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 Posted: Tue Apr 03, 2007 9:34 pm
Your purchase post is on layaway.
Please deposit payment with 6.9% interest
to recieve your purchase post.
Thank You,
The Management
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Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2007 11:18 pm
EXCERPT FROM A LETTER
addressed to S. from one Sati Kuchhal
postmarked 4/19 by the Cyrus Postal OfficeThe print of the letter is a tiny and meticulous script;
the parchment is yellowed, cracked, and weather-worn,
having survived the long journey by ship
from Cyrus City to Tamil itself.
The letter reads as such: Sati Kuchhal -how on earth and the heavens you pull me unwillingly into so many of these ridiculous, horrifying ventures. I should have you know, S., that there was magic afoot- not afoot, but rampant! It makes me grit my teeth even to think of it now. I know you love the weather witches and their little sailing cantrips but this has only firmed my resolve. It is only a matter of time until someone gets hurt, and I will not have that in my company. Yes, S., my company. I know you're scowling; I can see it as clear as on the day I left Tamil. It is an unnecessary risk I am not eager to take.
I am rather pressed for time because of the inconvenience your little masquerade caused me, so I will keep the story short: there was a strange scented oil, like a drug or a potion. A most helpful woman told me it was called "Dark Carnival", and it smelled sickly-sweet, like the caramels you like so much. The smoke from the oil swirled as if alive, making little animated people and animals. I think I even saw an elephant, warped and vile. Many of the ladies there were charmed by the foul thing, but it gave me the creeps from the beginning. I retreated with Eduardo, the latest hired man from the bodyguard agency you recommended, to better ascertain what strange enchantments the tiny cup of oil might be casting, but could figure out nothing. So I approached.
The oil bubbled and swirled as if alive, but before I could determine its make and type a young hooligan burst from some unknown hiding place and started wreaking havoc, seizing a child and tearing through the masquerade. I suspect the oil's malevolence was completely his doing. I shan't detail his horrid exploits but suffice to say the child deserved what he got, which was more magic. A source yet unknown hexed the child and he fell unconscious.
I do hope you know I blame the entire affair on you, S.
Before that incident, we opened seventeen new accounts, roughly totaling seventeen hundred gold upfront. To be honest, I gave away about that much in my own store of jewels, but these nobles are sure to be repeat customers. One Lady Harsworth bought the Gaffer's Diamond you were so proud of; that alone should pay triple what I gave away. I hope you approve.
And kindly tell my mother that her dutiful daughter sends her love, but also could not take time out of her busy schedule to dance with bachelors like a debutante at an important, government-sponsored ball. She will be heartbroken, but do try to keep a straight face, S., or I swear I'll leave my business here behind and return for the sole purpose of ringing your miserable neck.
With dubious affection, your S-S Trading Company Affiliate,
Sati Kuchhal
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Posted: Wed May 16, 2007 3:39 pm
Lighting Prompt (Required to reach Lit Scent stage) You have just purchased an oil burner and a specific scented oil from the Solace Scents shop and you can't wait to light it! Now that you're home, it's time to find the perfect place to light that scent! However, strange things seem to happen when you do... particulary with the smoke...
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2007 2:45 am
Lalit squawked indignantly as Sati bustled through the courtyard, the peacock's feather's bristling and murder in his eyes. Not a strange state of mind for the old bird to be in- Lalit was notoriously ornery, territorial, and pretty much universally homicidal, but Sati was always the exception to the rule. "Shoo, you crazed beast," she said, waving the bag with her purchases absent-mindedly in Lalit's direction. The peacock attacked, dive-bombing the bag with all the force an aging ornamental bird could muster. Feathers and bits of brown paper flew through the air. Sati gritted her teeth. "Lalit," she said in a voice that could melt steel. This was not the voice of someone to be trifled with. This was Sati Kucchal: Businesswoman Extraordinaire About To Have You Hauled Off For Fraud. Lalit dove into the decorative bushes and squawked his complaints from there. Sati ignored him. There was work to be done in the storage room, and so Sati placed her burner there, clearing a rack of spices from the mantle and setting the burner in its place. She poured the oil with all the care of a priest performing a ritual, hands perfectly steady, exactly one measured ounce. Still, the tiniest drop of the stuff managed to splash out and hit her on the face. Swearing to the gods under her breath, she wiped it away crossly. At least it smelled divine. "Serpent's Kiss," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Always with the serpents. 'They're mystical, Sati! They're a sign of luck, Sati!' Better to stomp on their heads when they first cross your path then to leave them to bite." She drew a match from her silk bag and struck it on a gold bracelet, almost violently, and brought the match to the tealight. The second she lit the candle, the burner hissed like water on a hot pan. Sati stared, eyes wide. Water near the burner, that must be it, she reassured herself. The bottom of the glass cup must have been wet. She turned away to re-organize her stock, letting the oil fill the room with its sweet, spiced, relaxing scent. She only saw the smoke whirling and swaying like a cobra in a basket out of the corner of her eye. When she spun to examine it more closely, the smoke appeared perfectly normal, if a bit serpentine: a long tendril of rising smoke with a puff atop, which looked a bit too much like a snake's head for Sati's comfort. But when she turned again, there it was, a snake hypnotically swaying its head to and fro, flicking its tassled tail. She took off her monocle and stared at it. Still there. She polished the eyepiece and put it back in. Still there. It was just a coincidence, right? Just the way the smoke rose and settled from the high mantlepiece? That had to be it. Still, Sati made it a point to face away from the burner as she went about her work.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 2:06 pm
Awakening Prompt (required to reach Child stage) Having run into your last ounce of oil, you mournfully place it into it's burner and light it, letting the aroma spread throughout your home happily. ------ [For Those Who Want To RP Witnessing The Event]You leave for a moment, deciding you felt peckish after smelling something so wonderful, and grabbed a snack from your kitchen. When you return you witness something absolutely amazing. The end result of the incident being a child on the floor of the room. Describe the sight, and the reactions of both you and the child at the end of it all.------ [For Those Who Want To RP Finding The Child Only]Having remembered something you needed to do, you ran out of your home quickly, forgetting all about the burning oils inside. You return content, having completed your task only to find a small child wandering the halls of your home, leaving oily foot steps behind, leading to a cracked burner, and split candle wax. Describe your reaction, and how you deal with the oil tracking child.
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Posted: Mon Jun 18, 2007 5:00 pm
Awakening Prompt (required to reach Child stage) [For Those Who Want To RP Witnessing The Event]
You leave for a moment, deciding you felt peckish after smelling something so wonderful, and grabbed a snack from your kitchen. When you return you witness something absolutely amazing. The end result of the incident being a child on the floor of the room. Describe the sight, and the reactions of both you and the child at the end of it all.
It was a sort of ritual, now; she lit the scent and did her work, and to tell the truth, Sati felt all the better for it. She always was a hard worker, but with Serpent's Kiss wafting from the storeroom mantle she was paradoxically invigorated and relaxed.
She tutted as she eyed the bottle, pouring the very last ounce into the burner. Of course it splashed up at her, always the tiniest drop landing on her face and clothes while the burner itself remained pristine. She wiped it off her brow dourly. "If you didn't smell so good I'd have thrown you to the dogs long ago, you insolent thing," she hissed at the oil. The first tufts of smoke puffed right back at her menacingly, as if they were striking.
Sati rubbed at her eyes, replacing her monocle with a wince. "That isn't happening…I need coffee," she said, turning her chin up and ignoring the swatting, biting smoke.
The smoke followed her into the kitchen, like a lost, belligerent puppy. Sati poured herself a cup of the hottest, blackest coffee possible, imported from the desert and heavily flavored with cardamom. The smoke tried to get her attention in vain, nipping at her face and nose. Sati closed her eyes and breathed it in. When she opened them again the smoke was gone.
Savoring her little victory and clutching her fine china cup, Sati opened the store-room door, grabbing her clipboard and-- "OH GODS, WHAT IS THAT?"The serpent made of smoke had grown, filling the entire center of the room. Its undulations were slow and heavy now, and though it turned its head to eye Sati gloomily it made no move towards her. And then, with an abrupt ripping sound, the serpent's head split, peeling back like a molting snake's skin.
Sati craned her head to see ivory horns shredding through the smoke, followed by a head of red hair. Sati automatically reached for her monocle- no, it was still in place. She was seeing this. Still in shock, she took a sip of her coffee and too-calmly watched everything unfold.
The glass of the burner popped and cracked, and then there was another, larger ripping sound. This time the smoke-skin shed its entire length, splitting neatly down the middle and evaporating, leaving a child suspended in mid-air, dressed in simple hempen garb. His face was hidden, as he was clutching his arms protectively over his head, but Sati could see enough of him to note the child's claws and feathered tail. He drifted to the ground, landing crouched, and as he lowered his arms Sati saw his face for the first time, fangs bared in an impish grin.
Sati regained her senses as the child's green eyes snapped open. "Ah. A demon," she said flatly, and she splashed her scorching-hot coffee on the boy's face and neck."WAAAAGH what in the HELL, woman?" spat the boy, flailing his tail to regain his balance. "I'm clearly not a demon, you blind old bag!"Sati looked him over carefully. Curses, he seemed completely unharmed by the coffee. She made a mental note to make it hotter next time. Cautiously, Sati said, "Well, what are you, then, and why should I suffer to have you in my house?"The child leered, jerking his head towards the remnants of the burner. "That," he said, flicking his forked tongue. He hopped back onto his feet and was by Sati's side just as quickly, trailing oil. Now that he was close, Sati could smell the oil on him; Serpent's Kiss hung on the boy like a perfume, warm and soothing. "You'll get used to it," he said, patting her shoulder with fake empathy. "you'd better, you dumb cooze," he hissed under his breath.
Sati whapped him hard about the head, regaining poise as the snake-boy winced. "No swearing," she said, glaring away his retort.
They stared at each other for a few moments that felt like eternity, neither one giving in one iota. They both looked away at the same time, Sati straightening her hair and bracelets with great dignity, and the child angrily thrashing and punching at thin air.
This was going to be…a struggle, to say the least.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 7:04 pm
With no better concept of what to do, Sati led the oil-tracking boy into the kitchen. "Sit, please," said Sati impassively. The merchant had gone straight past efficient, tranquil business-mode and out the other side. Her calm was the kind that caused the monsoon, the silence preceding the gunshot...the foot lifting before it crushed the garden-snake's skull. The boy ignored her, wandering the room with his hands on his hips. There was a lustful glitter in his eyes as he surveyed the house's finery, as if he was taking a mental inventory: I want that, and that, and also that, and I could totally use a solid-gold two liter jug, thanks so much. Finally he rounded on a picture in a gilded frame on the wall, a ten-year-old daguerreotype of Sati's third sister Saraswati's wedding, the girl only sixteen years old. "Hey, was this you? Nah, can't be. She's a ********' catch," said the boy, leaning back on his tail nonchalantly. Sati's eye twitched. Oh good, he was precocious in his womanizing as well. "Sit, please," said Sati with a creaky smile, heavy coffee pot in her robot-stiff hand and her set of Ginsu knifes an arm's length away. The boy dropped into the nearest chair like a lead weight, a testament to his survival instinct if not his mental capacity. The room was silent for a long moment as Sati fiddled with her coffeepot and grinder. The Scent grumbled a bit, fiddling with the heavily-polished silverware laid out on the table and tugging on the lacy place settings. Finally, Sati reached for the bag of beans, pouring them through the grinder and cranking it absentmindedly. Huh, it really was quiet in here; she couldn't even hear the coffee grinding, but for the loud rush of her thoughts. Wait. The bag was empty. There Was No Coffee. Sati groaned and banged her fists heavily on the counter, startling the boy. "Hey-" he started. Sati spun on her heels and bent down to his eye-level, brow set sternly and voice deadly serious, and said in a near-whisper, "Listen, child, I am out of coffee and the nearest supply of the only good stuff on this godforsaken planet is half the globe away, so we're going to make this concise, shall we? I've not the most fleeting notion of who or what you are or whether I'm more tempted to call an exorcist or an exterminator. But! I do know that you are far too young to have such a foul mouth and if you swear in my presence one more time this day I shall cut your unholy tongue out of your mouth and brew it in this pot and drink it and I am not a kidding person this is a threat. Now you are going to tell me everything you know about who or what you are and I am going to take notes and nod and 'Hmmm,' at the appropriate times and then you and I are going to pretend that this entire conversation never happened."She straightened, clearing her throat. At least she had the dignity to look fairly sheepish at the child's shell-shocked grimace. Oh good gods, what was happening to her, brow-beating a child? But it was a testament to the boy's guts, if not his survival instinct, that he snapped back from Sati's tirade almost immediately, leaning his head on a clawed hand and smirking at her. Sati sighed and took a seat herself, flipping open an unused log book and digging a pen from her sleeve. "So. Your name, then, if you please."The boy's smirk dropped off his face, and he eyed her warily. "Ain't got one, woman," he said. Sati sighed again and rubbed at her temples; this was definitely going to give her a migraine. "You make everything difficult, don't you? Nagendra, then. You seem a Nagendra, if nothing else. Does that suit your tastes?" "...I like it," said Nagendra, with a small, toothy smile. Sati smiled back guardedly; he was beginning to remind her more of a horrifyingly impudent little brother than a demon. And then he took off, tearing through the townhouse with breakneck speed like it was the whole world and he only had today to see it. Sati thunked her head against the table.
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Posted: Thu Jun 21, 2007 7:05 pm
EXCERPT FROM A LETTER
addressed to S. from one Sati Kuchhal
postmarked 6/21 by the Cyrus Postal OfficeThe print of the letter is a tiny and meticulous script,
rendered highly illegible by numerous ink
splotches and wayward leaky-pen scribbles;
the parchment is yellowed, cracked, and weather-worn,
having survived the long journey by ship
from Cyrus City to Tamil itself.
The letter reads as such: Sati Kuchhal (illegible) –a new, unforseen addition, a child bearing the features and ma(nner?)...of a serpent. ...from whence he came, I have not a clue. I do find myself rather perturbed...oil called "Serpent's Kiss", which may explain the strange...magic yet again, I swear by all the gods I've had enough and yet this...like a moth to light. But I meander; it was from the oil that the child was seemingly birthed...shattered burner.
Oh drat, I've broken another pen.
I should probably mention that the boy is the cause of this letter's horrid state; this is my fourth (un-...-tempt at writing you, S., and I dare say it'll be the last. I am so very close to wringing his... but I believe that coming to blows would...more problems than he's already started. I beg you... (t)olerate the squalid state of this missive...hard enough time trying to cuff the impudent...but he is...tries to steal my things or loot the storerooms.
...huge and lumbering serpent not unlike the ones of myth...the oil and trailing from the smoke. Then it tore, with a...the tearing noise of a zipper...the creature's head and there he was. I was most cert-...a demon, so in my shock I threw my scalding coffee at his face. (Incidentally, that was the last of...fine Arabian coffee you were so kind to include for me in the last shipment, and this one would be obliged if you would send me more. Now. Soon.) He was unharmed, which did little to assuage my fears...a demon but I suppose I shall have to take his word for it as of now.
...must be incredibly tense, as yet again your esteemed colleague seems to have broken another godforsaken pen. ...relief imagining the pen to be the child's...or your very own neck instead. Somebody's neck is getting rung, is what I'm failing...stop the boy from hitting on preteen girls, for the love...all holy, or at least trying to pilfer...my...and the kitchen and the storeroom and the (pan)try the courtyard and everywhere...converted...storeroom into a bedroom not entirely unlike a hooker's boudoir or a harem room...NAGENDRA KNOCK IT OFF
Most sincerely, your S-S Trading Company Affiliate,
Sati Kucchal
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