22 September 2012
Autumnal Equinox
Saturday @ 9pm
The haven of "M" the fortune-teller

Quill Som took a deep breath. Her shoulders rose and fell, and with all of her focus she tried to relax. She was a handsome witch in her 50s, dressed in comfortable loose layers. Her straight black hair fell past the shoulder. She'd taken off her shoes when she came in, leaving them by the door. This door had closed behind her on its own, and as the slice of light from the street narrowed and disappeared, she saw better the haven of the fortune-teller simply called "M".

"M is the real thing," she'd been told by her friend Torrence Early, who lived here in Slandermouth. Quill had not consulted the Department of Mysteries for her problem. She didn't quite trust anyone called an Unspeakable, not with matters of the heart, soul, or fate. Word would get around, she'd feel exposed.

In fact, she'd never felt more vulnerable, more unmoored and uncertain. It was everything she could do to hide her discomfort.

"Come in, won't you. Have the tea." The came from the wix coming out from behind the curtain, herding a green teapot and cups which were levitating. The only place to receive the tea was at a low wooden table in a recess up a few steps.

"Thank you," Quill replied and went to sit on the cushion on the floor, easily folding her legs beneath her. "I'm Quill. I owled."

"Of course you did, dove," M said. The tea poured itself. Quill took up her cup when M did and they drank together. It had a strange taste.

"Then you know what I'm here for."

"I do. It's written all over your face, you poor thing."

Quill frowned. "I did not come for pity."

"There is none here," M assured her. M's voice was hard to associate with gender or age or region. A hood and the dim light obscured M's features. Each time M spoke, Quill felt more unsure with her assumptions.

"Don't worry about that."

Quill lifted her eyebrows. "You're a Legilimens." It was not proper for a mind-reader to read without permission.

"Yes. I can see the door shut to me and to you. It is very heavy and closed very tightly. But it is not locked. Would you like to open it?"

"It ..." Quill started. I'm afraid, she couldn't say.

"All closed doors can be frightening. After all, they are always closed for reason. A door is meant to be closed."