“So,” Vivienne began, falling into step beside Rava as they wove through the bustling streets, “we’re heading to the seamstress first?”
“She’s the closest on the list,” Rava replied, her eyes scanning the road ahead. “And her claim about a mannequin walking off is… odd, to say the least. Seems as good a place to start as any.”
Vivienne tilted her head, her quintet of eyes glimmering with mischief. “You know, I’ve been thinking—priorities and all—I really should work on making that wolf form I absorbed smaller.”
Rava raised an eyebrow. “Smaller? Why?”
Vivienne grinned, her teeth glinting as her voice took on a mock-serious tone. “So you can have a talking dog companion while we sleuth around. Very detective chic, don’t you think?”
Rava sighed, but the corner of her mouth quirked up despite herself. “And here I thought we were trying to stop a thief, not audition for a play.”
“Oh, this is all related, I assure you,” Vivienne said, waving a clawed hand dramatically. “On that note—hypothetically, of course—do you happen to enjoy relaxation drugs and have a weakness for large portions of food?”
Rava stopped mid-step and shot Vivienne a baffled look. “What in the world does that have to do with your forms?”
Vivienne’s face lit up, her wide grin earning a few nervous glances from passing pedestrians. “Definitely a Velma,” she declared, almost bouncing on her toes. “A tall, very buff Velma. With magic. A one-of-a-kind archetype!”
Rava pinched the bridge of her nose, a long sigh escaping her. “I don’t even know what a Velma is, but I’m pretty sure you’re out of your mind.”
“And yet, here we are, solving mysteries together,” Vivienne quipped, her tone light. “Fate works in mysterious ways.”
As the two rounded a corner, the street began to narrow, transitioning into a quieter part of the district. The bustle of merchants and shoppers faded into the occasional clatter of tools and faint hum of spinning wheels. The air smelled faintly of dye and fabric, and signs bearing needles, thread, and patterned cloth adorned several shopfronts.
“There,” Rava said, nodding towards a modest workshop with its shutters wide open, displaying an array of neatly crafted garments. A colourful sign above the door read Mira’s Stitchery.
The seamstress, Mira, was a lean, older lekine woman with silvery hair streaked with darker shades of grey. She stood behind the counter, carefully stitching a piece of fabric. At the sight of Rava and Vivienne, her ears perked up, and she waved them in with a warm, if slightly frazzled, smile.
“Well, if it isn’t Lady Ravanyr,” Mira greeted. “And… a friend?” Her curious eyes darted to Vivienne, lingering briefly on her claws and strange quintet of eyes before returning to Rava. Vivienne could taste the fear from this woman and it was palpable.
“A strange friend, yes.” Rava agreed. “We’re here to ask about your missing mannequin.”
Mira set down her work and gestured for them to step inside. “Oh, that strange business. I still don’t know what to make of it. Come in, and I’ll tell you what I can.”
The pair stepped inside the workshop, the smell of fabric, wood polish, and faintly floral dye hanging in the air. Bolts of cloth were neatly stacked against the walls, and partially finished garments hung on racks near a worktable cluttered with spools of thread, scissors, and measuring tools.
Mira leaned against the counter, folding her arms. “It’s been days now, and I still feel like I’m losing my mind over it,” she began, her voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve never had anything stolen before, let alone something like that. Who would even want an old mannequin?”
“Did you see it happen?” Rava asked, her tone calm but focused.
Mira shook her head. “No. I left the shop locked for the night, and when I came back in the morning, it was gone. No sign of a break-in, no broken windows, nothing. Just… gone.”
Vivienne tilted her head, her claws tapping idly against the edge of the counter. “You mentioned the mannequin was old. Was there anything special about it? Unusual material, a charm on it, maybe sentimental value?”
Mira frowned, her ears flicking back thoughtfully. “Nothing like that. It was made of plain wood and wrapped in cloth, well-used but sturdy. It was here when I opened this store. Not worth much to anyone but me, really—more practical than anything else. But...” She hesitated, glancing around as though afraid someone might overhear.
“But?” Rava pressed.
“Well,” Mira began slowly, “the night before it vanished, I could’ve sworn I heard something moving in the shop after I’d locked up. I thought it was just the wind rattling the windows, but now...” She trailed off, worry creasing her brow.
Vivienne’s expression sharpened, her quintet of eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. “You think it walked off on its own.”
Mira’s tail twitched uneasily. “I know how it sounds,” she said hurriedly, “but yes. I keep thinking back on that sound—wood creaking, like footsteps. And now, it’s all I can think about.”
Rava exchanged a glance with Vivienne, her scepticism tempered by curiosity. “Where was it last?”
Mira gestured towards the back of the shop. “I keep my mannequins in the storeroom when they’re not in use. It was the only one missing.”
“Mind if we take a look?” Vivienne asked, her tone surprisingly gentle.
Mira nodded and led them to the storeroom, a narrow space lined with shelves holding folded fabrics, tools, and sewing patterns. At the centre of the room was an empty spot where a mannequin had clearly stood for years—its absence marked by faint scratches on the wooden floor.
Vivienne crouched, running her claws over the marks. “No drag marks. If it left, it did so upright.”
Rava sniffed the air, her sharp senses picking up faint traces. “There’s a scent trail—wood and something faintly metallic.” She glanced at Vivienne. “Think it’s enchanted?”
“Possibly,” Vivienne replied, standing and brushing her claws off. “But why would someone enchant a mannequin, of all things? Seems like an odd choice for a thief.”
“Unless the thief didn’t know what they were stealing,” Rava mused.
“Or,” Vivienne added with a grin, “it’s our thief.”
Mira’s ears flattened as she stared at them. “You think my mannequin is out there stealing things?”
Vivienne’s grin softened as she waved a hand dismissively. “Right, obviously not. Mannequins don’t just decide to take a stroll. Maybe someone carted it off to sell or repurpose.”
Mira looked a little relieved. “That’s what I thought at first. But it doesn’t make sense—who would go through all that trouble for something so ordinary?”
“Could be someone desperate,” Rava said, her tone thoughtful as they stepped back into the shop’s main room. “Or someone using it for something we haven’t figured out yet.” She turned to Vivienne. “The scent trail leads out of here. Let’s follow it.”
“Onward we go!” Vivienne said brightly, brushing dust off her hands.
They thanked Mira and stepped back into the street, the bustle of the district contrasting with the quieter interior of the shop. Rava sniffed the air, her sharp senses picking up the faint metallic tang again.
“It heads this way,” she said, starting toward the edge of the market district.
As they walked, Vivienne kept her tone light. “So, what’s your theory, Detective Rava? A rival seamstress sabotaging Mira’s business? Or maybe a prankster who doesn’t know when to quit?”
“More likely someone enchanted the mannequin to avoid dragging it around,” Rava said, keeping her voice low. “Though that doesn’t explain why they’d steal from Mira in the first place.”
“An opportunist, maybe?” Vivienne suggested. “Someone saw it and figured they could use it for... something. Or someone enchanted it a long time ago, and now it’s acting up.”
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Rava’s ears flicked. “If it is enchanted, we’ll need to know why. And if it’s been tampered with recently, it might lead us to whoever’s behind the other thefts.”
The two fell into a steady pace, weaving through the thinning crowd. The trail led them toward quieter streets, where the sounds of the market faded into the background. The scent grew fainter as they moved, but Rava kept her focus, occasionally stopping to make sure they hadn’t lost it entirely.
“Do you think it’s tied to the other thefts?” Vivienne asked after a while.
“It’s possible,” Rava admitted. “But it’s too early to tell. If the thief is enchanting objects to do the work for them, that’s no small feat. We’re dealing with someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“And here I thought the worst we’d find was a hungry mannequin trying to buy fabric for itself,” Vivienne joked, her grin returning.
Rava shot her an exasperated look but said nothing, her focus returning to the trail.
Eventually, the scent led them to a small junction where several alleys branched off. Rava paused, scanning the ground for signs, while Vivienne tilted her head, her eyes catching subtle movements in the shadows.
“This way,” Rava said, pointing toward an alley that curved sharply out of sight.
Vivienne followed, her tone light but her posture alert. “You know, I might’ve been too quick to dismiss the whole ‘walking mannequin’ thing. Maybe Mira’s mannequin had bigger ambitions.”
“Bigger than being stolen?” Rava asked dryly.
“Bigger than being a mannequin,” Vivienne said with mock solemnity.
Rava didn’t dignify that with a response as they reached the end of the alley. It opened into a quieter area near the edge of the district, where the buildings were older and the air cooler.
Rava stopped suddenly, her nose twitching. “The scent splits here. Fainter, but heading in two directions.”
Vivienne closed her eyes briefly and inhaled, her expression sharpening. “There’s a strong taste of aether that way,” she said, raising one clawed hand to point. “It’s like... faint echoes. Something laced into the air.”
Rava glanced at the direction Vivienne indicated and nodded. “That’s the direction of the Daelric estate. The boy there—Fenrik—reported his hairpin stolen. If this parchment is accurate,” she tapped the map they’d marked earlier, “he’s one of the few who spotted the thief, albeit only briefly.”
Vivienne cocked her head, her dark eyes gleaming faintly. “Then it’s as good a lead as any. Aristocrats have a habit of noticing details if it suits them.”
“And exaggerating them if it doesn’t,” Rava muttered. “Still, we can’t ignore it. It’s close enough to check out.”
Vivienne grinned. “And the other trail?”
“Leads further out of the district,” Rava replied, sniffing again. “It’s weaker, likely older. But we’ll follow up on it if this one doesn’t pan out.”
“Priorities,” Vivienne said with mock solemnity. “Aristocrats first, mysterious alleyways later.”
Rava huffed but said nothing, already striding toward the Daelric estate.
The streets grew quieter as they walked, the bustle of the market district fading entirely. The cobblestones were well-kept here, the houses larger and adorned with carved stonework and wrought iron. The estate itself came into view after a short walk—a stately building surrounded by high hedges and a sturdy gate.
As they approached the gates of the estate, a guard stepped forward, dressed in a clean but practical uniform bearing the crest of the lesser family. His eyes briefly flicked to Vivienne, his posture stiffening, but then his gaze landed on Rava, and he inclined his head respectfully.
“Lady Ravanyr,” he said, his voice steady but deferential. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“We’re following up on a matter involving a missing hairpin and other... peculiarities,” Rava replied smoothly. “May we speak with the family?”
The guard hesitated, glancing toward the manor. “The family is currently hosting guests, but I believe the young master—Fenrik—should be available. Shall I inform him of your arrival?”
“Please do,” Rava said with a curt nod.
The guard stepped aside and signaled another to relay the message, leaving the group momentarily alone at the gate. Vivienne leaned toward Rava, her voice low and teasing.
“You command quite the presence. ‘Lady Ravanyr.’ Has a nice ring to it.”
Rava rolled her eyes but chose to remain silent, her expression as composed as ever. A moment later, the gates creaked open, revealing a stunning figure—a young woman, no older than twenty. Her long, jet-black hair tumbled down past her bare shoulders, glossy and wild, while her silk dress clung to her form in such a way that it left little to the imagination, despite her modest proportions. Her face was a masterwork of symmetry, sculpted as if by an artist’s hand, and her piercing orange eyes gleamed with an almost unnatural sharpness. She was, notably, as tall as Vivienne, and there was an undeniable symmetry between them, though the difference in their bearing was clear.
“Master Fenrik,” Rava greeted, her tone calm, her bow respectful.
The figure before her, effortlessly graceful, returned the bow, a sly smile curving her lips. “Lady Ravanyr,” Fenrik responded, her voice light but unmistakably male beneath the delicate layers. She straightened, meeting Rava’s gaze with an intensity that bordered on challenging. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“My companion and I are investigating a series of thefts in the city,” Rava began, her tone as cool and unreadable as ever. “We heard you lost a hairpin recently—and that you may have seen the thief?”
Fenrik’s eyes flicked toward Vivienne, and in that brief moment, her composed exterior cracked. Her gaze widened, and she gasped softly, her porcelain skin paling slightly. Before either of them could react, she let out an involuntary squeal, her graceful form stumbling backward as she scrambled to hide behind the gate. The swish of her silk dress was almost melodious in the sudden tension.
Vivienne’s grin only widened, her sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. She leaned lazily against the gate, exuding a relaxed confidence as she took in Fenrik’s flustered retreat. “Well, with how little reaction I was getting today, I was starting to miss this,” she teased, her voice smooth and lightly mocking, the sparkle of mischief dancing in her quintet of eyes.
Fenrik peeked out from behind the gate, her breathing still uneven as she tried to recover her composure. She hesitated, then offered a shaky smile, though the lingering wariness in her piercing orange eyes betrayed her discomfort. “I… Your friend is unique, Lady Ravanyr.” Her voice was a careful balance of curiosity and politeness, as though she hadn’t yet decided whether to laugh or stay cautious.
Vivienne tilted her head, her smile turning sly. “Oh, we’re not watching you, Lady Fenrik,” she said with a mockingly formal tone. “Just gathering information.”
Fenrik blinked in confusion, her brows knitting together. “Lady?”
Vivienne’s playful smirk faltered as she glanced at Rava, who was clearly amused. Realization struck Vivienne, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” she said with genuine surprise, her usual composure momentarily giving way.
Fenrik’s lips curved into a demure smile, though the faint shadow of unease in their expression lingered. “No offense taken, my lady. I like to keep people guessing.”
Rava couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “I’m learning so many of your weaknesses today, Viv.”
Fenrik leaned subtly closer to Rava, lowering their voice. “What… is she? I’ve never seen anyone like her before.”
Rava smirked, crossing her arms. “Unique. I’ll leave it at that.” Her tone was deliberately cryptic, and she gave Vivienne a sideways glance before continuing. “For now, we’d like to hear as many details as you can share, so we can locate your—” she paused, glancing at the parchment in her hand, “hairpin?”
Fenrik nodded, their expression softening slightly as they stepped out from behind the gate. “Yes. It was a gift from my father for my seventeenth birthday. It’s very dear to me.”
Rava’s expression softened just slightly, her tone remaining professional. “We’ll do what we can to recover it. Tell us everything you remember.”
Fenrik clasped her hands delicately in front of her, her sharp orange eyes thoughtful as she recounted the incident. “It happened late at night. I had been sitting in the garden, enjoying the moonlight. It was quiet, peaceful—until I heard footsteps.”
“Footsteps?” Rava echoed, leaning forward slightly. “Where?”
Fenrik gestured vaguely behind her, toward the shadowy edges of the estate. “Near the outer wall. At first, I thought it was one of the staff, but the sound was… off. Quick, deliberate, like someone moving with purpose. I turned to look, and that’s when I saw them.”
“The thief?” Vivienne interjected, her quintet of eyes glinting with interest.
“Yes. A figure cloaked in darkness. They were agile, almost unnaturally so, and their movements were fluid, like a shadow slipping through the air. I couldn’t make out much detail except—” Fenrik hesitated, her brows furrowing, “—red hair. It caught the moonlight for just a moment. Then they were gone.”
Rava’s lips tightened. “Red hair, that was on the report. Any other details? Build? Height?”
Fenrik shrugged. “They disappeared before I could get a good look at them. I think they weren’t too much taller than myself… Afterwards I realized my hairpin was missing. I hadn’t even felt it being taken. One moment it was there, and the next…”
“Gone,” Vivienne finished, her voice laced with intrigue. She tapped her claws rhythmically against the gatepost. “And you didn’t see their face?”
“No,” Fenrik said regretfully. “Just the hair. It all happened so quickly.”
Rava shifted her weight, her gaze focused. “Did you notice anything else? A sound, a scent—anything out of place?”
Fenrik frowned, thinking hard. “The air felt… strange. Like it was charged. And there was this faint hum, almost like whispering, though I couldn’t make out any words.”
Vivienne tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Magic. Sounds like an enchantment or a cloaking spell.”
“Possibly,” Rava agreed. She gave Fenrik a nod. “You’ve been very helpful. We’ll follow the trail and see what we can uncover.”
Fenrik dipped into a graceful bow. “Thank you, Lady Ravanyr. And… your friend.” Her orange eyes flicked to Vivienne, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation still lingering in her gaze.
Vivienne gave a mock bow, her smile mischievous. “Always happy to leave an impression.”
Rava rolled her eyes, gesturing for Vivienne to follow as they turned to leave the estate. The streets felt quieter now, the air heavier with the weight of their growing mystery.
“So, what do you make of it?” Rava asked after a moment, her tone measured and thoughtful.
Vivienne tapped her claws against her chin, her expression sharpening with a mix of intrigue and smug certainty. “The red hair’s consistent, and the weird magical vibes line up with what I was sensing earlier. This is definitely the mannequin. I’d bet everything I own on it.”
Rava arched a brow, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing her composed features. “Firstly, that’s absurd. Secondly, you don’t even own the dress you’re wearing. That wager holds about as much value as your theories.”
Vivienne squinted dramatically at her, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. “Oh, you’ll see. You’ll all see!”
Rava sighed, shaking her head as she resumed walking. “I’ve seen enough already.”