(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

window shopping.
~~~~~
"Attention: Morte. I have a question. Do you have a destiny? A purpose?"
Nordom chirped.
"Is Annah still wearing clothes?"
"Affirmatory."
"Then the answer is yes."
I rolled my eyes and went back to examining the wares at the back of
Vrischika's curiosity shop. She was a damn skilled merchant. Knowing how
much stuff I buy she was always able to keep an eye on me to note my
interest and swoop in to explain the item's history and its price when it
came to a peak. All the while it would've been almost impossible to tell that
she was hovering.
I had been examining a tiny rag doll. The years had not been kind to it; it was
coming apart at the seams, and it looked like its threads were unraveling. It
was obviously intended to be a replica of the Lady of Pain, but the button
eyes and its plush softness didn't strike much fear into my heart.
Vrischicka smiled, noting the interest she aways pried from my eyes and
unlocked to case, pulling it out and holding it up for me. "This was found in a
well-trapped strongbox sunk deep beneath the surface of Sigil. It was part of
a small horde of treasure and forbidden magical texts, though I don't know
what it's for. If you like it, it's only ninety-nine copper coins."
The once-colorful cloth had been grayed with age and dust, and as I reached
out and touched it the barest hint of familiarity tingled through me.
"I'll take it."
As always, Annah kept her distance. "That's ill luck, it is," she muttered.
"'Rargh! I dare you to pray to me!'" I teased, wiggling the rag doll at Morte.
"The Lady doesn't talk, chief. And I don't think she'd sound like a giant toad
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