The Fence

Kavi Fekim. 39. Owner of  Fekim’s Furnishings and Fancifuls

[seancerpg]

[kavi-fekim]

seancerpg​:

THE FENCE

Name: Kavi Nayan Fekim Age: 39 Pronouns: They / Them Gender: Nonbinary  Sexuality: Pansexual FC: Mahesh Jadu

TW: Sex mentions/references, Poverty, Robbery, and Indentured Servitude 

BIOGRAPHY

They’ve always been attracted to pretty, sparkly things, coveting them in their magpie-like fashion. They’ve always loved the oddities of life too, the little curiosities that by their very nature are utterly unique. They’ve known what it is to have very little, and they’re determined never to go back to that sort of life. It is a wonder, with their tendency to hoard all that they get their hands on, that they have managed to gain the reputation they have. When you want something moved, quietly, with no questions asked, it is The Fence you go to, visiting their little antique shop on Commercial Street. Their web stretches far, from the paupers of Whitechapel through to the very richest men in Westminster. They aren’t picky about their clientele, nor are they choosy about the goods they choose to sell on. Their finder’s fee alone would be enough to keep them living comfortably, but they like their little shop. If nothing else, it’s a marvelous way to keep their ear to the ground, and hide their more unscrupulous dealings behind a pretense of respectability.

THE GHOST

It watches them, always watches them. It is the eyes in the painting that follows them around the room, the doll that seems to move on it’s own. It has no form of it’s own, but it’s long since learned that it doesn’t need one to cause fear or pain. The Fence hasn’t noticed it yet, chalking it’s movements down to their own absent mindedness. Part of that irks it, for it thrives on the attention, but another part of it is grateful. They won’t see it coming until it is too late. 

With all the goods, both ancient and ill obtained, that make their way through their shop, it is almost more of a surprise that there has never been a spirit haunting the shop before. They make their business in the old and the stolen and sometimes the old and stolen take issue with that. This spirit that lurks in corners, waiting for the shopkeep to turn their back before moving another item out of place, it is old. It came in with one of the few true artifacts in the store, traded away wordlessly time and again for all of the mysterious things that happen in its presence that are somehow always left out of the provenance. 

It has found its home here, among the clutter, the things both new and old, the things harkening back closer to its time of existence, when its presence was so closely tied to an object. Though much of what the fence peddles is fake–something that angers it greatly–there are just as many that are real. And those true old things, having aged hundreds of years, touched by dozens of humans, stolen from homes and graves, they all carry their own energy. Energy the spirit can feed off of, growing its own strength. The longer it stays, the more power it gains.

It has never been quite as powerful as it is now, and even then, it has been capable of doing all sorts of things to madden its beholders. Now it wants to do more. This person who deals in dirty deeds, who bargains with thieves, who falsifies goods and tales for profit, they are not worthy of this shop. No, with time, this shop will belong to the spirit. It only needs to buy its time, sending the quietest of signals for its plan to the owner, until it can have everything it ever wanted.

CONNECTIONS

THE PAINTER: She’s been spending increasing amounts of time in the shop, and they’ve come to learn she is their favourite type of rich - the type who seems to have very little clue what to do with their immense wealth. They’ve identified a sort of naivety in her, despite her bravado, and it is that which has made her their target. They welcome her in with smiles, all the while gathering all the information they can to send thieves to her door to make off with everything they can carry. 

THE THIEF: He’s their oldest business associated, and their most trusted, bringing countless items to their door. They’ve made a handsome sum off of his endeavours, and they wouldn’t give that up for anything. Though their reasoning is selfish, they’ll pull all the strings they can to keep him as a friend, going far above and beyond for him than for anybody else.  

THE CURATOR: They might call her their best customer, if she wasn’t such a thorn in their side. She asks too many questions, caring far too much about authenticity and legalities for their liking. Luckily, they are a skilled forger, a necessity in their line of work, and their false documentation seems to appease her, but they have no doubt should she look a little closer, she won’t be able to deny the truth, and they’re wary of the trouble she will bring to their door should this ever occur. 

THE BARMAID: They think she’s delightful, with an undeniable charisma that would be fantastic for their business. She’s wasted in The Britannia, but so far, attempts to persuade her to take up employment in their shop have been for nothing. Still, they persevere. It would benefit them greatly should she accept, allowing them to focus on more pressing matters. 

HERRITAGE

Writer’s note on below indentured servitude : This came about from me researching Mauritius, particularly its Indian population, which is Mahesh Jadu’s personal heritage. It was based genuine historical context of the time period, where there was an influx of Indian indentured servants in the mid-1800s to early 1900s, when Kavi’s parents would have been working age and having him (sources 1, 2, and 3). If the inclusion of this part of Kavi’s heritage is something you find offensive, uncomfortable or not suitable for the group, please reach out to myself or the admins and I will have it removed from Kavi’s history.

Until age 8, Kavi was raised in Mauritius. Their mother was born in the country and their father was 18 when he came to the island nation as one of the slew of Indian indentured servants brought to Mauritius. Their father was able to work through his contract and, against reasonable odds, met a woman he fell completely in love with who was worth staying for. Though there was an abundance of love in their home, there wasn’t of anything else, so the family set off for a better life in London. The idea of that now is almost laughable. Their life in England was far from better. The family had spent what tiny savings they had on the move and work was not as easily found as their parents would have thought. Kavi grew up in the slums of the city, always moving from house to house (or none at all) when the money wasn’t there for rent, always making do with stale bread and bone soups for meals. They hold a bit of resentment toward their parents for the life they had growing up. And now that they have found a bit of money and success, there is nothing they would not do to avoid returning to that poverty. They cling to their life and belongings they have now because they will not be going back to having nothing.

Though Kavi’s time in Mauritius was limited, the culture of the country, as well as their father’s homeland have left their impact on Kavi. They’ve been multilingual since they could talk, speaking French, Mauritian Creole, and Hindi fluently since they were very young and adding English after they came to the UK. That fostered a love of language and an ease for learning them and they now have conversational Spanish and Egyptian (the latter coming in useful for work) and can manage pieces of Latin (almost exclusively due to work). Though they certainly do enjoy some of England’s fashion and dabble in it as well, they deeply enjoy wearing garments from Mauritius and India, being as they are with most things, prideful in their heritage. They also enjoy garments from other cultures and the same can be said for items the wind up both their personal collection and their shop. They enjoy culture as a whole in all its ways. Kavi was raised around the Hindu faith and though they do not practice it, they still have a deep respect for it and tend to honor Hindu holy days as holidays for their shop.

ODDITIES 

Kavi has a special place in their heart for things that fall under the idea of oddities and curiosities–taxidermy animals, glass eyeballs, witches' items, an old vampire hunting kit. They can’t explain why, but they give them a particular delight. They have their own little shrine of it in their home and always keep a good stash of it in the shop (though it never sells well). Their most prized possession is a taxidermy raven posed on a ram’s head. It always sits upon the highest tower of their shop piles, looking over everything. A few customers have tried to buy it over the years, but when they ask the cost, Kavi will throw out some astronomical figure far more than it’s worth. Truthfully, they would never sell it and they know it, but it stays on the shop floor all the same.

RELATIONSHIPS

Kavi is unabashed when it comes to both their pansexuality and the amount of hook-ups or short term relationships they involve themselves in. In their book, love is love and pleasure is pleasure and they intend to enjoy pleasure in all its formats before their days are up. When it comes to deeper connection, that is something that is much more rare for Kavi. Even friendship is a hard-earned title given out to a precious few–those who have proven their worth over the years like Lucian. Their trust is hard to earn and if you have managed to, there is nothing Kavi will not do for you. But break it and you will see just how harsh a person they are capable of being and will go to the same great lengths to show you just what a mistake you have made in crossing them. 

THE SHOP

Kavi always enjoyed collecting things. When they were young, it started simple, a coin found on the street, a loose button, the caps to every bottle opened in their small home. Their family had so little in England that every little thing felt like a treasure worth hoarding. Their father even started calling them Adhela, Hindi for magpie. That was exactly what they were, flitting about life, collecting anything they could get their tiny grubby hands on. As they got older, the collections changed and they grew a reputation for it. If you needed something, go ask the little human magpie, they probably had it tucked away in some corner of their room or would scour the city until they found it for you. By their teen years, they realized there was money to be had in this bartering and it was money their family desperately needed. They grew their stock, being more meticulous about what they kept in the limited space of their bedroom and the closets of their family’s tiny flat. 

They kept every penny they could spare and saved up to rent a storefront. It was small, truthfully not much more space than they had already, but it was theirs. It allowed them to bring in bigger items, like furniture, establish a name as an actual business, not some kid pedaling trinkets from their parents’ apartment. Soon enough the connection to Lucian came about and the business was doing better than they could have hoped for. They expanded their shop, not just in size, but in offerings–not that the general public knows about the latter. It started, as most things do, from necessity. Certain goods just don’t move as quickly (or with as much profit) without some documentation behind it. So Kavi started making their own. When they got good, the information found its way into the right hands. Kavi can forge about any form of documentation you need done. They specialize in provenance documentation naturally, and have gotten notably good at identification documents, but given the right time (and of course the right fee), they can muster up something passable for almost anything you’d want. They’ve even been known to, either themselves or with the help of a few select artists, create forgaries of painting and duplicates of ancient art works and pottery. 

When they realized the business wouldn’t be a temporary thing, but instead their way of life, they finally saved to buy their own storefront, moving into the shop’s location today. It’s far from the largest store in the East End, but Kavi wouldn’t have it any other way. Somewhere along the lines, the business became their home. They can’t understand those who complain about work; at times, they feel more at home in their shop than they do in their own apartment. You can find anything from dressers to rings, divination bones to clocks, ancient artifacts to taxidermy animals. Their shop is known as the place you can find anything at least once and they love it. The collection is just as odd as they are, like a reflection of their insides manifested behind glass windows, stacked high with everything you could hope to find. To many, the things are just used junk, but to Kavi it is everything. It is what gave them a life. They continue to collect things in their little magpie ways, so that they will never be left with nothing again.

BREIF HEADCANONS 

Their store is named Fekim’s Furnishings and Fancifuls and is nearly always in a state of organized chaos (Think Mrs. Kim’s shop from Gilmore Girls)

They frequently call Lucian Lucy and Lulu. It annoys him, but really all the more reason to do it. It’s all in good fun and earns a grin from Kavi to see their ability to get under the skin of their friend 

Kavi learned a few sleight of hand tricks when they were little and enjoy making use of them, whether to draw someone’s attention to them or to pull a quick trick on some unwitting customer 

They’re somewhere between Eliot Waugh from The Magicians, Magnus Bane from Shadowhunter Chronicles, and Xenophilius Lovegood from Harry Potter. I wish I could expand further on this, but I can’t. 

They’re a plant mom™. They have far too many plants in their little apartment. If living in the modern day, they would almost certainly have a plant dedicated Instagram with the handle plantedparenthood (along with their instagrams for their shop, their personal day-to-day instagram, and of course their thirst trap/flirting insta)

They love wearing rings and typically wear multiple each day

Their birthday is June 5th, 1849, making them a Gemini

[seancerpg]

Seance Private Event - March 2022 Topic: The Exorcism of Cora Edevane Led by: Carrington Bishop Trigger Warnings: Body horror, gore, disturbing imagery, injury, non-consensual themes, rats, vomiting

With: @vanexglorious​, @xcarringtonxbishopx​, @lucianriviera​, @kavi-fekim​, @mvsquerade​, @pollysheedy​, @theundertakcr​

Transcript below the cut. The following has undergone minor edits for clarity and continuity’s sake.

Keep reading

[kavi-fekim]

Closed to @lucianriviera & @vanexglorious​

It was not often that Kavi let their true emotion read on their face, especially when it was a serious one, something soft and vulnerable. They hid those parts of themselves away from the world, one more layer of armor to protect the life they had created. But as the exorcism drew on, they could not keep the concern from their face. When Cora first began to cry out, it took everything Kavi had not to break the circle to be by her side. Their knees kept twitching, watching to break free. And then the wailing had begun, the movements that were not human, the loud undeniable snap. 

Their stomach churned and more than once, their eyes flicked directly across the circle towards Lucian, praying he would be looking back, that they could find some comfort or strength there. They want nothing more than to leave. Had it been anyone else in that chair, anyone in the world save Lucian, they likely would have. But it is Cora. So they stay. Even when the sounds of rats sends shivers of disgust up their spine as their hands grip the candle more firmly, wax dripping onto their hands and the handkerchief clutched in them. 

When at last it ends, they pause. A moment, two, three, to be sure it has passed, that it is over and it is safe, to catch their breath. Then the candle drops from their hands and they move to Cora’s side, kneeling beside her seat. Their hands shake as they fumble at the bindings keeping her in the chair and they curse when they cannot get them undone. Instead, they look at Lucian first, their eyes lingering, letting him, the one person they fully trust in the world, see the fear hidden behind dark eyes before trying to rid it from their face and looking up to Cora. 

“If you wanted our attention, you needed have gone to such lengths,” they try to make a joke, anything to ease the tension. “And I’m not sure the compass can be sold any longer.” They look at the artifact they had brought, somehow covered in a dark liquid they shuddered to think of. “But let’s get you home.”

[pollysheedy]

kavi-fekim​:

.

Their brow raises up, not sure if they’re more annoyed that the little waive has gotten an attitude or more impressed that they’ve stood up for themselves. Plus their answer is far more dramatic than they were fully anticipating, though it could be exaggerated. Besides, there was nothing saying that it wasn’t entirely their fault to have wound up on the wrong end of the knife. “Suppose that’s a reason at least. Carries some weight.”

“Acting is not Zoya’s only gift. She’s very talented at…seeing things that aren’t quite there yet.” It isn’t, oddly enough, an insult toward Polly, but an assessment of Zoya. Zoya had created a narrative for her life out of nothing. She had brought life to Kavi’s then fledging forging business and given them the chance to hone abilities they hadn’t even been sure would be possible for them. If she was doing the same with Polly’s tailoring… well maybe the child wasn’t useless after all. It would be worth seeing what they were able to do in return for their owed debts.

“It’s a type of Indian suit jacket. Formal, often made of fine fabrics with ornate buttons. Much more interesting than the English styles” The community they had been raised in the first few years of their life was rich with those that shared their father’s heritages. They still enjoyed the color and dress of the Indian culture. Anything that reminded of the home they had not seen in decades was always welcomed. 

They looked at her with an expression that almost read as impressed. If they were going to start with making it from their own fabrics, that meant money from their own pocket, rather than Kavi’s. It was a strike of initiative and good well that gained them just an inch of favorability with the shopkeeper. “I’ll get the pattern for you then,” they said, their tone less excited. That would mean writing or visiting their parents, something they typically avoided. Perhaps Daya would have one or know where to get one, though she hardly seemed the type to be making her own clothing, much less making them for her brother. “I’ll have it sent to you once I obtain it.”

.

So this is what their near death experience counted for - something that holds only a bit of weight as a bargaining tool. But then, if they don’t want to share their story with them (and they don’t, because there would be nothing stopping them keeping it discretionary, the way they trusted everyone else who knew about what had happened. Kavi could easily tell all of Whitechapel, and with their dislike for Polly worn so openly, they aren’t sure that was far off what they would do. They aren’t ready for that, and so they hum, and say nothing. 

“Yes. I owe her a lot.” More than anybody who is not Polly, Zoya, or Rahat will ever know. They do not elaborate on how they’ve come to see her as family, as the mother they’ve never had. “You know her, then.” It is a statement of fact rather than a question. They have long since stopped being surprised about how many people Zoya seems to know, how many lives she’s created a place for herself in. Her name occurs in the most surprising of places, and each time it pops up, it gives Polly a little strength with it, like a friendly wave from across the street. 

They nod their assent to the plan. They’d made jackets before. As long as it isn’t so dramatically different, they don’t think it will be difficult. Their mind is already alight with ideas, the fabrics they have at home to practice on, what type of buttons they will use, a faraway look in their eye a sign that they are no longer focussed on this conversation. “I wrote my address at the bottom of the list. You can have the pattern sent there. Give me a week, and then if you like what I do, we can talk about what to do with that silk.” They’re confident they can work with it, but the unfamiliar garment is the only thing that gives them pause. They want to practice before going in with the expensive stuff, but they are not unconfident in their abilities. 

“That’s it, then,” they pick up their now-empty satchel, and move to leave, but pause before they go. “Um, one more thing, actually,” they sound a bit more uncertain, now. “I just wanted to thank you for listening to me, and being so accommodating. You didn’t have to be, but you were. I appreciate the chance.” They nod, and with that, exited the shop, bell ringing in their wake. 

[kavi-fekim]

END.

[imdancingintherain07]

[kavi-fekim]

mvsquerade​:

“Strange,” Zoya replies, bemused. Lucian has no reason to lie to Kavi, nor does he seem to make a habit out of it. “Did it look like a break-in or just as if someone had come in to mess everything up?” Her gaze drifts about the shop more. It doesn’t look like anything valuable had been taken, either—she supposes Kavi might be in a fouler mood if that was the case. 

Not that it’s her mystery to solve. Her attention turns back to the lovely item that will soon be hers, and her eyes glimmer with amusement as Kavi explains its origins.“How could I think such a thing? Oh, no, I would never think you so disreputable,” she replies, feigning offense. “I bet he paid a pretty price for what he thought were real diamonds. He only has himself to blame for that.” She shrugs, hardly sympathetic for those duped by fake certificates and silver-tongued merchants. Money, it seems, can’t always buy sense. And who is she to protest? For every man falling for her cultivated charm and for every customer purchasing an antique brooch said to have belonged to an Italian duchess, she and Kavi reap the rewards. 

Taking the egg from their hands, she turns it over, jewels winking in the light. “Maybe I am.” She smiles at them. “What’s your price? Don’t rip me off. I’ll know if you do.”

.

“No, no not a break in,” the thoughts only settle Kavi into a deeper suspicion. Nothing missing, no damage to their locks, no evidence of it except for the entirety of the store rearranged in a single night time. The whole thing only confounded them and Kavi wasn’t one used to being confused. They disliked not being in the know or intelligent and made good due diligence to prevent it from happening. “Nothing taken, so the police will certainly be of no help in the matter.” Not that they would have called them to the store if there had been. The police might poke too deeply into the workings of the shop which could only spell trouble.

They give a small shrug. “That or it is a man knowingly trying to play at being well above his actual station. Both are equally as likely. Either way, such a shame for such a precious item to be missing from a hypothetical man who most certainly does not exist.” Their grin widens their face as they enjoy diving deeper into the false charade that their business is purely operated in a legal sense.”

“Me? Now I would never charge an unfair price.” It wasn’t entirely true of course, but then everything had one price at the end of the day: the amount someone was willing to pay for it. They did their best to guess as high as they believed their customer would go. Zoya had a long history and was a frequent enough customer it was worth that their guesses came in a little low for her more often than not. “It depends on...how much history the item has.” So they listed their prices, a bit undervalue for only the egg itself, a bit overvalued for both item and documentation. “Remember darling, I did give you rather good prices on all those papers years ago.”

.

[kavi-fekim]

retribctions​:

Kavi appeared, with the ethereal sense that always followed them, and Toshiro dipped his head in greeting. That sense of not belonging faded when in Kavi’s presence, but it still lingered in the back of Toshiro’s mind. A chill at his shoulders, an ever-present reminder.

Today, he will pay it little attention.

“No, I didn’t see a particular group of tiny terrors. You think they were able to slip in without you knowing?” A small smile, but it disappeared in the next moment. His siblings could have been such tiny terrors, years before. Zoya and him were once too.

Clearing his throat, he shrugged. “I decided to visit as I was passing by. Wanted to see if there was anything new before my next job started.” He lifted his small box of tools for a moment, and then his gaze drifted around the shop. Any attempt at remembering what he saw last he was there seemed pointless.

“Alhough…” he began, slowly drifting as he started his travel within the shop. A beat of silence, then another. He flicked his gaze back to Kavi. “You could help me with something new–if you have the time.”

.

“It is possible,” they said, looking around at the shop as though it would open some hidden mouth and speak the answer. “Happened at nighttime after all, after I had gone home for the night. Everything was in place when I closed the shop. Things...rearranged when I came to open the next morning.” 

They left out all the parts that made it all the more confusing. No broken or damaged locks. No missing products. Not things rearranged, but everything. The kit they kept tucked away for falsifying documents that only a precious few even knew the existence of, thrown out on large display atop the counter. A the things, little and small, that had it making no sense to him, not even if executed by Lucian’s hoard of minions. 

The fence’s brows raised up, always one wanting to be in the know of London’s inner working. It paid to be informed and, though not their primary business, it was one Kavi paid deep attention to. “A new job? Anything interesting this time? Or are you going to withhold all the fun details and only tell me what sorts of things you’re in the market for?”

Their interest only raised further at the vague hint of opportunity thrown their way by Toshiro. They leaned against the counter, eyes roaming up and down the man for a moment. “And what kind of new thing do you have interest in? And not that I’m not capable, but why come to me for it?”

[kavi-fekim]

[kavi-fekim]

pollysheedy​:

If Polly was mildly panicked before, they’re irritated now, Kavi’s continued questioning poking them into sulky insolence. “And most of the time, personal means private,” they point out. More people knew of the attack and subsequent injury they had suffered than they would like anyway, and they didn’t trust that Kavi would keep their secrets. But they continue to push, and Polly’s temper continues to flare. “got on the wrong end of a knife,” they snap, impulsively. “Is that personal enough?” 

“It doesn’t mean anything apart from that I was hungry and desperate. All due respect,  but t isn’t for you to tell me what I am or am not meant for.” Reckoning with their past indiscretions meant staring it in the face, and while Polly is prepared to face some degree of judgement from Kavi, it does not mean they would stand there and take every disparaging comment they threw at them. There are only so many times you could let somebody talk down to you before they expected the right to do it always.

“Well, scratch the idea then. I just thought I’d offer.” They were starting to regret coming here, and raise their hands to rub their eyes tiredly. Kavi circles them, vulture like, and Polly nods their head. “I’m very lucky that she sees something in me,” they agree. “But she can vouch for me if you don’t believe in my capabilities.” Once they had something Polly had made in their hands, they’d know, but for now, they only had their word to go on - and even Polly had to admit that this wasn’t worth much. 

“A bandhgala?” Polly repeats, no recognition of the word evident in their face. “I don’t know what that is, but I can try. You get me the pattern, I’ll make it with my own fabric, and if that’s to your liking, I’ll redo it in silk.” It would save them wasting the fabric if it proved difficult to make, at least, though it would be double the work for Polly. 

.

Their brow raises up, not sure if they’re more annoyed that the little waive has gotten an attitude or more impressed that they’ve stood up for themselves. Plus their answer is far more dramatic than they were fully anticipating, though it could be exaggerated. Besides, there was nothing saying that it wasn’t entirely their fault to have wound up on the wrong end of the knife. “Suppose that’s a reason at least. Carries some weight.”

“Acting is not Zoya’s only gift. She’s very talented at...seeing things that aren’t quite there yet.” It isn’t, oddly enough, an insult toward Polly, but an assessment of Zoya. Zoya had created a narrative for her life out of nothing. She had brought life to Kavi’s then fledging forging business and given them the chance to hone abilities they hadn’t even been sure would be possible for them. If she was doing the same with Polly’s tailoring... well maybe the child wasn’t useless after all. It would be worth seeing what they were able to do in return for their owed debts.

“It’s a type of Indian suit jacket. Formal, often made of fine fabrics with ornate buttons. Much more interesting than the English styles” The community they had been raised in the first few years of their life was rich with those that shared their father’s heritages. They still enjoyed the color and dress of the Indian culture. Anything that reminded of the home they had not seen in decades was always welcomed. 

They looked at her with an expression that almost read as impressed. If they were going to start with making it from their own fabrics, that meant money from their own pocket, rather than Kavi’s. It was a strike of initiative and good well that gained them just an inch of favorability with the shopkeeper. “I’ll get the pattern for you then,” they said, their tone less excited. That would mean writing or visiting their parents, something they typically avoided. Perhaps Daya would have one or know where to get one, though she hardly seemed the type to be making her own clothing, much less making them for her brother. “I’ll have it sent to you once I obtain it.”

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @kavi-fekim​ magdalena’s home, after her latest seance has concluded

Magdalena watched the patrons as they rose from the table. Some were blissfully unburdened, their faces smooth with comfort and their steps unhurried as they departed, while the rest buckled under mounds of fear and heaps of trepidation, expressions drawn and eyes tear-threatened as they made their exit in desperate haste. As in every seance and private session, Magdalena was left in a state of equals parts numbness and investment; her heart aching for those who were troubled by her insights while her mind simultaneously flicked through all the oddities and mysteries of the concluded seance with its ever-unquenchable curiosity.

It took her a long moment to center herself, still seated at the table as she counted her measured breaths in accordance with her usual breathing exercise. Once her thoughts settled and her heart grew calm, she rose to her feet, eyeing the lounge that her practice room opened into while she set her chair in place, along with any others that were left neglected. She had dedicated this lounge to any patrons who might seek comfort in lingering around after their session for a pleasant drink and a more casual conversation.

It had been a gamble, and quite an uncertain one at that, considering her discomfort at the thought of strangers lingering in her home longer than necessary. However, it had paid off; aside from a few unsettling encounters, such as when someone had snuck up to the second floor for reasons unknown and when another had attempted to rob her, the relaxing setting appealed to many of her patrons. Aside from that, Magdalena had applied measures of safety; hiring someone to act as security until all the sessions of the day were concluded, and another to serve those who occupied the lounge so she wouldn’t be completely alone with everyone. So all in all, the gamble had been rather fruitful.

The seance was her last for the day and it was well into the evening by now, so only three people were currently in the lounge. Among them was none other than the illustrious Kavi Fekim, whom Magdalena instantly recognized. Closing the doors of the practice room behind her, she stepped into the lounge and approached them, gesturing to the server in a request for drinks. “For all your visits, it’s always in this room that I encounter you, not the other,” She mused as stood beside them, lips curled in an inquisitive, subtly playful smile. “Do you generally opt against partaking in seances or is it only in my case that you prefer to spectate? I’ve been wondering about that for quite a while.”

[kavi-fekim]

.

When it came to spiritualism and seances and matters of the occult, there was no where better to see or be seen than at one of Magdalena Clarke’s events. Kavi, with their interest of the bizarre and--what others called macabre, but they called fascinating, had found their way there quickly as her home gained a powerful reputation. It never hurt to have connections to those one top. Especially in fields of your own interest.

This was far from Kavi’s first seance at Miss Clarke’s and certainly would not be the last of them. They enjoyed the environment, the show, the spectacle. While others came seeking answers or hoping for comfort or connection to some long lost loved one, Kavi gave for purely self-indulgent reasons. They were there for enjoyment. To watch a well put together show, to be taken on a ride of questioning whether or not the spirits and ability to speak to the dead were real. They were prone to believing they weren’t and had strong suspicion, if not confirmation that many of the ‘best’ mediums around were frauds, but that didn’t keep them from having a good time. It was about the feel. The energy. The look. Something to drink in and absorb like alcohol.

At times, they enjoyed the environment enough to not even sit at the tables, only to sit back and watch others have their fortunes told. It was just as fun to be a spectator as it was a participant. Sometimes more so. That was exactly what they were doing this evening, leaned back casually on a seat, drink in hand, as Magdalena herself came out to great them. They sat up a bit as she approached. The evening’s shows were over anyway and it was always interesting to watch the participants afterwards and see how they were affected. 

"Oh, nothing against it really. Well other than the able doesn’t tend to have any alcohol at it,” they gave her a casual wink as they sipped from their wine glass. “I just don’t have much talking with the dead I need to have done. So why take away the space from someone who does?” Their tone oozed generosity, perhaps a bit too much so. The good-will of their own heart was far from the reason they had stayed away from the table. “Besides, I’ve joined in plenty of times. If the spirits have a message for me, they would have found a way to send it by now I’d think. Just as interesting to watch others have their wishes fulfilled.”

[fraudest]

who: @kavi-fekim​ where: after a seance. when: march. 

“you’re staring.” they might have said more. they might have tried to smooth over the bumps and bruises of their last seance, so stilted compared the effortless flair of the spiritualists’s own. they might have smiled, charmed; they might have turned away too, flush with excitement or embarrassment or both. jane did none of these things, their exhaustion climbing and their patience with themself worn thin. so they approach the individual they have seen more than once, and they do not say, your eyes tell a story i am afraid to know. 

[kavi-fekim]

. 

The night’s seance wawas not as smooth as many Kavi had attending; a disappointment when they attended them more for the spectacle than hoping to get anything out of them. They were an event, something all the rage in London, and so, naturally, Kavi had to be seen at them. They had spent too much of life on the outskirts and had no intention of missing any of it now that they had the means to partake. “You were off your game tonight,” Kavi says almost casually, tugging down the sleeves of their colorful shirt. “Something you didn’t like about tonight’s crowd? Or something else the problem. I’ve seen you manage better.” 

[kavi-fekim]

verdanium​:

bonnie’s mouth forms around the word in silence; badamaash. it sounds strange coming from kavi but stranger still in her head. she doesn’t dare speak it out loud for fear of butchering it altogether although her intentions are pure and she is nothing, if not a curious creature. “i’ve never heard you employ another language. are you fluent in it? i’m afraid my korean eludes me more often than not.”

languages, as beautiful as they are, are challenging in aspects that bonnie has a hard time grasping; despite the fact her mother always insisted on teaching her about her heritage, she often finds herself struggling to remember and connect it to the tongue she uses in her daily life. deciding to put that little bit of knowledge she has to good use, she pretends to be thoughtful, placing one finger on her chin before speaking with conviction. “이교도.”

“always take a compliment and run with it before the speaker can change their mind,” she teases, her smile widening. she’s pleased with the easygoing tone; the illusionist enjoys challenging discussions as much as the next person but for a change, it’s nice to be able to engage in a conversation that does not entail derision or flat out insults. she scrunches her nose in distaste when she thinks back to the last time she attended church only to be given a sermon by the priest instead. there’s nothing quite as embarrassing as being called a witch in front of others, despite the front she puts up to deal with it.

banishing the thought from her mind, she nods eagerly at kavi with the energy and enthusiasm of a young puppy let loose, her tongue peeking out between her teeth. “i suppose you would! but take heart, i would never trick you. it’s not the honorable thing to do — unless you leave me no choice, of course.”

for once, bonnie falls quiet; her blithe composure melts like morning dew as she looks up at the other with all the patience in the world. her features arrange themselves into a proper, attentive expression as she listens to what advice it is that they are offering. it is this that she has learned from earliest childhood on — always presume the other person knows something you don’t. in this case, kavi seems to have a better grasp of the situation than she does.

tentatively curling her fingers around the offered pepper, she nods slowly in understanding.

“rahat said the same. to isolate the plant, i mean. it’s an indoors garden. you know how it is — it’s hard to find the space in london for anything else,” she says, her last words laced with quiet sorrow. when their words sink in, she gives a faint, but sincere smile. “thank you. i’ll take the advice to heart.”

she looks around the stalls as kavi speaks, noticing an increase in people who seem to be going about their daily business in much the same manner. quirking a brow, she tilts her head at the other across from her in idle curiosity. “you fear competition?” it’s not something she ever considered before, but maybe that’s because she hasn’t take the time to see if there’s actually someone else in london who manages to be up to the task.

.

They laugh slightly. “I learned Hindi well before I learned English. It was one of my first languages,” they say, their mind wondering back over their childhood. “My father’s tongue. French, my mother’s.” They don’t offer any more explanation than that. Not many know of their immigration when they were only a child, of the rich country they left behind for a world that had had nothing to offer the family but a new language. 

Kavi’s eyes spark in clear interest when she mentions another language. “You can speak Korean? I have yet to learn any of it.” They said the word allowed a few times, tumbling it over their tongue until they can get it as similar to Bonnie’s pronunciation as possible. “Would you be willing to teach me? Even just that which you remember. A few of your favorite phrases or anything.”

They chuckle slightly at her. Though they have found their own corner of the long where they belong well and there are people at their side there, they don’t think any of them would really earn the term honorable. would be one used to describe them. It feels almost out of place to hear it said. “No, I suppose it would not be honorable. But it would be an easy way to earn coin. And with talent such as yours, who could really blame you for putting it to good use.” 

“Taking advice on how to keep things alive from an undertaker? Now there’s a new idea,” they smirk. “They are right though, at least when it comes to this. At the first sign of any trouble, it is always best to isolate a plant when you can. Otherwise you end up losing all of them and it simply isn’t worth the risk.” The way they shake their head shows this is a lesson they have learned from experience. They had their plants wiped out a few times and always sulked afterwards until they could find new plant life to brighten their home. 

“Fear? No not hardly,” they say shrugging the question off. They fought to keep their shop as high up in the London ranks as possible. It was the best they could possibly make it and they would be sure to know if there was every any rumblings of anyone who well and truly had an imposing threat. “But it is best to know the goings-on of one’s own business. See opportunities and take them. If you were walking down the street and saw someone preforming a magic act, would you not stop to see what of it the crowd enjoys and which pieces you might take for yourself?”

[kavi-fekim]

lucianriviera​:

“That makes sense I suppose.” As much any of this could make sense for someone trying very hard to wrap their head around the basics. Lucian was a quick study on the best of days but that didn’t mean it was always easy. A begrudging huff left the thief as he cast a side-long look in Kavi’s direction and had half a mind to make a rude gesture. “Remind me why I come to you for help again? I much rather the occasions you call me far more endearing things… usually when I’m doing that clever little trick with my tongue that makes your-” his smartass sentence was cut off with another mild look of annoyance at the pat of his cheek. 

While he knew Kavi meant well there was no helping the slight sting that came with the words and the action. If there was one thing Lucian had always loathed, it was having someone tell him he wasn’t clever or intelligent enough, it was an old wound that smarted to this day. But rather than burden himself by dwelling on the matter as he might have once done, instead he turned back to the book and matter at hand. 

Not looking up from the book he grunted quietly, “well, how about this. Teach me how to do all this” he waved at the papers in question “convincingly and in part I’ll lavish you in all that attention you deserve.” The Thief tried rather pointedly to ignore the bait set up by his friend regarding Cora frowning instead at the paper he studied rather intensely. “Cora never has nor will ever write to me in that regard. So you’re rather safe from having to ever help me with that - not that I would ever ask for your assistance in that regard anyway.”

Kavi’s request gave Lucian pause as he took a moment to close his eyes and imagine the route he walked and corresponding perspective that came with every visit he’d ever made to this establishment. Of course he recognised the patterns and the shapes that detailed the sign that swung outside, even if he never had understood what it actually said. He couldn’t recall the sound of each letter but the shapes were easy enough to pair up with the mental image he held, explaining the trail his finger took over the letters written in front of him. F-E-K-I-M-S “it’s your name. There’s also a strange symbol before the last letter?”

.

A smile lands on Kavi’s face for a moment, thinking about how much they certainly did enjoy the abilities of Lucian’s mouth that weren’t speaking. “Cruel of you to bring that up when you know that we need to be focused on other things, so I can’t simply take you off to bed. So very rude,” they shoot back teasingly. Truth be told, it would be a far better use of an evening in Kavi’s book. But Lucian has asked them for their help, something that does not happen too often, so, as they have for some years with Lucian, they will provide what assistance they’re able. Even if it is a bit inept and accompanied with a short temper for things that are too difficult for them to find ways to explain.

“Only in part? Then what else will bring the account paid in full. It has been a while since we have had a good evening with Cora and a bottle of wine. Why don’t you work your roguish charms to convince her for one? It really is the least you can do,” their tone is playful as they pull out a chair from the table, lounging back in it. It’s the kind of true relaxation that not many get to see from Kavi. Lucian and Cora, perhaps another one or two over the years who have since lost their favor. Their connections run wide throughout the bustling city, but few of them run particularly deep. Even here, they never give voice to just what the relationship means to them. At times, they even hesitate to admit it to themself. Allowing people close is only a vulnerability and they have played their cards strategically to build as safe a lifestyle as possible.

They look at him in a bit of surprise. “No? Oh please, then you are missing out. Dirty letters can be quite the thrill. And all the better to have to...revisit later if you know what I mean.” A smirk tugged their lips up one side of their face. “If not for that, then why the sudden interest in literacy? You’ve clearly never had need for it before. What has made you need for it now?”

Kavi tilts their head to the side, a bit surprised that he knew the answer so well so quickly. “Very good job. My surname to be precise. And this, is yours.” They lean in and take Lucian’s hand in their own, slowly trailing it over the letters of his last name. “And your first name,” he adds, tracing out L-U-C-I-A-N as well.” He look back at him. “The ‘strange symbol’ is called an apostrophe. Add it, followed by an s to the end of someone’s name and it shows ownership, that the thing belongs to them.” They pause for just a moment, looking at their old friend as if to evaluate them. “Any other words that you already know? Or are familiar enough with to spell out?”

[kavi-fekim]

governcr​:

At Kavi’s words, Jacob’s body goes rigid for a moment—he never knows what to do with this kind of attention. Not that it happens very often but when it does, it leaves him feeling quite helpless. Mot of the time he just doesn’t pay any attention and ignores it—the looks, the comments—but it’s difficult to do it now. “Uh—” Jacob struggles for an answer; he chuckles, a little nervous because he’s at such a loss of words. “Maybe—uh…maybe some other time,” he finally says, lifting his glass to his lips immediately after so he can swallow any rogue words threatening to come out along with the alcohol. He’s already rethinking what he’s just said, scolds himself for not saying a simple no. The truth—one that Jacob doesn’t really want to acknowledge—is that deep down, he probably wanted to say yes. But it’s difficult—it’s been like that ever since Fred and his sister and the mess Jacob made back then. 

“Well—I’d assume so. Don’t know a single thing about mistresses anyway. Would need a wife for that first and—” he lets the sentence trail off as he shrugs his shoulder. At this point, Jacob’s pretty certain of his reputation as a confirmed bachelor. Fathers in his circle have long stopped suggesting he ought to marry one of their daughters (most of them assumed that owning the pub made Jacob a fortune; forget it’s a place frequented by people on the wrong side of the law, he’s a business owner, that means something in their eyes, apparently); and then people who knew he was never going to marry in the first place have got used to Jacob being generally uninterested. He’s tempted to make a joke, something about how unsuitable for marriage he is, maybe something self-deprecating but that would just be digging himself into a deeper hole so he drops it. “I suppose most people I know can’t even afford a mistress. All they can do is a monthly visit to the brothel and that’s it. Or they don’t step out on their wives at all. Unheard of, isn’t it,” he says jokingly. 

“Alright, so maybe it isn’t pretty but it’s…I don’t know. Something,” he chuckles and takes another drink, warmth spreading across his chest. As much of a shady place the Britannia can be, it’s still something that Jacob’s proud of. Within reason; he’s painfully aware of how he got to where he is today—the mistakes he made and the losses they caused—but the pub is truly the only thing he’s got to show for himself, for his life. A proof that he isn’t wasting away, even though he is. “Not pretty then but—comfortable. Feels like home to me. To all of them,” he nods at the remaining patrons sat around the room; a small smile makes a quick appearance on his face before he downs the rest of his drink. He figures that’s enough for the night. His limbs feel heavy, but comfortably so, his body’s warm and he’s almost tempted to believe that tonight’s sleep will be a peaceful one.

“Well, that makes us different. I have nothing better to do than spend my whole day in here,” Jake replies; the truth is that there isn’t a lot outside of running this place that he likes doing. He doesn’t need to leave to see people—usually people come to him because then they at least get a free drink with it. He doesn’t see his family anymore. He could probably not set foot outside the pub for a whole week and it wouldn’t feel like anything’s changed. It sounds sad, now that Jacob thinks about it. “Anyway, I’m not planning on letting Oriana go anytime soon. Might even start paying her more, now that you’re trying to steal my best worker from me. Why don’t you get Lucian to get you some help. Got a whole gang of ‘em, doesn’t he. There must be someone old enough to know how to handle the store.”

.

Kavi smirks to themselves, letting out a soft chuckle into their drink as they take another sip. It wasn’t an outright no and the reaction was less harsh than some Kavi had faced before. It was enough at least for them to believe their suspicions were likely right. At the least his response hadn’t hurt Kavi’s pride. “Well,” they said with a casual smile, not letting any of their intensity drop, “you always know where to find me when you change your mind. The offer will always stand.” Their words were chosen with intent--when not if.

“I suppose that’s true,” Kavi says leaning back in their chair a moment. What they did know about mistresses came more from those where Kavi had led people astray of their relationships. It wasn’t their responsibility to ensure the faithfulness of other people. The notion of marriage as a whole has always been an absurdity to Kavi. They have never had any interest in it. Few have bothered to press him in the matter, but those that did were swiftly rejected and more often than not, ties cut from them. “I have never understood the need to tie yourself to one person. Why limit yourself to only one person when the whole world can be at your disposal?” They snorted into their drink as Jacob continued. “Once a month? What a sad life indeed. I suppose I would certainly be saving for another trip to the brothel than a desk myself.”

There was a moment of seriousness that came over Kavi then. They understood what he meant. To most, their shop was an over cluttered mess of indecipherable objects. To Kavi, it was a blanket that had been warmed by the fire on a cold night. It was where they could breath. The way most people spoke of home was how Kavi felt about their shop. Not even their actual apartment was a place as relaxing. It was all the more reason the sudden invasion that had led to the shop’s reorganization felt like such a personal affront. “As long as it is home to someone, then it has served its purpose I suppose. Though I’m not sure how much you would want it to be a home to them,” they say casting their eyes out at the other, people they would guess warm the seats a bit too often for a bit too long.

That, at least, bring a full laugh to their lips. “Well darling if that’s the truth, then we really do need to find you something more interesting to do with your life. Maybe you do need Oriana more than I do,” they teased. They still had no intent on giving up their attempts to have the girl work at their shop, but perhaps the matter could be tabled for at least tonight. “Oh don’t tell me you count yourself in the leagues of men who only get to Cora’s once a month. If nothing else, tell me at least that part of your life is more interesting than all this.” When he mentions Luican’s army of hellions, Kavi’s lip curls in distaste.  “Absolutely not. I’m not having those little leeches in my store. No. Absolutely not.” Their distain for the very thieving children who brought product in the door was clear in their tone. Besides, if they were thieves, could they really be trusted not to lift things off their shelves to help themselves? Kavi thought not.

[kavi-fekim]

pollysheedy​:

It’s a question Polly isn’t keen to answer, and that shows on their face. They had expected a grilling when they came here, and they have been uncomfortable previously, but this is the first time they’re thrown for a loop. They had always done things their own way, and it is only recently they’ve even begun to try and explain their motives to others - but they are people who care for them. Not somebody like Kavi, who, they suspect, will be unimpressed with anything that comes out of their mouth. “That’s personal,” they say, shortly, though they quickly conclude that this does little to help them plead their case. “I’ve… sort of been given a second chance, yeah? I don’t want to spend whatever is left of my life hurting people. That means righting past wrongs.” 

Kavi asks where they learned to write, and an eyebrow raises. “A friend taught me. Um, quite recently, actually. So sorry for any mistakes.” They knew their spelling and letter formation wasn’t a patch on others, who had been reading and writing for almost as long as they had been alive, but they had tried hard - just like they were doing now, putting their all into setting the balance between the two. “Sold or traded, for whatever I needed at the time. The silver bracelet,” they point to one of the items on the list. “Was actually stolen from me. I got mugged on Flower and Dean not long after I left here.” The words are presented matter-of-factly, with nothing in them to indicate Polly was asking for sympathy - they weren’t. Such was the way of the world, and the way of Whitechapel, and both they and Kavi knew that. 

“Not how it works out there,” they jerk their head to the door. “If I asked for more, I’d have a nice pair of cufflinks and nothing to eat.” If they had tried to sell things for Kavi’s prices, it wouldn’t have worked. “And I thought you might say that. But I thought I’d offer anyway. In case you wanted repayment faster than can be done with money alone.” Things were decent for Polly now - they had a decent income, a decent life, and a certain standard to uphold nowadays. They couldn’t physically hand over every penny they earned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t arrange some sort of plan. 

“I thought you sold all sorts,” they shrug, their tone a little too innocent. They were aware of Kavi’s reputation - though theirs was hardly any better. That’s why they were here, after all. “Of course I can.” They watch them study the stitching, and for the first time since they waked through the door, a sort of confidence settles over Polly. This, they know they can do, no matter how much doubt anybody tried to cast. “Zoya Fox. I’ve been making some clothes for her. If you wanted to check, she can vouch for the fact I know how to stitch silks. Or if you’ve a silk handkerchief you don’t mind losing, I can show you.” 

. 

“Most everything is personal these days,” Kavi says with a slight roll of the eyes. They were skeptical at best that Polly was truly looking to turn a new leaf. Or perhaps they were, but it wouldn’t last long. Kavi had seen enough people over the years cry that they had found their new savior only to fall back into their old life enough times. “A second chance?” Kavi asked with an arched brow. That certainly did sound dramatic and they did love a good story, “am I to assume that that is personal as well?”

Kavi understood too well how things worked on the streets. It was where they had first started peddling their wares. It had taken time to grow the shop up to what it was now and being able to charge the prices they did. "Yes, well that doesn’t mean you didn’t get a poor deal,” that felt a bit too human, let Polly within arms reach where Kavi didn’t want them, so they continued, “though it does mean you aren’t meant for sales which is only another reason not to hire you. If you think people don’t think they can bargain even inside shop walls, you’re much mistaken.”

“I do sell all sorts. Emphasis on sell. No one comes to a furniture and antiques shop for clothing and therefore it does not sell.” Their interest was raised a bit more as Polly listed their resume, that much wasn’t deniable. A look of interest crossed their face as they slowly made a circle around Polly, further inspecting their dress. “Zoya Fox. Well that certainly is a notable name to have as a client.” Kavi did not mention that Zoya could not have made the name for herself (in the most literal of ways) without his assistance. Still, there were certain expectations needed for clothing to be passable of someone assuming Zoya’s new life. She wouldn’t be caught in something that wasn’t done well.

“I’ve recently obtained a few yards of silk,” conveniently left out was the fact that it had come as a (surely stolen) gift from Lucian, “I’ve been meaning to have a  Bandhgala made from it. I could obtain a pattern if you’re unaware on how to make them. If I give you the silk and you make one for me, we’ll see what items can be removed from your list.”

[distractedbymorality-archive]

[kavi-fekim]

There's a chip on my shoulder // And it's big as a boulder // With the chance I've been given // I'm gonna be driven as hell

[kavi-fekim]