[ ϟ ]—–Above the door the bell gives a single, bright chime, a sound small enough to be devoured by the hum of the city outside. Yet te presence that crosses the threshold is anything but small; it drags the scent of rain and ozone it is wake, that faint shimmer of air that clings when lightning has passed a sliver too near.
The god does not belong in a place like this, among mysterious smoke and soft-voiced promises; thunderer fills the narrow shop as though he might bend its frame by accident, broad and imposing. Gaze roams calmly and curiously over velvet drapes and tarnished mirrors, noting decks of cards worn thin by the touch of seekers, until it finds and settles on the woman.
' Madam Calderu,' and greeting comes with tone and gravity he believes a title should have, a faint incline of head accompanying the words. A brief, utterly short moment there is hesitation, studying her with interest, ceruleans void of the awe mortals might offer.
' I have come seeking counsel, though perhaps not the kind you are used to give.'
Moving closer there is a measured control of steps, the air around the broad frame becoming almost humid.
' I am told your readings find truth in those who no longer believe in it,' and the faintest glint of mirth edges around the deep bass. ' If you would both honor and indulge me with your insights, I would be very grateful.'
It is not quite a challenge, more an invitation, a test of what kind of Seidr this woman truly kept, and whether she might see the measure of him beyond appearance.
