"No ma'am. Thank you for your valuable time." She bows her head and steps away.

Wheeeere is Lily.

Lily is waiting patiently at a marked line on the floor some three strides away, which she does not appear to be able to pass. She is, in fact, leaning against thin air.

The solicitor is there too.

"Hey, what rank did you get?"

"Next!"

Lily steps over the line and goes to see the doll.

"Two and a half. Identify."

One day she will need mana and she will have none because she spent it all on Identifies, and it will have been entirely worth it for those little packets of dopamine and insight.

Leanan Havina. Rank two. Hopeful to the Frivolous Sorority of Hêlak. 

I thought your name started with an 'm', she doesn't say, because that is slightly more cruel than she would like this persona to be. She has a habit of assuming a different identity for each person she interacts with, warping around their features like cloth. But maybe she should, given recent developments, look for a way to stop that.

She tilts her head, lips set in an 'o'. "Who's Hêlak?"

"... Iiiiiiii should go."

The witch turns and walks back out the doors the way she came.

That is a pinge of guilt.

Look upon it well, for it is a hostile worm. Fix it under your shoe and crush it. It is too lowly to ever make effect on something like your heart.

The wall of air looks fun. She leans on it and watches Lily and the doll interact.

And right, she can wear her armor here. At some point she is going to need to wash it or polish it or — put it in the laundry? — but that day is not today. It comes over her as simply as putting on a fresh t-shirt, rippling out in a wave of plates to supplant the reality of her other clothes.

Lily burns her sheets and comes back to Marianne.

Five and three, she Sends. 

Aloud: "What happened to Mio?"

Same as me? Gosh, she returns.

"I identified her and she fled. I asked the counterdoll if it was rude first and she said only a bit!"

"Huh. Weird."

Lily checks her phone. "Still no messages. Do you want to do some more sightseeing? Browse the market?"

"Yeah! Wandering around cluelessly tends to be surprisingly educational. Follow what catches your eye and I will follow you."

"I think I'll focus on the practicalities first. Let's go check out that market."

She heads back out the doors and down the stairs, stopping just at the edge of the crowd. 

As the market moves back from the square, it becomes quite crowded, barely more than standing room.

Lily offers her hand to Marianne. 

"So we don't get separated."

She rests her chin on Isabel's shoulder. "I want to be your knight though. Knights don't hold hands."

She lifts from the position to stand straight: one arm folded 'cross her chest and one hand on her charge's shoulder.

Lily smiles and ducks her head. "As you wish."

And she steps forwards into the market. 

The market bustles. About half the people in it are pretty women of various species and ethnicity; the other half are undead, either skeletonized or with well-preserved flesh that nonetheless looks distinctly sickly. Men are more common among the undead.

The first small stall they pass on their right is a layout of leather goods with runes embossed, ranging from simple bracelets to leather purses, wallets and jackets. The bottom end of the selection offers luck, contraception, and warding bracelets for 49₭ each. For 449₭ you can get a leather purse or jacket that reduces the weight of its contents to 1/10th, or more expensive warding bracelets which include a ward against infectious diseases. For 6,999₭ you can get a leather circlet or pendant that speeds the rate you learn mundane skills dramatically, or still more warding bracelets of higher quality. The proprietor, a dark-skinned witch, is currently haggling over a purse.

The stall on their left sells firearms, both mortal and modified; unenchanted pistols go for 39₭, while cheap spelled ammunition goes for 2₭ per shell, or 35₭ for a 20-round magazine all spelled with the same effect. There's a glass case of more heavily-enchanted ammunition, ranging from 99₭ a bullet to over 5,000₭ per. An apparently ordinary rifle hangs behind the desk with a tag on it; "Lockheart Schism relic; Inquire for pricing." The proprietor wears a cowl that hides her eyes and a big smile. 

Further in, there's a stall selling five pound ingots of aluminum for one Kiss each, cubes of maple wood four inches on a side for a Kiss each, and small quartz gems for 2₭ each. There's also a small selection of more expensive materials - ebony, ivory, amber, petrified wood, fossils, fulgurite and platinum - at higher prices, each piece priced individually. The cheapest is a small piece of ebony wood priced at 100₭. Some of the quartz and more expensive materials are inset into rings, pendants or bracelets. The stall is manned by a ghostly woman and a golem under her direction.

Another stall sells caged mice for a Kiss each, and little gooey creatures in bottles for 99₭; there's a sign saying sheep and goats are available for order, 25₭ each, and cattle for 250₭. It also has a selection of spices, vegetables and fruit, cheap potions for 12₭ each, and various cheap snack foods including chips and pop for mortal money. The proprietor is the skeleton in a suit from earlier - apparently he was coming back from business elsewhere. 

The last stall that Lily and Marianne can see on this edge of the market is some kind of street food stall, with large signage in Chinese or possibly Japanese. Asian-looking witches are sitting at a high bar eating as the crowd bustles around them; there are large signs with pictures of what looks to be some kind of meat cutlet and rice cakes. The proprietor is a tall Asian man in a chef's coat, very much alive in a rare exception to the rest of the men in the crowd; he's cooking on a small grill that's powered by an open rift to somewhere that's very on fire.

Witches are hotter than mortals! Probably because they're richer with better healthcare. She finds this factoid slightly more upsetting than it probably warrants. She hasn't checked on the rationale behind the Masquerade yet, but it had better be fantastically fucking solid or like, not something witches have a say in.

Marianne hasn't checked on the cash in her wallet. She thinks it's like... $30 minus earlier's shopping. She could mint kisses while walking, but it involves staring off into space instead of looking at the COOL STUFF, which is unacceptable. She could summon demons off one of those public brass circles — much stronger ones than others are doing by the look of it — but then what?

She inspects the leather charms with fondness. The battle against the yearning to trace all the runes helps recoup earlier's identification mana: instant casting seems to have burnt a surprisingly large hole in her reservoirs.

She won't so much as look directly at the guns. Guns are for mortals!

Will the ghostly materials vendor let her stroke aaalllll the textures if she gives her a coquettish smile that emerges into a bouncy conspiratorial grin?

Marianne takes a few moments of glassy-eyed staring to render her brain unoffended by the animals obviously meant for sacrifice: mortal science also requires animal sacrifice, after all. She smiles politely at the supplier to cement her decision of how to feel on this matter, then identifies one of the bottled gooey creatures.

—to Marianne, the interests and attentions of Isabel Lillian Amber are of as much emotional note to her as literal actual genuine magic. Which seems deranged to her, but apparently that is how her priorities have settled, and changing that would be significant work indeed.

So she watches her friend and what her friend watches and what watches her friend.

Soul Jelly. Only about as intelligent as a cat, but suitable for use in necromancy as an animating spirit. 

The ghostly materials vendor seems unbothered by her petting the merchandise, and in fact flashes her a smile back. She drifts a little closer and watches Marianne pet the merchandise. She doesn't say anything; her face does fall a little when Marianne moves on.

Lily is totaling prices in her head, lingering over the cheaper items. She examines a few of the labels for the vials of potion, and nods to herself - she could make any of these herself, quite possibly with the materials actually sold at the shop - this is a witchy convenience store? That sells animals for sacrifice. Charming. She could theoretically eat live mice if she was desperate. She's not that desperate. 

Basic consumables go for about a Kiss each. Below a Kiss you get into mortal money. The Witch economy seems to be much richer than the mortal one - even one of these very basic potions sells for a hundred and twenty dollars, yikes - but it seems clear most witches are just willing to pay 12₭ on a daily basis without even really thinking about it too much. The prices for the more advanced items suggest that there's a lot of "up" to go even in relatively everyday things. She would love to be able to afford that circlet, but that's for much, much later.

The gun's label gets a second look too. The Lockheart Schism, huh? So witches have wars too. Not that that's surprising, but it's more information. 

The street food stall isn't for her, not anymore, but then she never liked Asian food anyway. 

Onward.