Solo "Curiosity Killed The Cat"

[Paaie]

1 Summer 518
1 bell after Dawn's Rest

　　　　 It had been getting colder, Paaie shivered as her feet touched the chilly floorboards of her apartment. As she tugged on her wool leggings and linen blouse, the kelvic decided that she desperately needed warmer clothes if the weather was going to keep dipping. While she tugged open her window to let a little air into her room, the kelvic peered out at the mountains. They were like ancient sentinels, their peaks white with snow as they rose up majestically around the skyglass city. The kelvic wondered if she would ever get used to the sight.

　　　　　　　　Paaie wove around the parchments of half-attempted sketches laying across the floor to her couch, where she had tossed her coat the day before. She shrugged into it and slipped her feet into her sandals sitting by the door, before she left the apartment for the day. Without any real purpose in mind the feline wandered through Zurya Plaza. She was people watching, mostly, as she meandered amid the market stalls and the fresh mountain air swept into her lungs and sent appreciative shivers through her bones, right down to her toes.

　　　　　　　　　　　　As the feline passed by a few stalls selling the fruits that were just coming into season, and others selling skyglass trinkets, her gaze was caught by a flower merchant, who was singing. The lady's voice made the kelvic smile, as it was pleasant and sweet, though it was her attire that stole the kelvic's admiration. The merchant had shirked the lighter, sheer fabrics that had become Lhavit's fashion trend these last few moons and had donned not one but four beautiful, vibrant scarves.

　　　　　　　A blue one was bundled about her shoulders, a deep purple under it, indigo left to swing by her hip and a soft mauve hue was peeking out from under it all. Set against her plain work dress, the colours in the scarves reminded Paaie of the mountain peaks at sunrise. The way Syna and Leth's gentle lights mingled and all the colours of Kalea's wilderness seemed to melt together.

　　　　It seemed Paaie was not the only admirier, for the florist's stall-neighbor remarked loudly, "Where did you buy your scarves—or did you make them yourself?—they are lovely!"
"Oh!" The florist's fair face was a picture of surprise as she rose from where she was crouched from putting together flowers into a stained pot. The lady tucked her long, fair wavy hair behind her ear. "I got them from a weaver in the Azure Market. You should take a look at his wares, he has some lovely pieces this season."

　　　　Eavesdropping was the best way to learn new things, Paaie was discovering. It was becoming a bad habit as she explored the city. By time the florist had noticed somebody standing listening, the kelvic—who fancied herself something warm and colourful to wear—had already sauntered off into the hustle and bustle of the plaza. The florist looked about for a tick, before shaking her head at herself as she returned to work.

　　　　　　Paaie stepped up into the narrow street where the Azure Market lay, having to turn sideways to avoid foot traffic as others made their way back down the steep street to the plaza again. It was times like this the kelvic cussed clothes as a nuisance. One swish of lights and she could don her furry, lithe form and weave around the market patrons like a fish in the water. She didn't think the shopkeepers would appreciate a naked girl showing up amid their wares when it came time to change again, though, so in human guise and fully dressed she remained.

　　　　　　　　Fortunately, the street widened slightly as it climbed up the mountainside and the painted blue shop fronts the market was known for popped up every half-dozen feet or so. Along the walls of the buildings a multitude of crafts were put outside the shopfronts to attract the eye. Wool throws and blankets woven and dyed in bright colours were hung along one shop, while impressively carved bows and staffs were stacked against another. When Paaie caught sight of a line of scarves hung just beside the doorway of a weaver's shop, she grinned. This was what she was looking for. The kelvic had to swerve from her path, though, as she heard a small cart being trundled noisily down the steep street. When she turned to look, two elegant ladies were meandering leisurely in front of an an older man with a gruff beard and thinning grey hair pushing the rickety cart.

"Do you know, I heard Rostam was having some trouble with the ghost problem at Zintia Rest." Said the lady with magnificent wheat hued ringlets pinned up into a striking knot complimenting her thin face and hooked nose.
"Really?" Piped the shorter, plumper lady, the emerald choker necklace about her neck matching her round, heavily lined hazel eyes.
"Apparently the ghost is quite stubborn, and mischievous. Says all kinds of rude things to people while they're having their baths! Just won't move on, Rostam can't work out why and the thing won't be bargained with. I expect he will have to get a bit violent."
Paaie watched the women pass with wide, curious eyes. A ghost?! Why was it being rude? Who was Rostam and why was he fighting with ghosts?
"Awful."
"Excuse me, ladies!" A gruff voice broke into the women's chatter as the old man lost his patience. Startled, the women positively leapt to the side to wait along the wall with Paaie, making their apologies as he trundled on by.
"Thank'ee, love." The man nodded to the kelvic, while frowning at the women. Paaie looked at them, they looked at her. The kelvic could see the embarrassment in their flushed cheeks.
"Who's Rostam?" She asked, unabashed.
The women seemed not to mind the question though, probably since it distracted from the awkwardness of having made themselves a nuisance to the old merchant in front of the kelvic.
"Oh he's our renowned Spiritist here in Lhavit." The fair haired lady beamed, noticing tactfully Paaie's foreign accent. "He lives on Sartu."

　　　　　　　　With little more than that to go on Paaie watched the ladies go with a frown, perplexed. The mountaineering guide she had traveled with to Lhavit had told her ghosts haunted old ruins and caves, or dark, dank forests. A bathhouse didn't seem a likely place for a ghost to hang out. Paaie felt misinformed, and dissatisfied. As she pressed on into the market her thoughts were distracted by the ghost rumours so that she half-forgot why she was there, until she spotted the rack of beautiful okomo wool scarves again.

　　　　　　　　　　　　Excitedly, the kelvic perused the garments and purchased a scarf in teal with a faded pattern and a scarf in peach. Right away she bundled these over her shoulders and, as she exchanged kina with the shopkeeper, she asked for directions to Rostam's. "Den of the Lost?" The shopkeeper sounded surprised as he lifted a brow. Paaie explained she wanted to see a ghost and the shopkeeper frowned. "I doubt Rostam would appreciate it..." He grumbled.

　　　Though on seeing the kelvic's determined look, he gave her directions anyway.
　　　　

[Paaie]

1 bell later

　　　　　　　　 Paaie was peering at the strange, tribal symbol painted on the old, worn warily. Apart from this odd marking, the apartment looked unremarkable. The kelvic glanced this way and that down and up the street winding up the mountainside wondering if she had taken a wrong turn. Taking a deep breath that lifted her shoulders, the kelvic rapped on the wood with a good solid knock.

　　　　Nothing but silence greeted her.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The feline frowned impatiently. He better not be out after she had walked all this way. Feeling resolved, the kelvic knocked again, louder this time. To her alarm the door opened lightly ajar with a click and a creak. The feline felt a tremble shudder through her, though she chalked it up to the cool unseasonable mists that were lingering in the mountain city. Strangely bitter scents drifted through the doorway into the moist mountain air. Paaie sniffed tentatively, her feet shuffling forward as her nose led her in to the spiritist's lair.

　　　　As she slunk in passed the door, the kelvic's pupils dilated to take in the scant light thrown across the dim room by a few candles flickering here and there. As she stepped into the room, the feline saw why it was called a den—it was messier than her room and that was saying something. All manner of herbs were drying from the rafters and on racks made of spruce lining the walls. Shelves bowed from age displayed an impressive collection of jars with odd substances congealing within. Paaie moved in closer, and had to pick her way around a few books, and odd trinkets, which, even leaning down to inspect them closely, their purpose eluded her.

　　　　As the kelvic stepped backwards from looking closely at one such trinket she found herself caught up in a chain of beads dangling from the beams. The feline exclaimed and tried to get out of the thing only to get herself caught up in even more dangling beads. Paaie didn't like it! Not at all! Feeling trapped, the feline panicked and in a warm glow of sudden light, she shifted. A string of beads that was caught around her left arm snapped as the shift broke her free. The beads scattered across the wooden floorboards loudly.

　　　　　　　　　　　　Shyke.

　　　　　The serval cat slipped out from under her clothes, which were now heaped where she had stood in them since they were too big to fit her now, and she dashed under a table to hide. Heart stammering. After a few anxious ticks of watching and listening, there was only the heavy stillness and silence to reprimand her. Cussing softly at herself the kelvic slunk out from under the table and looked about at the mess she had made. Actually, it wasn't noticeable amid the choas that already ensued here. So the kelvic shrugged it off and darted up onto a table.

　　　　As she sat in the only available surface, Paaie lifted her paws and grimaced as she saw the thick layer of dust. It was so thick she had actually left paw prints in it. Gods, didn't this fellow own a duster? The kelvic put her paw down and frowned. Maybe she should just leave and not let on she had ever had this terrible idea in the first place. Paaie was just about to jump down off the table when her nose caught the tangy scent of blood suddenly drift in through the thick incense.

　　　　　　　　At her vantage point, the kelvic spied an alter towards the back of the room. Curiosity piqued, the feline slunk down off the table and padded gently across the room. Leaning up the altar side to stand on her long, slender hind legs, the kelvic serval was just tall enough to peer over the edge of the strange altar if she tipped her head back enough. Her large ears swivelled this way and that as she sniffed at the odd assortment of bones and feathers gathered there.

　　　　There was an unusual smell intermingling with the smell of the blood—it was familiar yet Paaie just couldn't put her paw on what it was that she was scenting. The cat stretched her long body to reach a paw up onto the altar where she pawed at the trinkets a bit when suddenly the front door slammed shut with a resounding THUD. Startled, the cat nearly jumped out of her skin, and dashed in behind the altar where she crouched, ears perked, straining to listen. It took a good five chimes, heart going ten to the dozen, before the kelvic realised that no one had entered the lair. When she peeked around the altar, there was no one. It must have been the wind, she reasoned and relaxed.
　　　　Slightly.
　　　　　　　Her nerves were still frayed.

　　　A half a bell slid by, though, in which the kelvic wandered from this corner to that and eventually the feline began to get bored. Was the spiritist ever going to show up? Paaie yawned. That felt good. Then she stretched out her long, lithe body. That felt better. Fed up of sitting waiting, the kelvic's gaze caught on the beads she had broken and sighed. Suppose I can't sit here doing nothing all day. She sauntered over to her clothes and made the switch from fur to her dusky skin and frizzy black hair, before slipping into her garments again. Opposable thumbs were useful sometimes.

　　　　　　　　Paaie started to gather up the loose beads, using the hem of her linen blouse as a makeshift pouch to store them in. When she was finished she looked around for a container. Finding a cracked china bowl, the kelvic tipped them in and smiled as they rattled melodically as if they were happy to have found a new home. The kelvic looked for a clear space to put the bowl down and found herself at a loss. Sighing in frustration, the feline balanced the bowl between her hip and her elbow precariously while she moved a stack of papers from one chair to the clear space on the table.

　　　　As they plopped onto the surface, dust erupted in a cloud and sent her into a coughing fit. It was the last straw! In a fury like none she had ever felt, Paaie set the bowl of beads down gently on the floor beside an old, moth-eaten cushion, rolled up her sleeves, hiked her blouse up over her mouth and nose, grabbed an old furry hat she noticed sitting behind a broken canvas, and started dusting off the table. Clambering up onto the much-less-dusty table, the kelvic pried open the windows. It took a good dose of elbow grease on her part, the hinges were so rusted and stiff, but by gods with some sweating and cussing the kelvic got them open.

　　　　　　　　　　　T H I S was the manner in which the spiritist walked in and found the kelvic. As Paaie looked round, mid-cuss with her fists clutching at the window-latch, her gaze planted right onto the myrian. He was standing in the doorway, with his unkempt black hair and myriad of black ink tattooes peeking from beneath his robes, wearing an expression as stunned as hers. An awkward, confused few ticks of silence congealed between them until finally the myrian asked in a calmer-than-one-would-have-thought-suitable voice. "What are you doing in here?"

　　　　Paaie was so stunned, and so furious with the filth, the words were off her tongue before she could snatch them back. "What it look like? I clean this mess." Startled, the myrian's brows shot up and his mouth twisted with offense. Paaie was startled herself, but it was too late, she had already set the tone, so she stuck with it. "I broke beads you have."

　　　　　　　　　　The myrian glanced at the bowl the kelvic was gesturing at incredulously. A scowl hinted into his inked features and it looked like he was gathering himself to finally respond with the offense that was warranted by a stranger invading your home and washing your windows when the feline interjected his process with a tired sigh. "You pass me hat please?"
Turning to look at the furry hat the kelvic was using as a cleaning rag, the myrian hesitated—seemed to make a decision just then. He acquiesced, sauntering over to reach the hat over to the kelvic kneeling on his table—Cleaning. His. Windows.

　　R i g h t t h e r e, in that unexpected chime, in that oddly intimate gesture, Paaie had somehow inexplicably woven herself into the spiritists services.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Quite artfully, actually, she decided later on.

　　　　　　　　"There's water and soap in the washroom at the back of the apartment." The myrian muttered after a chime and shut the door with a gentle clunk. As he wove his way through the piles of stuff that dwelled in his lair the kelvic's dark gaze followed his back for a tick, thoughtfully...

　　　　　...before she wriggled down off the table, following happily.

[Paaie]

SELF GRADE

Planning +1
Observation +1
Investigation +1
Cleaning +1
Socialization +1

Planning: Warmer clothes for the cold seasons
Lhavit location: Zurya Plaza
Eavesdropping is the best way to learn new things
Most folk do not appreciate nudity
Lhavit location: Zintia Rest
Rostam: Myrian spiritist in Lhavit
Lhavit location: Den of the Lost
Ghosts may haunt the most unusual of places
Investigation: Following your nose
Cleaning: Dusting