“You will not find what you are searching for here, my child.”
The gentle voice of the old man was forced, insincere. Scratchy gray eyebrows furrowed deeply in a creased face, his lips trying not to curl into a sneer. Did these “priests” not teach the manipulation of shadow energies? Perhaps it was her wording of the question. Or perhaps the old bishop’s unwillingness to help came from something…deeper. His wall of faith was tall and strong, like the opulent walls of his place of worship. She could see that he never dared to look beyond it, from the impatient breath he drew. The longer Anisse stood there, staring at him from behind her shadowy cowl, the more she could feel his mask of humility crack, little by little. Amusing little man.
No, she would not find what she was looking for here.
Anisse passed like a phantom back down the sloping steps, eager to get away from the grand Cathedral of Light. If the gold spent to beautify its arching walls might be put instead to the rest of the city, she thought Stormwind might have been in better shape. She was used to far less accomadating situations in any case, like the “grandeur” of a small tent and blankets. Still, the feeling of the cold ground of the catacombs in the Slaughtered Lamb was more comforting than the rented out rooms and their beds. She slowly climbed up the ramp to the tavern and entered, nodding toward Jarel once.
“Ah. Another bowl of stew?” The bartender was already preparing a bowl, a spoon. Anisse waved him off quickly, and the wooden bowl and spoon disappeared beneath the countertop. She slid into her wooden chair, her back turned to the rest of the empty tavern, the book slipping from her arms and opening onto the table. She’d at last passed through the chapters that made her feel like an idiot child intending on writing an essay on the demonic arts. Diagrams and the descriptions of basic spells filled the current chapter, and she was pleased. Somewhat. She would have to put these spells to the test. Feeling the surge of magic through her fingertips would teach her more than these words could ever say. There would be no reagent gathering for this “imp”? She let herself relax in her chair, hearing the wood creak lightly as she moved, finding the ragged tome interesting finally.
Then came the sound of obnoxious, whispery giggling.
Anisse glanced behind her as the giggling grew louder, also accompanied by the creak of heavy armor. Her head rose enough to spot the two that had entered, the male in his dark plate, a woman tucked against him. There was an aura of cold about the tall male, as if his armor was stung with a sheet of thin ice. Jarel was quick to offer them services, and Anisse was quick to get back to her reading. Flattening the pages of her book, the hooded woman sighed, blotting out the sound of their conversation as best she could. Focusing on a spell listing, she ran her finger under its description. Corruption: Inflicts a curse of shadow energy onto the proposed target, corrupting the body and eating away at its life forces for an allotted amount of time. The spell is best used in conjuction with fear, or while the target is focused upon a de—
The table rattled as the armored man took a seat, the woman he came in with still hooked to his side. At her table. Anisse didn’t bother to look up and acknowledge the stranger, but she could tell his icy glance was upon her.
“I am looking for someone. Maybe you can help me?” the man started, a strange echo following his voice. It caught her attention, the disembodied sound. Yet, it still did not convince her to look upon him. A look would entail a welcome to sit.
“Doubtful,” Anisse spoke lowly, flipping another page of her tome with emphasis. Apparently he didn’t get the hint, for the man continued asking questions about nothing she knew about. He seemed convinced she knew the answers, or that he had known her from somewhere. After trite, one worded answers, Anisse excused herself from the table, letting out a deep sigh.
“I’m afraid I don’t know you. Go away,” she spoke hollowly, already irritated that she had to leave her seat. More whispering from the lewd woman clinging to his arm, and the table rattled again as they rose together. Finally, a prelude to peace and quiet. She glanced their way as the two moved to the back of the tavern, the woman’s skirts brushing the wooden floorboards as she sashayed alongside the armored man. Anisse glanced harder now as the two slipped down the twisting ramp that lead down the basement. The last of the woman’s coppery curls disappeared as the two went past her vision. She knew that woman.
Anisse had her heart in a jar downstairs.
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