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It's an ordinary, quiet night. The . . . patrons, or whatever they are, of the lab equipment shop downstairs, took off about forty-five minutes ago.
There's silence, mostly. You can only be out at night in Sothis if you have business. But there's some business. Every so often a party passes under Katie's window. Their conversation is mostly what Katie has become accustomed to thinking of as "focused", though occasionally some is just downright tense or revelrous.
Wind. Distant insects. Dogs.
Something shuffles downstairs.
And continues to shuffle.
"Are we good?" The voice is insistent, alto, and right underneath Katie. And it's female.
"Yes, fine". Higher. If Katie knows what female halflings sound like, it sounds like that.
The shuffling moves deeper into the shop. A glass clinks. Laughter starts, whispering at first, then merely hushed.
"Oh my god." A third voice.
"All this stuff is fake, you know. This and this and this used to be one bespoke fixture."
"Fuck."
Whoever it is is going through the merchandise.
Expensive, heavily regulated merchandise. Katie's parent have only been in Ulunat for two weeks, but she's picked up that the proprietors of this place have gone to a moderate effort to secure it against thieves.
<Message@(all-Outsider)>"I registered nothing unusual. However it happened, I'm sorry I failed y'all."</Message>
She can't imagine why anyone would bother staking them out. Like no-really-even-taking-a-step-back-and-asking-on-a-meta-level-she-can't-imagine-why. But she's not going to mention that to these lumps of clay [ affectionate ], who don't understand the concept of constant vigilance.
"I have no idea. I'm only a first level wizard, and my Wisdom isn't the best either. Tell me more about this fascinating new kind of undead." Good, good, keep them talking. God, she hopes they have body heat. God, she's so stupid, they're evil undead cultists and she's here hoping for not only sex but cuddles afterward.
"Ah, the normal way that would go is, you would get it explained it to you, willingly sacrificing your ignorance in exchange for the choice whether to become one of us or not. But you're more likely to adapt to a transformation your psyche hasn't already developed antibodies to, and if you sacrifice your ignorance and your will rejects the prospect, your psyche develops antibodies. So, you see, telling you about it probably makes it less likely that you'll survive the ritual!"
She could strangle Tazich right now. There is absolutely nothing she can say to that, but what the fuck.
With an air of grim finality—not so much authority, as resignation—she kneels and starts drawing circles in chalk on the floor.
She follows suit, only she takes pillows out of a bag of holding. Giant-ass pillows, red and all velvety. Pillow after pillow after pillow.
The little shit is irritating. She wants to gag her. But that would just obviate the whole pageant.
"Chelish, I take it?" Her voice is dry as sand and cold as an Arctic waste.
Meanwhile, people resume scouring the shelves, cataloguing them and murmuring to one another.
What came out of the packs appears to be . . . dishes. Some ceramic, some wooden, some metal. A couple people have matching sets, the rest mismatched.
"How dare you accuse me of such a thing. So like, why am I being picked for this? Whatever's going on here has to be expensive. Is it really a good idea to just use the first lady who walked in on your activities, rather than just killing me and getting someone better?"
"Actually, it's very cheap," says Teg, to whom it has occurred to bind Katie more securely to the plumbing. "At least the way we do it." Not to say they're the best at cutting costs, but you can do an Urgathoa ritual for way less than is popularly believed. Which is probably not an accident.
"So like, are those bowls and plates for my blood and viscera and whatnot?" God, vampire lady has really nice hair. And, y'know, a nice tummy. And tits.
"And other stuff. Mostly other stuff, I mean, come on. There's no fucking meat on it, it flies, it's basically a sparrow." She hears herself sound impatient and it pisses her off. They are now moving at like 30% efficiency towards snacks. Not the outsider's fault she fell through the roof though. "But, yeah, that's the special thing for tonight. That, besides all this—" she waves at the fertilizers, pesticides, growth potions, etc., and seemingly at the optical and biochemistry equipment too "—whatever use we can make of it acutely, that is." She turns back with an intense focus.