Chapter 304 - The Bell Tolls III
Claire arrived in front of the shop roughly five minutes before it opened for its regular business. Technically, with Estelle living in the lab, it was never truly closed. A customer in need of urgent care could very well bang on the door until the perpetually tired doctor decided to respond. And in fact, that particular set of circumstances had played out on more than one occasion. Estelle was known for reluctantly accepting patients well past what could possibly be described as a reasonable hour.
Just the other day, one of the pigs further down the road had accidentally chopped off one of his own legs whilst preparing the next day’s stock. His brothers—the restaurant’s co-owners—immediately rushed him to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. It was not uncommon for such circumstances to lead to more work for the lyrkress. Estelle would only handle the patients’ care for as long as she was awake, leaving specific instructions for their ailments in the absence of her waking mind. Of course, most patients did not require such careful, extended care. A few potions or healing spells could fix most problems on the spot, but longer-term status conditions were not so easily removed.
Technically, all debuffs could wear off with enough time, but not all patients were willing or able to deal with them until said time frames elapsed. Specific ailments required specific cures, and not even doctors or healers could necessarily fix them on demand. Their jobs consisted of bolstering the victims’ resilience and suppressing their most potent symptoms so they could outlast their negative status. The mixtures prescribed in such cases were typically anesthetic, calming, and perhaps anti-inflammatory, but they could not be simply applied and expected to work.
Salves and patches required magically attuned third parties to carefully control the release of their medicinal properties. Too little, and the patient would not feel the medicine’s effects, and too much would trigger unintended consequences worse than the problems the medicines were meant to treat. There certainly were military-grade variants that could function without such careful control, but their recipes were top-secret. Even with the necessary knowledge, they were not easy to produce. They required rare materials, the handling of which required equally rare equipment.
Most of the people subjected to such potent status conditions were monster hunters, namely those tasked with eliminating highly specialized beasts. In Vel’khagan, petrification was especially common. A newly discovered dungeon only a few hours from the city sported a number of powerful snake creatures whose stone gazes could kill if left untreated. By volume, the treatment of stone-faced guests served as the shop’s third most popular product, following far behind the information brokerage in second.
Fortunately, Claire found no overnight patients when she ventured through the door. In fact, she found no one at all. With no one to treat and her nightly brewing done, the doctor was sound asleep in her office, snoring the day away.
The rest of the morning, likewise, went by without issue. Chloe bounced around the shop, removing all the dust she could find, Boris basked in the sun, and Sylvia curled up on the desk. Left to her own devices, Claire resorted to practicing her magic. They were just light exercises, conducted with the purpose of rehabilitation. She made tiny ice sculptures, messed up the maid’s hair, and meditated at her desk for as long as her patience would allow.
When her boredom reached its limit, she fell back on her newest hobby: wasting blank sheets of paper. Her drawings weren’t awful per se. In fact, her dexterity ensured a somewhat decent outcome, but they certainly weren’t worth the materials invested in their making. It wasn’t correct to say that they were worth nothing—there was still an entire cult of mermaids obsessed with the collection and consumption of Claire-related goods and Pollux’s deletion had only furthered their belief—but Claire was simply unwilling to sell them. There was no shame greater than associating her name with a set of inferior goods and intentionally putting them beneath the public eye.
“What are you drawing?”
With all her cleaning already wrapped up for the day, Chloe approached the desk from behind and looked over the caldriess’ shoulder. Though not quite proud of her work, Claire did nothing to hide it. She took a moment to narrow her eyes at the maid before leaning back in her chair and revealing her canvas. It was a sketch of a landscape, or more accurately, three landscapes packed into one. The sky was a forest, and the foreground featured something that was both a meadow and a marsh.
“A scene from a dungeon,” said Claire, with a frown. “It would be clearer if it was coloured.” The whole thing was sketched in black ink. It was the only kind they stocked, so it wasn’t as if she had much choice.
“None of the dungeons I’ve been to looked anything like that,” said the maid.
Claire paused for a moment to scrutinize the maid’s expression. She scanned her face, carefully studying the individual creases before she decided to speak. “You’ve gone dungeon diving?”
“Of course,” huffed the human. “I am a maid, after all.”
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything.”
“It has everything to do with everything,” said Chloe. “I’m not really sure what maids are like where you come from, but us Vel’khanese maids are the cream of the crop. We have to go through vigorous training, and there’s even an academy that specializes in maids and their courses. For the record, I graduated at the top of my class. I’m a certified Grade A maid.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”
“I don’t know why you’re doubting me. Maids never lie, right Sylvia?” The human turned her eyes to the freshly awakened fox, who was slowly stretching her grogginess away.
“Right,” muttered the vixen, with a yawn. “Wait, what are we talking about?”
“Lunch,” said Chloe. “I was asking if you wanted to try some of the fishcakes I made while you two were out on your morning flight.”
While Claire was unamused, the mention of fish had Sylvia drooling up a fountain. Her sleepiness vanished in the blink of an eye—the exact same amount of time it took for the maid to produce a set of containers from beneath her dress.
“Is Stella awake yet?” she asked.
Claire paused for a moment to listen before shaking her head. “It sounds like she’s still asleep. I don’t know when she’ll be up.”
“I’ll set some aside for her then,” said the maid.
There was a faint clang as she once again produced a series of impossible objects from under her skirt. Each of the four dinner-sized plates was accompanied by a full set of cutlery. The packages themselves were bundled up in pure white serviettes, each of which was tied in the shape of some sea critter or other.
The maid’s dress visibly lost a slight bit of volume each time she procured something from within. Somehow, to Claire’s outright confusion, she was actively and stealthily carrying everything present on her person. None of it had made any noise when she walked around; the metallic pieces were invisible even to the lyrkress’ ears.
“Keep staring like that and you’re going to make me blush,” said Chloe, with her face flushed red.
“I’ve never seen a less genuine blush in my life,” muttered the moose. “I literally watched you brush your face with makeup when you turned around.”
“Details,” said the maid, with a dismissive wave. She served everything with her other hand, splitting the food into four less-than-even portions. Sylvia’s, of course, was the most exaggerated. She had something in the realm of five pounds of fish on her plate. The few side dishes present were just there to cleanse her palate.
The other three were given more regular proportions, with each person having a little more of their preferred foods than the others. There was even a pie set aside for dessert, half of which the maid would surely claim for herself. It was a wonder how she was still as thin as a stick.
“How come you always carry all that stuff around anyway?” asked Sylvia, between bites of fish.
“A real maid is ready for any challenge,” said Chloe, as she proudly puffed up her chest.
“Don’t listen to her,” muttered Claire. “She’s spouting nonsense. Most maids are normal people, not deranged perverts carrying a hundred pounds of gear.”
“You’ve clearly never flipped a maid’s skirt then,” said Chloe.
“I haven’t, and I intend to keep it that way,” said Claire.
“Don’t worry. My heart might belong to Ciel, but I wouldn’t mind showing you two what I have hidden away from time to time.” The human’s wink was met with a flick between the eyes. By the lyrkress’ standards, it was still fairly light, but there was enough force behind it to leave a mark.
“Mmmnnn… I’m actually kinda curious now,” said Sylvia. She squinted at the human, only for her owner to grab her by the scruff and spin her around.
“No. Bad dog. No seeing through the stupid maid’s clothes.”
“Wait, she can see through clothes?” asked Chloe. She shot to her feet with her face heated. Unlike the last time, it wasn't just a silly prank. She was genuinely blushing.
“You can get embarrassed?” asked the caldriess, with a tilt of the head.
“Of course I can,” said Chloe. “Do you know how shameful it is for me to be caught wearing panties as plain as these? At least let me change into some nice lingerie first!”
“Utterly shameless,” grumbled Claire.
“Mmmmnnn… they’re not that bad? I think they’re actually kinda cute,” said Sylvia. “The purple frills look pretty good with all the lace.”
“Aw, thank you, Sylvia.” The maid reached over the table and gave the furball a scratch.
“I can’t believe the two of you are bonding over the stupid maid’s stupid panties.” Thoroughly confused, Claire set down her fork and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is all Alfred’s fault, isn’t i—wait a second.” She cast a suspicious glare across the table. “How’s someone that’s never worn a pair of panties in her life supposed to be a fair judge?”
“Hey! That’s rude! I wore them last week when we went to that clothes shop in that one desert town!”
“And how long did you wear them?”
“A whole five minutes!”
“Indecent.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” huffed Sylvia. “I told you like a million times already! Foxes aren’t supposed to wear panties.”
“Of course not.”
Ignoring the angry kit, who was playfully pattering her arm with her adorably fluffy paws, Claire directed her eyes at the box in front of her.
Log Entry 849128
You have been connected to World Chat.
Claire: Is Alfred here?
Alfred: Hello, Claire. Rather rare of you to seek me out yourself, isn’t it? How can I help?
Claire: Are foxes supposed to wear panties?
Dorr: Excuse me, wtf?
Dorr: Context?
Claire: Arguing with my pet.
Dorr: I’m not really sure what that’s supposed to explain…
Alfred: Right, I can certainly see why the two of you might not agree. To put it simply, undergarments were initially designed as a solution to prevent discomfort. The goddess of chastity blessed them so that vulnerable, hairless mortals would be able to find a means of remaining decent in public without suffering from the chafing often produced by lower-quality clothing. In that context, there is little reason for foxes to wear clothes; they do not require any of the heat-related functions and their tails serve to preserve their dignity. The idea that we should wear clothes for warmth and comfort, however, exists largely in the past. Undergarments do not strictly exist to serve their historical contexts. Their main purpose has been transformed over time, and they are now considered first and foremost a means of seduction. Foxes, especially those of the Llystletein variety, are too long-lived to see any interest in regular reproduction and must resort to less natural means of encouraging their mates to take up arms, so to speak. That is to say that the answer to your question is yes. Foxes are absolutely supposed to wear panties. I’ll advise on the precise styles shortly.
Claire: That’s unnecessary. Thanks. Bye.
Log Entry 849129
You have been disconnected from World Chat.
Fully satisfied with the result of the half-second conversation, Claire triumphantly grabbed the fox’s cheeks and tugged them as wide as they could go. When first subject to the unwarranted attacks, not too long after their meeting, the fox’s fluff only extended to a reasonable length, but with a few months’ of training under her belt, her puffy face stretched nearly twice as far.
“Huh? What the heck is this for!?” cried the elastic vixen.
“I just asked Alfred,” gloated Claire. “He said foxes are supposed to wear clothes.”
“He probably meant it in some weird, pervy way,” complained Sylvia, as her freshly relinquished face snapped back into place.
“That party trick is seriously freaky,” said Chloe. “It really doesn’t look like it should be possible. Are you using some sort of magic?” The human observed the dog for a few moments before her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, right. Speaking of magic, did you manage that seeing-through-my-clothes trick you did earlier by casting a spell?”
“Mhm!”
“That means it’s an enchantment, right? Can you cast it on other people?”
“Uhmmmm… I think so? I haven’t tried.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. She opened her mouth to change the topic, but the maid moved at an almost imperceptible speed. In just a tenth of a second, the human reached under her skirt and produced a box. She slammed it onto the table, and without a moment’s delay, ripped off its lid to reveal another three people’s worth of freshly cooked fish.
“Use it on me and this is yours.”
“Deal!” Sylvia opened her mouth wide before her pet could intervene and swallowed the container whole. That, however, was as far as she got. Claire seized her by the scruff and started stealing her mana before she could cast her spell.
“No. Bad.”
“Oh, come on, Claire,” scoffed Chloe. “What are you so worried about? You’re naked half the time anyway.”
The accusation earned the human a perfectly blank stare.
“I’m talking about that big snakey form of yours.”
“I have scales.”
“Scales that don’t leave much to the imagination,” said Chloe, with a wink.
A disgusted look flashed across the snake-moose’s face, but she refused to relinquish her fox. “Either way. No means no.”
“Mmmnnnn, I kinda already ate the fish, so I’m gonna have to uphold my side of the deal,” said Sylvia. “Oh, I know! What if I make it so she can’t see through enchanted stuff? That’d mean your cloak makes you safe.”
Still, the lyrkress shook her head. “I cannot allow you to unleash something so evil upon the world.”
“It really won’t be as bad as you think,” said Chloe. “It’s not like I’m planning to do anything too unbecoming with it.”
Claire opened her mouth to voice her disagreement but stopped when her ears suddenly started to twitch. “We should clean up. There’s an interesting customer coming.” Her grip loosened as she spoke, just enough for the furball in her arms to squeeze free. She tried catching her again, but Sylvia evaded her claws.
Chloe wasn’t convinced right away, but a more serious look changed her mind.
“Okay, fine,” said the maid, with a reluctant sigh. She stood up and got to work, sorting the various goods off the counter just in time for the doors to open.
Through the entryway walked a person with an eye-catching presence. It was so overbearing that Claire was able to identify him at a glance, despite having never seen him in person beforee.
He was the god of hermits. And he had come to the shop as promised.
Chapter 304 - The Bell Tolls III
Claire arrived in front of the shop roughly five minutes before it opened for its regular business. Technically, with Estelle living in the lab, it was never truly closed. A customer in need of urgent care could very well bang on the door until the perpetually tired doctor decided to respond. And in fact, that particular set of circumstances had played out on more than one occasion. Estelle was known for reluctantly accepting patients well past what could possibly be described as a reasonable hour.
Just the other day, one of the pigs further down the road had accidentally chopped off one of his own legs whilst preparing the next day’s stock. His brothers—the restaurant’s co-owners—immediately rushed him to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. It was not uncommon for such circumstances to lead to more work for the lyrkress. Estelle would only handle the patients’ care for as long as she was awake, leaving specific instructions for their ailments in the absence of her waking mind. Of course, most patients did not require such careful, extended care. A few potions or healing spells could fix most problems on the spot, but longer-term status conditions were not so easily removed.
Technically, all debuffs could wear off with enough time, but not all patients were willing or able to deal with them until said time frames elapsed. Specific ailments required specific cures, and not even doctors or healers could necessarily fix them on demand. Their jobs consisted of bolstering the victims’ resilience and suppressing their most potent symptoms so they could outlast their negative status. The mixtures prescribed in such cases were typically anesthetic, calming, and perhaps anti-inflammatory, but they could not be simply applied and expected to work.
Salves and patches required magically attuned third parties to carefully control the release of their medicinal properties. Too little, and the patient would not feel the medicine’s effects, and too much would trigger unintended consequences worse than the problems the medicines were meant to treat. There certainly were military-grade variants that could function without such careful control, but their recipes were top-secret. Even with the necessary knowledge, they were not easy to produce. They required rare materials, the handling of which required equally rare equipment.
Most of the people subjected to such potent status conditions were monster hunters, namely those tasked with eliminating highly specialized beasts. In Vel’khagan, petrification was especially common. A newly discovered dungeon only a few hours from the city sported a number of powerful snake creatures whose stone gazes could kill if left untreated. By volume, the treatment of stone-faced guests served as the shop’s third most popular product, following far behind the information brokerage in second.
Fortunately, Claire found no overnight patients when she ventured through the door. In fact, she found no one at all. With no one to treat and her nightly brewing done, the doctor was sound asleep in her office, snoring the day away.
The rest of the morning, likewise, went by without issue. Chloe bounced around the shop, removing all the dust she could find, Boris basked in the sun, and Sylvia curled up on the desk. Left to her own devices, Claire resorted to practicing her magic. They were just light exercises, conducted with the purpose of rehabilitation. She made tiny ice sculptures, messed up the maid’s hair, and meditated at her desk for as long as her patience would allow.
When her boredom reached its limit, she fell back on her newest hobby: wasting blank sheets of paper. Her drawings weren’t awful per se. In fact, her dexterity ensured a somewhat decent outcome, but they certainly weren’t worth the materials invested in their making. It wasn’t correct to say that they were worth nothing—there was still an entire cult of mermaids obsessed with the collection and consumption of Claire-related goods and Pollux’s deletion had only furthered their belief—but Claire was simply unwilling to sell them. There was no shame greater than associating her name with a set of inferior goods and intentionally putting them beneath the public eye.
“What are you drawing?”
With all her cleaning already wrapped up for the day, Chloe approached the desk from behind and looked over the caldriess’ shoulder. Though not quite proud of her work, Claire did nothing to hide it. She took a moment to narrow her eyes at the maid before leaning back in her chair and revealing her canvas. It was a sketch of a landscape, or more accurately, three landscapes packed into one. The sky was a forest, and the foreground featured something that was both a meadow and a marsh.
“A scene from a dungeon,” said Claire, with a frown. “It would be clearer if it was coloured.” The whole thing was sketched in black ink. It was the only kind they stocked, so it wasn’t as if she had much choice.
“None of the dungeons I’ve been to looked anything like that,” said the maid.
Claire paused for a moment to scrutinize the maid’s expression. She scanned her face, carefully studying the individual creases before she decided to speak. “You’ve gone dungeon diving?”
“Of course,” huffed the human. “I am a maid, after all.”
“I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything.”
“It has everything to do with everything,” said Chloe. “I’m not really sure what maids are like where you come from, but us Vel’khanese maids are the cream of the crop. We have to go through vigorous training, and there’s even an academy that specializes in maids and their courses. For the record, I graduated at the top of my class. I’m a certified Grade A maid.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”
“I don’t know why you’re doubting me. Maids never lie, right Sylvia?” The human turned her eyes to the freshly awakened fox, who was slowly stretching her grogginess away.
“Right,” muttered the vixen, with a yawn. “Wait, what are we talking about?”
“Lunch,” said Chloe. “I was asking if you wanted to try some of the fishcakes I made while you two were out on your morning flight.”
While Claire was unamused, the mention of fish had Sylvia drooling up a fountain. Her sleepiness vanished in the blink of an eye—the exact same amount of time it took for the maid to produce a set of containers from beneath her dress.
“Is Stella awake yet?” she asked.
Claire paused for a moment to listen before shaking her head. “It sounds like she’s still asleep. I don’t know when she’ll be up.”
“I’ll set some aside for her then,” said the maid.
There was a faint clang as she once again produced a series of impossible objects from under her skirt. Each of the four dinner-sized plates was accompanied by a full set of cutlery. The packages themselves were bundled up in pure white serviettes, each of which was tied in the shape of some sea critter or other.
The maid’s dress visibly lost a slight bit of volume each time she procured something from within. Somehow, to Claire’s outright confusion, she was actively and stealthily carrying everything present on her person. None of it had made any noise when she walked around; the metallic pieces were invisible even to the lyrkress’ ears.
“Keep staring like that and you’re going to make me blush,” said Chloe, with her face flushed red.
“I’ve never seen a less genuine blush in my life,” muttered the moose. “I literally watched you brush your face with makeup when you turned around.”
“Details,” said the maid, with a dismissive wave. She served everything with her other hand, splitting the food into four less-than-even portions. Sylvia’s, of course, was the most exaggerated. She had something in the realm of five pounds of fish on her plate. The few side dishes present were just there to cleanse her palate.
The other three were given more regular proportions, with each person having a little more of their preferred foods than the others. There was even a pie set aside for dessert, half of which the maid would surely claim for herself. It was a wonder how she was still as thin as a stick.
“How come you always carry all that stuff around anyway?” asked Sylvia, between bites of fish.
“A real maid is ready for any challenge,” said Chloe, as she proudly puffed up her chest.
“Don’t listen to her,” muttered Claire. “She’s spouting nonsense. Most maids are normal people, not deranged perverts carrying a hundred pounds of gear.”
“You’ve clearly never flipped a maid’s skirt then,” said Chloe.
“I haven’t, and I intend to keep it that way,” said Claire.
“Don’t worry. My heart might belong to Ciel, but I wouldn’t mind showing you two what I have hidden away from time to time.” The human’s wink was met with a flick between the eyes. By the lyrkress’ standards, it was still fairly light, but there was enough force behind it to leave a mark.
“Mmmnnn… I’m actually kinda curious now,” said Sylvia. She squinted at the human, only for her owner to grab her by the scruff and spin her around.
“No. Bad dog. No seeing through the stupid maid’s clothes.”
“Wait, she can see through clothes?” asked Chloe. She shot to her feet with her face heated. Unlike the last time, it wasn't just a silly prank. She was genuinely blushing.
“You can get embarrassed?” asked the caldriess, with a tilt of the head.
“Of course I can,” said Chloe. “Do you know how shameful it is for me to be caught wearing panties as plain as these? At least let me change into some nice lingerie first!”
“Utterly shameless,” grumbled Claire.
“Mmmmnnn… they’re not that bad? I think they’re actually kinda cute,” said Sylvia. “The purple frills look pretty good with all the lace.”
“Aw, thank you, Sylvia.” The maid reached over the table and gave the furball a scratch.
“I can’t believe the two of you are bonding over the stupid maid’s stupid panties.” Thoroughly confused, Claire set down her fork and pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is all Alfred’s fault, isn’t i—wait a second.” She cast a suspicious glare across the table. “How’s someone that’s never worn a pair of panties in her life supposed to be a fair judge?”
“Hey! That’s rude! I wore them last week when we went to that clothes shop in that one desert town!”
“And how long did you wear them?”
“A whole five minutes!”
“Indecent.”
“Now you’re just being mean,” huffed Sylvia. “I told you like a million times already! Foxes aren’t supposed to wear panties.”
“Of course not.”
Ignoring the angry kit, who was playfully pattering her arm with her adorably fluffy paws, Claire directed her eyes at the box in front of her.
Log Entry 849128
You have been connected to World Chat.
Claire: Is Alfred here?
Alfred: Hello, Claire. Rather rare of you to seek me out yourself, isn’t it? How can I help?
Claire: Are foxes supposed to wear panties?
Dorr: Excuse me, wtf?
Dorr: Context?
Claire: Arguing with my pet.
Dorr: I’m not really sure what that’s supposed to explain…
Alfred: Right, I can certainly see why the two of you might not agree. To put it simply, undergarments were initially designed as a solution to prevent discomfort. The goddess of chastity blessed them so that vulnerable, hairless mortals would be able to find a means of remaining decent in public without suffering from the chafing often produced by lower-quality clothing. In that context, there is little reason for foxes to wear clothes; they do not require any of the heat-related functions and their tails serve to preserve their dignity. The idea that we should wear clothes for warmth and comfort, however, exists largely in the past. Undergarments do not strictly exist to serve their historical contexts. Their main purpose has been transformed over time, and they are now considered first and foremost a means of seduction. Foxes, especially those of the Llystletein variety, are too long-lived to see any interest in regular reproduction and must resort to less natural means of encouraging their mates to take up arms, so to speak. That is to say that the answer to your question is yes. Foxes are absolutely supposed to wear panties. I’ll advise on the precise styles shortly.
Claire: That’s unnecessary. Thanks. Bye.
Log Entry 849129
You have been disconnected from World Chat.
Fully satisfied with the result of the half-second conversation, Claire triumphantly grabbed the fox’s cheeks and tugged them as wide as they could go. When first subject to the unwarranted attacks, not too long after their meeting, the fox’s fluff only extended to a reasonable length, but with a few months’ of training under her belt, her puffy face stretched nearly twice as far.
“Huh? What the heck is this for!?” cried the elastic vixen.
“I just asked Alfred,” gloated Claire. “He said foxes are supposed to wear clothes.”
“He probably meant it in some weird, pervy way,” complained Sylvia, as her freshly relinquished face snapped back into place.
“That party trick is seriously freaky,” said Chloe. “It really doesn’t look like it should be possible. Are you using some sort of magic?” The human observed the dog for a few moments before her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, right. Speaking of magic, did you manage that seeing-through-my-clothes trick you did earlier by casting a spell?”
“Mhm!”
“That means it’s an enchantment, right? Can you cast it on other people?”
“Uhmmmm… I think so? I haven’t tried.”
Claire’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. She opened her mouth to change the topic, but the maid moved at an almost imperceptible speed. In just a tenth of a second, the human reached under her skirt and produced a box. She slammed it onto the table, and without a moment’s delay, ripped off its lid to reveal another three people’s worth of freshly cooked fish.
“Use it on me and this is yours.”
“Deal!” Sylvia opened her mouth wide before her pet could intervene and swallowed the container whole. That, however, was as far as she got. Claire seized her by the scruff and started stealing her mana before she could cast her spell.
“No. Bad.”
“Oh, come on, Claire,” scoffed Chloe. “What are you so worried about? You’re naked half the time anyway.”
The accusation earned the human a perfectly blank stare.
“I’m talking about that big snakey form of yours.”
“I have scales.”
“Scales that don’t leave much to the imagination,” said Chloe, with a wink.
A disgusted look flashed across the snake-moose’s face, but she refused to relinquish her fox. “Either way. No means no.”
“Mmmnnnn, I kinda already ate the fish, so I’m gonna have to uphold my side of the deal,” said Sylvia. “Oh, I know! What if I make it so she can’t see through enchanted stuff? That’d mean your cloak makes you safe.”
Still, the lyrkress shook her head. “I cannot allow you to unleash something so evil upon the world.”
“It really won’t be as bad as you think,” said Chloe. “It’s not like I’m planning to do anything too unbecoming with it.”
Claire opened her mouth to voice her disagreement but stopped when her ears suddenly started to twitch. “We should clean up. There’s an interesting customer coming.” Her grip loosened as she spoke, just enough for the furball in her arms to squeeze free. She tried catching her again, but Sylvia evaded her claws.
Chloe wasn’t convinced right away, but a more serious look changed her mind.
“Okay, fine,” said the maid, with a reluctant sigh. She stood up and got to work, sorting the various goods off the counter just in time for the doors to open.
Through the entryway walked a person with an eye-catching presence. It was so overbearing that Claire was able to identify him at a glance, despite having never seen him in person beforee.
He was the god of hermits. And he had come to the shop as promised.
