Tallith drifted down the cluttered, choked road of a city marketplace, but her attention never fell upon her surroundings. Instead, her gaze was fixated upon the amulet nestled in her palms. She turned it over again and again, studying its surface and silently scrutinizing the piece. It compelled her to... Do things; to follow paths she would otherwise not consider. It was dangerous to let one’s fate be determined by such enigmatic devices.
Tallith hummed and brushed a thumb over the thing’s surface, feeling for indentations for the umpteenth time. Her pondering was cut short by the interjection of, incidentally, the also-umpteenth person she had bumped into whilst aimlessly shouldering her way through the city’s crowds.
The Thaumaturge didn’t hear what the man said, but she met his gaze and gleamed more than enough from his purple visage. Tallith hemmed and stared up at the heavy-set docker while her fingers traced mindless patterns on the amulet.
“What does this look like, to you?” She inquired loudly, thrusting the amulet before the man. He was so taken aback by the question that, for a moment, his anger left him.
“What?” He blinked.
“What does this amulet look to be, to you?” She repeated adamantly.
“A necklace?” He hazarded, confusion only deepening.
“Has a necklace ever told you what to do?” Tallith asked again, though this time more quietly, as if sharing some terrible secret.
The man simply shook his head, eyes widening slightly as it dawned on him that this tiny woman he had been sent to shake down was likely a lunatic, witch, or both. Crows were ill omens, and yet she wore a cloak of only their feathers.
“And yet, it speaks.” She finished upon his silent response, giving a significant glance to the man, as if he had aided in some scientific debate. “I fancy, if I made you a necklace, you’d be quite talkative, yes?”
Their conversation began to draw curious glances from passerbys in no hurry, erstwhile the man hazarded another question. “Make me a necklace?” He pointed to his throat, misunderstanding.
In spite of his size, the man was ill-prepared for Tallith’s hand whipping out to seize his collar and begin dragging him down to eye-level. Her grip was like an iron clamp. “No. I will make you into a necklace.” She hissed, tone lowering to the very edges of his perceptive abilities. The man’s eyes narrowed, reckoning this was a fistfight he could win, but unsure if this lunatic would draw steel. He bared his teeth and wrenched himself from the Mage’s grip, grimacing all the while.
Tallith dusted off the glove she had grabbed him by and began navigating around him in a wide circle, eyeing her almost-opponent warily, and he did likewise. When they parted without conflict, she breathed a sigh of relief and returned to her study of the amulet.
