Chương 10: Chapter 8 ~ The Witch's Lair

19/10/1111 EotTS, 11: 00 Lyma slowed her pace as the wall of red bricks and grey mortar running along the sidewalk changed to a wall of stacked grey stone blocks with a tall hedge sprouting out from the top. She stopped in front of a wrought-iron gate that was beneath a stone arch connecting one side of the wall to the other.

Reaching over, Lyma raised the latch, pushed the gate inwards, and stepped under the stone threshold, into the yard; Visi and Gysel followed, but Visi stopped in the middle of the threshold, allowing for only a limited view of the yard and house within the walls. The house was three stories with perhaps an attic (it was hard to tell; there was a round window in the center of the slanted roof, but it could be a skylight, or maybe an attic window).

A simple gray stone had been used for the main construction material, with wooden supports, and ivy creeping up and around windows on lattices, all the way to the overhang of the patinaed, green copper roof. Through the space between Visi's arm and torso, Lyma could be seen talking to a blonde woman—Wyohla? probably, well, Wyohla—lying in a reclining yard chair, and they were both darkened in the rustling shade of an old oak tree.

Wyohla had a long, black, temple-warden pipe hanging from the corner of her mouth, but the rest of her was obstructed by Visi, then Lyma, then the shade and the wispy boundary of the fog. Lyma waved a hand at Visi, and he turned, ushering Gysel out. If the reason was important, he probably would have said why; Lyma likely just had to inform Wyohla that there was now a new person in their group, and that she had been brought along.

"Sorry about that... she has some... uh... strange morning routines," said Lyma, as she peeked her head out from around the wall.

"We can go in and just wait in the front hall while she dresses." Lyma's head disappeared back behind the wall, and Visi led Gysel into the yard, now providing a clear view of the whole house. There was a large bay window on the right side of the facade (there was also one on the left side), which allowed for a clear rendering of the interior, clear enough to see the silhouette of Wyohla walking up a stair, book and pipe in hand, and what looked to be a dark-blue bathrobe slung over a shoulder.

A flagstone pathway ran from the wrought-iron gate and along the right-side wall, splitting into two paths: one that led to the backyard, and the other that led to the steps before the black-oak front door. Moss had grown between the cracks in the stone, and was slowly creeping inwards, reclaiming the smaller stones completely, like nuts sinking into batter. Lyma opened the door, and went inside; Visi and Gysel followed.

The house smelled strongly of alcohol, vanillin, tobacco, and an undertone of sweat, and it wafted out from the open door before Gysel had even stepped inside. The ante-chamber was small, with a closet on the right, and a lowered tiled floor, with steps leading up to the main hallway, which had a staircase on the right, and two immediate entrances to rooms on both the left and right.

The house was dark except for: a warm hall light on the wall across from the stairs, casting the shadows of the balusters against the wall; and a light coming from the second floor, which was only revealed by the hints it left in the form of a soft, orange glow.

While the home of Wyohla was smaller than Mother and Father's house; being both narrower and shorter, it displayed material wealth in a way that made use of every available surface: this could be judged from the papered entry hall alone, as if there was room on a wall for a painting, there was a painting not a print, a painting, as the texture of the oil cast small shadows across the dreary scenes depicted on the canvas—the stair runner is a blue wool with a silver design woven in and is held down by silver stair rods, even the handle of the stair railing is silver, so are the wall-sconces, those are silver too, what about the knobs on the ante-chamber closet?

silver attached to black oak door, what else is black oak? that is an expensive material, the flooring of the hallway is, so is the one visible chair in the dining room, is the front door? yes, it is, it is black wood with silver tracery on the large glass window, the floor of the antechamber is a black marble, maybe a granite? no, a marble, that is marble, it has the little white veins on it, are shoes supposed to be taken off outside? Gysel started taking off her shoes.

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"You don't need to take your shoes off, Gysel," said Lyma, "we won't be staying long."

"All right." Gysel put her shoes back on.

Wyohla returned from upstairs after a few minutes: she was a tall woman (taller than everyone there even without shoes) with the high cheek-bones, and plump face (a recognizable phenotype that matched the charts on guard station walls, the charts they used to identify the region of birth of an individual from only a brief glance), belonging to those of the far north, but she had the angular, flat bridged, sharp pointed nose of a southern (her genetics decided that she could not be one or the other, nor could she be somewhere between, so she had to be both), her silvery blonde hair was also that of a northerner, and was cut just below the shoulder, combed back, then left to its own devices, where it had chosen to drape itself languidly over the right side of the head, despite the left half being tucked behind the ear.

She wore a cable-knit wool sweater in a shade of blue dark enough that men would simply call it black, and women would not care to argue over it. Its collar was a rather deep V-shaped cut, revealing the muted blue blouse beneath. The blouse had a ruffled poet's collar that descended to the second button, before turning into a normal, flat placket; the third button, which sat just above the tip of the 'v' looked as though it would rather be doing anything but its job.

Long black leather gloves disappeared into woolen sleeves. The sweater (and presumably, the blue blouse beneath it as well) were tucked into a black and blue plaid maxi-skirt, which was held in place just above her hip-bones by a thin leather belt with a silver, arrow-head like end tip. Her pudgy, lower abdomen made a small mound of the fabric between the waistband and the bottom of the darts.

All in all, Wyohla looked as though someone had dressed one of the marble statues of the maidens (Lahnfvae, more specifically) in an aesthetically nocturnal outfit. Wyohla put her hands on her knees, leaned in close, and inspected Gysel.

"Hello, Gysel. You're cute," Wyohla cooed; she had a soft, low, smoky voice, with the faintest hints of a northern accent, leaving the middle of her words rising like soft hills, but her 'R's as rolled as a calm, flat, meadow.

"Thank you... You are cute too," Gysel muttered. Wyohla was close enough that Gysel could feel her breath. Her eyes were beautiful, but this eye contact was too much; it needed to be broken, so Gysel looked down at the blouse, but now the discomfort turned to jealousy, then she looked to the closet door, admiring the thin streaks of white present in the grain of the black oak—it is a fine cut, do they charge more for this?

no, maybe not, a uniform black would be more desirable, but Wyohla likely has the wealth to get the uniform black, so this is an aesthetic choice.

"Where did you find this meek little mouse, Lyma?" Wyohla did not look away from Gysel, only smiled. Her light blue eyes with pronounced dark blue limbal rings were far too pretty to be ignored, and demanded their gaze be met, so Gysel met them with a side-eye.

"She's my roommate," Lyma answered.

"Did I not tell you last night?" Wyohla reached out to take Gysel by the chin. Gysel flinched and backed away.

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry. Do I look like I bite?" Gysel shook her head.

"You look like you want to eat me."

"I can do that without biting." Wyohla kept her smile as she spoke—why, that was not meant as a compliment, but if Wyohla took it that way, that is good, that meant she did not feel insulted.

"How can you eat me without biting? You would choke." Wyohla did not answer Gysel; she only snorted and stood up straight.

"Shall we leave?" Lyma and Visi nodded together; Gysel joined in just before they stopped. Picking up a large, full-looking, black leather purse, Wyohla pushed to the front of the group, and exited her home, leading the walk back to the foggy main street. Wyohla and Lyma picked up their walking pace and put about five meters between themselves and Visi and Gysel.

"Well, do you think she will?" Wyohla whispered to Lyma, but not quietly enough. Lyma's braids shook back and forth.

"No. Well, not now. You saw her."

"Fine, but if you think I'm missing this, you are deluding yourself." Gysel kicked a stone, watching it click down the sidewalk, before falling into a tree pit, and vanishing—what? what is this, they could just ask, maybe provide a little information, and they would have a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer, there is no need to be secretive, unless there is, and maybe there is, if they wanted the prospect adept to know, they would not have whispered. Wyohla and Lyma slowed, letting Visi and Gysel catch up.

They started talking about the plans for the day, and Gysel just listened; there was nothing to add, and if there was, the input might not be welcome.