<strong>Name:</strong>Peregrine<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Market Ward, Sigil<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Mid-morning<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Alzeggra, Peregrine<br/><br/><br/><br/>There were significant benefits to not being poor. Peregrine had tried that for a while after she had been unceremoniously dumped into the metaphorical wilderness after she first been forcibly removed from her home and it had been nothing but a headache. Having to do genuine work was bad enough, and that was compounded by the fact that she was not a particular cheap creature to house and feed. She weighed in at a sizeable fraction of a ton, and contrary to popular belief she wasn't at all cold-blooded. Most snakes could go months without eating in a pinch — she ate a cow a week, give or take.<br/><br/>And the morning thusfar had been more exciting than she had anticipated. She usually had rather relaxing mornings, curled up looking at figures, and had breakfasted accordingly. Then she had ended up slithering halfway across the city on what might as well have been an empty stomach.<br/><br/>Which is where it paid to not be poor. She did not actually make all that much in her official capacity such as it was, so she made up for it in graft. Her tab at the Frog and Firkin was entirely underwritten by appreciation for the catering she pointed in their direction in what probably should have been open bids, given the volume of custom.<br/><br/>It was only a pity they didn't have any actual frogs — she had nearly gotten up and left the first time she had been there and discovered that little fact — and she wasn't sure what a firkin was, but she suspected they didn't have any of those either. They did, however, have actual plates rather than the trenchers most similar places served out of, and their table wine was comfortably far away from vinegar. Perrin wrapped herself around a table and draped over two chairs as she properly got comfortable, half closing her eyes in thought as she watched the serving staff bring out the half dozen or so dishes and glasses.<br/><br/>On the up side, it was comforting to have for a while her greatest problem to try to figure out what wine went with a kofta sandwich. The answer was probably none of them, and almost certainly wasn't the riesling she finally settled on, but it was reminiscent of home enough that she didn't care. And lamb was a fairly light meat, anyways. Besides, the alternative would be to have it with beer, and she was hardly going to stoop to that level. Her sisters would never let her live it down if they ever found out.<br/><br/>She was two glasses in and feeling awfully relaxed when she finally got back around to her recent hasty departure from the curio shop. She had to wonder if Alzeggra had made it out all right. Probably. If nothing else the elf could have played the "I'm with the Festhall" card and wormed her way out, with mostly just backlash from some annoyed senior person who had to bail her out. Perrin would have done it herself, and had the cash earmarked for just such an occasion, if staying around and doing so hadn't involved being within a hundred yards of what was in retrospect almost certainly a bone golem.<br/><br/>Who put those on display anyhow? What if someone had wanted to buy the skull as a curio? Would the clerk have not allowed it, or would the silly thing have activated to prevent it from being taken? She doubted they would have let an unsuspecting customer just waltz out with it.<br/><br/>There was also the rather puzzling layer of other enchantments. A certain number of those were to be expected — anti-theft measures, or other scrying magics to spot when a wizard was pulling a fast one, coexisting with the latent dweamors on whatever was magical on the shelves, and a hundred other mingled sorceries. That at least was to be expected from any curio shop worth visiting. The one that had snagged her though was far more interesting. Really, it only made sense, putting in a sort of magical advertising where one could, although why it had snared her as it did was puzzling.<br/><br/>Then again, they also put a bone golem on display — perhaps the proprietor was simply going senile?<br/><br/>Possible, although more likely Perrin was just missing something. She was dead certain there were similarities in kind to some of the esoteric enchantments used by certain Sensate magicians, but it was hard to put her finger on how and to what degree. In retrospect it was easily the sort of thing that might have been engineered from first principles by a wizard who spent a lot of time in the Festhall, although put together with the place possibly being a site of smuggled recording stones made that suspect to say the least.<br/><br/>And<em>still</em>she had yet to fit this back to Harmony, whose equally puzzling interest from the maybe Fated now felt far in the past, for all that it was still the same morning.<br/><br/>Perrin reluctantly declined a third glass as she nibbled her way through her salad. No sense in making it harder to understand this mess. She took a third sandwich with her as well, working slowly through it as she meandered down the street, no more enlightened than she was feeling before she had curled up to eat. Although better fed, so that was something.<br/><br/>Perhaps Alzeggra had something more to go on? Now she just had to track the elf down. She sighed and removed her watch, glancing at it. A fair while since she had fled, more than long enough for Alzeggra to have finished whatever it was she was doing and make good her escape. Which meant tracking her down was going to be endlessly vexing. Oh well, nothing for it. She slithered off back towards the shop, loitering half a street down for a while before heading back in the direction of the Festhall. If she didn't find Alzeggra on the way there'd be plenty of urchins making a nuisance of themselves there to get a message through.