4.9

The keys rattle along the hooks beside the front door. The retail uniform jacket over the coat stand and the backpack turned back on the small bench. Long drew sigh, the relief of being home.

Worn out sole trainers untied and tucked under. Floppy soft slippers exchange and toes wiggle comfort.

Hands danced zips of the backpack, removing tupaware lunch box and two flasks. A flask of what was iced tea and was a flavored coffee. She softly began to hum a tune she been forced to hear at work. She hates it but it was catchy and a easy ear worm.

She took it easy in trying to stand, a little wavery in her poor blood pressure and paleness her glop of make up hide. She frowns once stood, no longer humming.

A talisman that hung was crumpled and lost of ink. She stares darkly of knowing exactly why she keeps these paper stripes. Her ties she had severed the instant she understood what her worth was to a bunch of strangers. She now was prepare with taking a silver tipped cane out from the umbrella stand which is a the little hoop on the coat rack. She uses it to steady herself and play up that she was unwell. It undermines most that still break in for a duel. She kicks the scrunched paper to a spot she will notice for later, a reminder to replace it.

She walks somewhat cautious but otherwise playing it natural. Carrying her two flasks and plastic box under arm and the handle of the canes in the other hand. The first door to the left is the open joint space living room kitchen. Walking in was to a sofa that faced the fireplace and wall mounted TV. The bay window with bench wasn't disturbed, the books there normally spilt by those looking for something else. She sways softly right to her kitchen, the flasks lined by the sink and once again notice of no displaced order of things.

She nearly thought nothing of it, until she stopped at her stove. The spice rack had all the labels faced forwards, to OCD aligned for her. She can even tell that they were in alphabetically ordered by the Latin names. Her many paper recipes she printed from Esty request orders had this trait too. She has a Latin dictionary among her cook books due to this and her notes written beside each ingredient. She opens a cabinet of tin goods. They were uniform lines too, someone with to much time in hand. She closes this for now, softly. She thinks about her front door, the coats hung were in neatly placement and weighted on the rack flawlessly.

"Pardon the disturbance." The long brimmed hat removed and flat to chest. The neat Victorian cotton shirt was spotless, cufflinks matched and set a facing in a certain way. The neat trim hair line and no sign of a parting at the front. Modern fade sides but it's the only modern thing of this guy. He has no rings on and a silver chain from his belt rattles softly in a bow. Silver shimmered hair and clear gleaming eyes. Young like action of feet shuffling slightly but there is old agelessness to the manner his choosen to display.

She nearly snarls, a very cold part of her heart seems to tell her not to trust this ghost. This man with smooth moves. He clearly flawed, OCD and can't stop himself touching everything she owns. If the talisman by the stairs had been removed, she will know he went to her bedroom and organized her clothes. Or the study with shelves of books.

"What do you want, undertaker?" She had a disapproving tone of his rudeness to inviting himself in. She doesn't even let Angel's conduct favours for her, "What business are you here for that doesn't require me to be accepting unfavorable problems? I will not accept any contracts and smooth sly deals. I will not sell my soul and I don't really care for your loyalty to anything." She stomps the cane in breaking him from saying something, "Do not even dare ask me about some book that some bunch of idiots of my bloodline have obsession over." He raised a brow and it plenty in tell that his not here for that. She posed her left hand in saying he can speak now.

"You duelled or will duel with a very important undertaker. You asked for a nickname as payment." He takes a letter from a inner pocket. She wasn't bothered in staring at all of his clothes yet but he does have a very expensive neat jacket and matching waist coat, "Mm..." He checks it over a last time, "Do you even realize it?"

"That I duelled a monarch and could have asked for something more. That I am cursed thrice over. Or that I come from a bunch of nut jobs?" She crossed arms, "Is it that I fully aware your not alone and that you all are invading my personal space? You think standing around is protecting you from me kicking all of you out of here?" She didn't bother seeing if people were sitting on her sofa, because she knew that already. She had glared at them for the insult of assuming she didn't have this place in watch while she was physically left for work.

"I guess then your not a fool." The letter offered.

"I am still not selling my soul or my freedom." Snatched using the left hand. She glares as he steps out the way. She felt the content within and reads it like anyone who has ever read any invisible book before. She felt the creases of the folds and the soft warmth of the still fresh wax seal. The bumps of how hard pressed the letter contain was written... she asks for recipes to be hand written the frist time with hard press. Several letters of different requests. She holds it without even opening it, she steps around to the sofa looking down on the guy to comfortable. The ignorance of assuming he is safe from danger and enjoying the luxurious leathers.

She stares and the this guy sits up. The sort of uniform of this one was matching to the OCD guy, in fact the same wardrobe. The monarch has snuck off realm to be rudly in her little Masonite. She only duelled this guy about 3 hours ago. She was waiting for the bus when it happened. She was annoyed of that interruption as she is with him being here now.

"Why are you here, Monarch?" She can't help her annoyance to taint her worded tone.

"Its not everyday that I get out much and you are interesting. Many of my dukes would never approve of me meeting a Seer." He claps and time is frozen, her grandfather clock and a kinetic sculpture were known signs of this. She makes sure that the two worked, if one failed the other would warn her she was in stopped time.

At the least, now she opens the letters and felt the pages. The Vellum paper used, the sort silt grain of the ink and the indents of the letters he hand written. She once more isn't reading without her sight but the feel of the paper. She knows these items, two types of candles. She sells those all the time. It's the third in she has a slower time working out, even bothers reading the making instructions too. Charm... a pouch charm. The ingredients aren't living stuff and on the damned black mark fetch high prices. She however has done charms plenty of times. She can access these materials. She folds the pages away, back to the envelope.

The Monarchs expression of watching her was of that same raised brow as the cold guy stood at her bay window. Already was he sticking his hands along the order of those books, the balance of wondering size ordering or attempting to last name author name stacking. She sighs in sort of getting it, these are just some esty orders that the king used to excuse himself or sneak off to watch be made. She crossed her arms, cane tucked at the ready for defensive flexing. She waits for the king to make his word. His the one that stopped time.

"Turly a living Trickster but..." The books being flopped down for the moment, "She's not doing the same church orders as they are. If anything, the charms she makes aren't even using religious text of the living nature." Steps in bow waiting for the king to say something to now. She rolls eyes and walks to the kitchen, puts the letter of recipes flat and having a really proper go of translation. Touch reading into new written notes of her own, but typing them on a type writer she fetched out from seemingly nowhere. She does this all standing and typing it all in touch. She has a constant look at the two gentles just moping in her living room.

"If you are assuming I would suggest something to drink, you must ask yourselves if you were invited here in the first place. Even then, you assume I keep anything in hand for such occasion." She speaks while typing, multitasking at ease, "The nerve." She strikes a key hard which rings a bell.

"You are right, we have let ourselves in and disturbed you without warning." The monarch voices, he held the same cadence as before and not a breath to it. She makes the last adjustment for the third page order, the ding of the bell at the of line echos loud. It's just the two of them and her up stairs room isn't disturbed. She reads the typed written print of the order, so much eacher in this font, size and paper colour. She tucks the four letters back to envelope, the last one she has out right refused to use eyes to read and wasn't written in the manner of indents she normally requests. It will be looked at some other time if not forced to this moment. At her own terms.

"You want two different warding candles and a bone charm." She shurgs, "You don't seem the sort of people to pay in living money. I am not into trading under table." She left the type writer on her counter, carries the yellow order print and the hand written orders in the original wax envelope. She leans standing by her fireplace in deep thought, "You can't be here to black mail me or something. I have no wishes to be associated with Trickster or their fancy cult church. I certainly hope your not asking me to either." She glares down and the monarch of which he relaxed backwards in the seat, "What to dead people drink anyway? You don't have organs or are we just sort of reborn when we die?"

"I came here secretly in wonder if you tell me who orders the candles." The king posed a open plam in body language of being causal, this works since their voices never change tones, "The use of such things are being found in strange places and in abnormal investigations. Your label is the only commonality in the candles." She shurgs gently at this, "Your already paid well enough with the nickname I have gifted you in the win of our duel." She clearly didn't read what nickname he gave her and given her frowned express the king posed at allowing her that moment to sink in. She returns at opening the letter again at the blank page, feeling it and then lowering to actually attempt in reading it. She doesn't actually understand at all what language that is and what it said. She shurgs at this.

"You are given a title of Shadow Duchess. You are a hidden member of our order, you will be given all the information under the person titled Shade and given protective identity cover by us. Your title has some uses among us but it's up to you how to use it. Although we highly recommend you play it like as you say, a dead person does things." A quote from the fight before. She is at least impressed of this much but there was likely a bigger reason for this hiding things, "Normally a undertaker that duels a monarch is automatically the new monarch. But you didn't accept that and we agree that giving the title to a living person..." The cold guy rolls hand in trying to say things.

"Your the only Trickster to bet me." The King adds, "Your the first in the longest time I know to fight me earnest and without bias. You figured out who I was but you did not forfeit the fight or take from me what was normally a given. You had forfeit the right to rule even after death, which interested me further. I wanted to look into you more. Give the title in person." She ahurgs at this at understanding thier grounds. She looks at the page, still confused of the writting and sort of just tucks it away properly. She hold the envelope close and shuffles at looking to the bone charm recipe.

"I have a ledger of all the hand written letters my esty orders are organized in. All abnormal new clients are not given candle orders without forfilling that require. I have had many from angels, demons and Oath walkers. I know that half of them are Tricksters, the send address are a give away." She speaks honestly and with direct look at the monarch, "The few demon lords that aren't family were recommended by family. The angels, I don't know. They have their methods that freak me out. Always sending birds or other creatures." She sighs deeper at really thinking hard, "There is three living clients." She tilts, "The only two that I don't have a reason for knowing why they order from me. One comes here themselves, waits for the order and leaves. They are very nice, if you can call it that." She pose a figure, "The last one. It's a reptile. You call it a god eater or slayer or whatever. But they don't order my candles."

"Indeed fascinating." The monarch sighed, a genuine one, "You don't take names."

"Yes... I have some names and mostly nicknames. I have a few summon names. How else do I get such things sent?" She smile lightly, "Besides, I have method in my ways. I asked for you or someone to write it. Hand written." She points at the envelope, "This is used to track you. I can tell you had order another to write these down, very clever. You will have heard the term witchcraft."

"Wait, so you have a method of tracking oath makers?" The nosey servant guy dropping books.

"Well yeah." She waved left hand dismissively, "It depends on a bunch of factors but it's do able. There is flaws like if they left outside of my reach or they enter protected grounds. They have to be present in the land I am also present in." She sighed, "Although once my items are sold, the items aren't tracked by me. So if they are handed off to someone else after purchase. It's no longer my responsibility for what they are used in. If they are used directly by a client or a client give to another client - I am more then happy to ship any important information to those of authority. Candles and charms aren't something to joke with. They can cause environmental concerns and disruption of orders. I can't in good intentions leave my goods to idiots."

"You are more helpful then I credit my assumptions." The monarch laughs, "Alright, I can't argue that you do this in good faith. Everything so far has proven enough for me to bridge some trust." He stands and offered his hand, "I herby forfill my duel stake. I will not need to give the crown but instead the title of shadow Duchess. You are now Ms Mystic. Madam Mystic."

She had no choice of the matter of turning down the hand shake. It was under the no changes agreement of the duel 3 hours ago. The stake of a duel is essential at forfilling and especially from a monarch of undertakers. She doesn't trust them but she can accept having a acquaintance. She was a lawful soul and felt it right to help justice in a place of court order or protection of vulnerable victims. She doesn't feel so guilty if she done what she can to best of her situations.

She can feel in the braced moment of holding such a cold dry hand in hers. The feel of sliced ice buried into the cold place of her mind and and heart. She does nothing to change any terms while accepting an undertaker title. She doesn't feel to have to change herself or any need to cater difference with this undertaker or others. She simple stays as she wishes, to abide by the laws of the place she at. Like the oath hunters do. Short shake and quick to let her go. He sits down likely feeling the release of duel law over him. Which was why this was sooner then later.

"Alright Madam Mystic. I will leave it to Shade to pick up my orders. I give trade of your services and giving you some authority under the title. I am sure soon you understand the extent of my gifting." She softly posed her left hand at giving a shurg, "I thank you for your time and will be in contact soon again in your view of time." He stands staggered and yet independently, "Please keep well." He claps time return but they both are gone.

She stands stating at nothing a while organized her thoughts. She still didn't have that moment to ask about the charm he requests about. She looks at papers, shuffles and get to it. Not sure when Shade was about to come back for things. She also got on with living things like dishes, cooking a meal to eat and sitting down at the TV to watch the series she likes. She fixed the talisman at her front door. She boxed orders or send them with the corresponding methods of request. She protects and seals away the wax seal letter in her hidden spot. She also goes through looking for any repeat replica recipe from previous requests. She doesn't really find one which weird her out. She gladly made the candles and the charm and has them in a neat gift red bag, a little black ribbon.

Just before she turns over to bed tonight, she makes a new stamp logo for future documentation under her 'Madam Mystic'. She hand writes this into a letter with the stamp. Uses the stamp on the red gift bag. She loves how it turned out, MM with a sparkly mist and a clawed paw. This claw paw is referenced to the cat skull logo of her esty business. She brushed her tired eyes and tredges up the stairs. The orders all aligned along the fireplace, but the gift bag for the Monarch. It was places in a cabinet that was half finished by 'Shade'. The creep will have fun with how she made her kitchen a disorder while making her orders. She wonders if he would be annoyed or appreciative.