#chapter iv.

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @mvsquerade shopping district, downtown london

Her instinctive, gut-spurred response to Mr. Ashton’s invitation had been mistrust. Not only due to the elusive identity of the man and her utter inability to find out more about him, but also due to the sheer scope of the event he was hosting. Magdalena had been nothing short of surprised to witness the way the invitation had seemingly encompassed the entire stretch of the city, extending far and wide until it seemed to have arrived at the doors of nearly every single friend, acquaintance, and notable member of the community around her. All anyone could talk about these days was the upcoming Spring Equinox Ball; every street corner and pub huddle thrumming with discussion and anticipation in regards to the event.

It was somewhat unnerving; no such large-scale occasion could ever bode well, especially not when the spirit realm was teeming with unrest. Magdalena was not looking forward to it one bit. However, her doubt did not necessarily equate to a desire to disregard her invitation. Distrustful as she was, she was still far too curious to ever consider missing out on the opportunity to sink into the heart of the mystery and unravel it from within. The unique dress code certainly had its appeal, as well; a perk that Zoya had eagerly coaxed to the forefront of Magdalena’s thoughts, ushering her doubts to the back of her mind as firmly as she always did with reassuring words and the eager proposal of a shopping trip.

Intent on keeping them at bay, Magdalena directed her focus outward and raised her gaze to the shop windows once again, her hand steady upon the crook of Zoya’s elbow as the two of them strolled along. “I’m still so curious about the significance of the theme,” She stated conversationally, “I know you told me it’s likely that there isn’t any and that I’m reading into it too much, and maybe you’re right... “ She paused, eyeing Zoya meaningfully before easing into a playfully sharp smile. “But I still think you’re wrong.” She laughed, then continued on more thoughtfully once she sobered. “Way too much thought has been put into the organization of this event and the gathering of guests for the theme to be purely aesthetical. I mean, even if it’s not too important, it still has to mean something. The event as a whole certainly does.”

[spiritvalist]

OPPOSITE — @ruthleveen​ outside magdalena’s home, late at night

Magdalena exhaled, watching the curling wisps of smoke as they dissipated into nothingness, the elbow of one arm braced along the length of the other while she slouched, her posture leisurely and unguarded as she indulged in a cigarette. Her whole life, she had detested the habit of smoking, equally repelled by the distasteful smell it would smear upon her father’s skin and clothes as she had been saddened and frustrated by his rattling coughs and nonsensical refusal to quit.

Ironically enough, however, she had been quick to pick up the scorned habit herself following his death. It had been the only everlasting tether to his memory; unlike the clothes that inevitably lost their scent or the personal items that eventually withered or vanished in the wake of misplacement. When she smoked, she sustained the last self-resurrecting trace of him, and once she had realized that, the fickle tendency had quickly evolved into a stable habit -- a ritual of remembrance that kept his memory ever-present and ceaselessly burning, like a candle that never lost its flame once it was lit; not unless it was the huff of her own breath which breezed forth to snuff it out.

Sniffing against the sorrow that had wrenched her heart into its grasp, Magdalena took to appraising the still, quiet street. Captured as she was by such cold, callous loneliness, she felt as though she was indistinguishable from her surroundings; that a mere step past the threshold of her front yard would melt her into the despondent backdrop. Then a sudden light hollowed the darkness, snaring her attention and drawing her gaze to the familiar silhouette of a certain fiery-haired, fierce-spirited lamplighter. Magdalena watched her for a long moment, slowly blinking away the haze of her numbness before turning around and grabbing the blanket that lay on the front steps of her home. Approaching Ruth, she called, “Ruth,” She inclined her head to get a better look at the woman’s shadowed face, making sure that she wasn’t mistaken about the lamplighter’s identity. When their eyes met, Magdalena curved her mouth into a smile that took a lot more effort than it should have, extending her hand to offer Ruth the blanket. “You should take this. It’s a chilly night.”

[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 she 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.”