already pulling them out of the bag as fast as she could manage while touching as little as possible. She dropped them on the floor with a phlegmy sound of revulsion.

"Have a good day, now!" Madeira waved cheerfully as the old woman fled the store on bandy legs. Then scooping the clothes from the floor, the blonde pushed them into Allister's chest.

"See what happens when you run around naked? Come on, put them back on. There's a lady present." She helped him back into his coat. “Mind you, if you had more than one outfit we wouldn't panic about losing it. Let's find you some clothes today too."

Only once he was dressed did she turn Allister's and Penny's attention to each other.

"Penny, this is Allister. He's not sick, I was lying. And he's not as scary as he looks."

"Allister, this is Penny. She's an artist, and she's helping me shop."

"Would you be quiet, Emma."

Onto the counter she piled the embroidered black dress she had been holding, the romper Allister had been staring at, a grey pleated skirt a basket on the floor and a loose mens red linen shirt she pulled at random from a rack.

"Can we hold these here for now? We are going to be making such a big purchase today!" she smiled, trying to appease the scandalized Voren."

[Penny Noor]

The bells at the door did little to disrupt the two womens’ conversations. It simply wasn’t loud enough. Soon came a voice that broke the sound seal that kept Maderia and Penny in a world of their own chatter and caused commotion in the shop that, till now, had been eerily still. Penny dropped the latest garment she clutched in her long fingers a her eyes trailed after Madeira, hoping to quickly locate the source of the yelling.

The name spoken by the blonde woman was foreign to Penny and the insistence of meeting the name’s holder had not connected the dots in the illustrator’s mind for she just stood there with an expression of confusion etched into her face. And witch that expression she watched the scene unfold, not once moving from her position. The strange woman who babbled something about found clothes. The stranger even, gangly man…. Oh no. Not only was the the portrait of oddness but he was naked! Penny felt embarrassed for him but only for a minute for the next news to reach her eyes, as she watched, turned Penny’s face white in horror. An explanation to the naked man’s oddness was a skin disease. In one breath she both felt pity for him and disgust that cause her to lean away from the situation and cover her lips with her hand.

It took a belated moment for penny to accept Maderia’s words as a mistruth for the blonde said them with such conviction that Penny could have taken them as gospel even if they were said about her own self. Still with that realisation came the questions she dared not speak out loud. The first of the questions being; so why then does he look so odd? The other, seemingly more important, why is he naked?

“Hello…” she coughed up in desperation to not come across as rude, even though her eyes wouldn’t peel off Alister. She could muster little else. The shop owner was the last thing on her mind at this point although one thing was for certain. Due to this awkward predicament she would have to find other means of sourcing her fashion needs.