Vivazzi Plaza was no place for a gently bred lady to be past dark, but desperate times called for extraordinary measures. Isabeau, in the form of a greater racket-tailed drongo, watched the hulking building with the cracked bell and struggled to keep her human-thoughts in order. The drongo’s mind was not made for reconnaissance; it wanted only to flee to the treetops and eat bugs.
Alas, there was no way she could walk through the Blind Eye’s doors. But flying in through a window? That was eminently doable. Helpfully, one of the windows on the top floor was always open. She flew to the window sill and scanned the room with beady dark eyes. Master Frey and his pet were out. The room within was calm and dark, though the scent of griffon made her drongo body want to flee. Isabeau hopped down and returned to her human-shape, shivering as feathers gave way to skirts and skin.
There was much that was interesting to look at here but Isabeau could not afford to be caught. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair and faced the door she knew would lead out to the hall, listening for movement. Satisfied that she would not bowl into a servant or – worse – the owner of these rooms, Isabeau crept out and shut the door quietly behind her.
At this time of night, the Blind Eye was packed. She could feel the vibration of music and voices through the thin soles of her slippers. The office she was looking for was close – if Lord Pavus had been the type to leave his windows open in winter, she might have saved a little bit of trouble.
Bent over, Isabeau negotiated with the lock. It was not spelled; the iron itself was simply resistant to meddling by its very nature. It was easier by far to eject the fittings from the wood entirely – Isabeau vented a tiny sigh of effort as the knob and mechanism came away in her hand. She carried these inside, letting the door float closed, though of course it would not latch again. That was alright. In the end, she wanted to be noticed. Eventually. By one person.
She took in the dark office, frowning very slightly to herself. Unlike his partner, Pavus did not seem to spend much time actually residing here. The furnishings were fine enough, but the books on the shelves had the uncracked spines and crisp edges of the never-read. The brass stove was polished to a shine with no ashes in the grate. Abandoning the doorknob on the desk, Isabeau set about building a small fire within.
Then, she sat down in Lord Pavus’ chair at the desk – and waited. Surely he’d come upstairs at least once before morning?
Alas, there was no way she could walk through the Blind Eye’s doors. But flying in through a window? That was eminently doable. Helpfully, one of the windows on the top floor was always open. She flew to the window sill and scanned the room with beady dark eyes. Master Frey and his pet were out. The room within was calm and dark, though the scent of griffon made her drongo body want to flee. Isabeau hopped down and returned to her human-shape, shivering as feathers gave way to skirts and skin.
There was much that was interesting to look at here but Isabeau could not afford to be caught. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair and faced the door she knew would lead out to the hall, listening for movement. Satisfied that she would not bowl into a servant or – worse – the owner of these rooms, Isabeau crept out and shut the door quietly behind her.
At this time of night, the Blind Eye was packed. She could feel the vibration of music and voices through the thin soles of her slippers. The office she was looking for was close – if Lord Pavus had been the type to leave his windows open in winter, she might have saved a little bit of trouble.
Bent over, Isabeau negotiated with the lock. It was not spelled; the iron itself was simply resistant to meddling by its very nature. It was easier by far to eject the fittings from the wood entirely – Isabeau vented a tiny sigh of effort as the knob and mechanism came away in her hand. She carried these inside, letting the door float closed, though of course it would not latch again. That was alright. In the end, she wanted to be noticed. Eventually. By one person.
She took in the dark office, frowning very slightly to herself. Unlike his partner, Pavus did not seem to spend much time actually residing here. The furnishings were fine enough, but the books on the shelves had the uncracked spines and crisp edges of the never-read. The brass stove was polished to a shine with no ashes in the grate. Abandoning the doorknob on the desk, Isabeau set about building a small fire within.
Then, she sat down in Lord Pavus’ chair at the desk – and waited. Surely he’d come upstairs at least once before morning?
02-08-2025, 11:13 AM
