62nd of Autumn, 518
Time sits still for no man.
The adage rang true when Savis Maren heard it as a young girl, spilled forth from the lips of a father holding back tears. Grim acceptance of a fate in the making for years, the bitter words were one of the last the then-mortal and dying girl heard with living ears. Rendered blind and deaf by her illness, the grim words took a whole new meaning. One of lies, for as the girl waited for death, time certainly seemed to grind to a halt.
A lying father. How fitting that a pointless adage spilled forth by a helpless fool would turn into a mockery for my entire existence? Yes, time sits still for no man, but I am not a man,
The Nuit's musings were only for her to hear as she dwelled within her accommodations, relishing in her solitude. The Nuit stood uncovered by fabric, but the thin bandages that painted white all over her graying, pallid skin kept a modicum of modesty about her. For the moment. Quickly, the Nuit uncovered herself, throwing the sopping bandages aside.
Damp and brittle from the mixture of formaldehyde and perfume, the bandages were no longer useful. The Nuit took hold of her embalming tools, bringing them to her flesh and rubbing the formaldehyde upon her as of yet whole and 'healthy' flesh. The incisions in her body had melted away, the scars of her dead flesh cauterized by the mixture of fluids she possessed to preserve her shell for the longest stretch of time possible.
As Savis Maren rubbed the formaldehyde into her flesh, she also scrubbed her pores, meticulously cleaning her form without washing and possibly exposing herself to bacteria that'd further poison her already inevitably decaying body. Satisfied that her efforts were fruitful, the Nuit set forth to the opposite side of her bedroom, retrieving fresh bandages and wrapping them about her flesh in thin layers.
The first layer was treated with formaldehyde, the next layered with a pleasant perfume created by Lhavitian merchants from the flowers of the mountain. Then, she wrapped a third layer about her arms and legs, parts of her that might find exposure to wounds easier than torso or back. She dressed herself accordingly, hiding her bandages under long sleeves and pants that covered her undead visage and made her look somewhat bulkier than the shell she bore truly was.
When the Nuit finished dressing, a ritual she underwent every ten days to assist in preserving herself, she raised her head up high, satisfied in a job well done before she exited her room, a haughty huff parting her lips as she scaled the staircase and made her way out of the Solar Wind Apartments. Reasonably tested in her navigation of the city of Lhavit, Savis Maren tipped her head as unnerving silver eyes cast their gaze about.
She found her path, lips parted in an easy smile. The undead woman was in fine spirits, her ritualistic commitment to the preservation of her decaying corpse a catharsis that bled through the senses. Her ritual preceded, of course, her plans to go out in the world. Savis Maren intended to expand her wardrobe, feeling that her current outfit, while functional, did not properly serve the voracious vanity that manifested within her. The desire to be lovely, the need to outdo and outdress the dastardly Ethaefal and their mortal subjects so highly wired into her brain after her many encounters with their kind that it could no longer be ignored.
Savis Maren trudged through the streets of Lhavit, turning through the city until she found the Silk Palace, hearing wild rumours of the impeccable, customizable attire that was created within its walls. Though the Nuit was often apprehensive of such rumours, she felt compelled to investigate them for herself. The place was obvious enough to find, beautiful fabrics of brocade and silk presented to her sights and immediately, the Nuit was enamoured. She reached into her pocket, dabbing an extra coat of perfume along her wrists and the still flesh of her throat before entering the facility to explore it for herself. Initially, the Nuit was welcomed warmly, though her condition even through her many layers and perfumed aroma disheartened the twins, who were anxious to step aside without assisting the Nuit.
Savis Maren was glad for such distance, however, for she was more than able to make her own decisions without prying eyes (no less of children so very close to the age her mortal form was) and ears paying attention to her. No, the Animator was capable of finding her own way, and she did. Silver eyes combed the many fabrics available to her, fingers playing at the unbroken surface of silken perfection. The woman's eyes ignited with vibrant desire, a sort of elation that even the Inarta children picked up on.
Endeared to the presence of the Nuit following such a display, they began their approach, but Savis Maren did not acknowledge them. Instead, she pulled at the wellspring of djed within her. Deep within the soul, it stirred at her command. She guided it forth, pulling it from her chest and up along her throat before it manifested within her eyes. Pale, silver eyes sparked with the momentary flicker of life before they were emblazoned with the mark of Auristics. The Aurist picked up a footlong layer of fabric, her lips parting in subtle incantations to preserve her Sight and embolden it. She saw through the silk before looking into it. Woven fibres became apparent to her, the patterns arousing her delight as she filtered from fabric to fabric. Eventually, the Nuit beckoned the Inarta children to join her, the incantations ceasing as she parted her lips and allowed words to flow through them. No longer plagued by the bite of the Summer, which robbed her of both eyes and voice, her tone was high and her words rich, flowing easily from her as she asked,
"How much fabric would I require for three scarves, one of which is padded at double the normal thickness?"
The Inarta knew the answer immediately and told the Nuit. The woman was looking at a transaction valuing 100 kina, but the number didn't bother her so much as assurances of quality and beauty appealed to her. The woman cared little for comfort, for her sense of touch was muted the farther she got from her extremities. Sight and sound were her only true, unbroken senses, and she delighted in the exploration of the both of them when time allowed. The Nuit did not immediately make her order, and instead continued to filter through the store, searching for the perfect fabric. After all, it needed to serve a purpose as well as be a vessel of beauty and envy throughout the city of Lhavit.
"The dimensions are irrelevant," she began, muttering to herself so that only souls very nearby her would overhear. The reason for her arrival was not meant to be a mystery, but Savis Maren hardly cared for eavesdroppers catching wind of her projects and taking them from underneath her.
"The thickness is of tantamount importance. A cut to hollow the fabric and house the mechanism... Perhaps I should use an inferior fabric to begin with? Perfect the design and then indulge myself with the final result when the time comes? Hmmm..." the Nuit mused, her cold fingers traversing the surface of a beautiful velvet fabric that, sadly, couldn't meet her specifications.