"By the Ancestors, Ret! Be careful!" Zaramay hissed, jumping back as the big, black feline knocks over her mug; which knocked into the container holding her runes and cards, scattering all. Grumbling to herself, Zaramay bent down to gather her scrying tools, only to yank back her hands as if they were burned. "I didn't ask anything..of..." her voice tapered off, her sea-green eyes widened in annoyance, and fear. She crouched down, waiving her hand over the mixed runes and cards; a faraway look entered her eyes, and her voice echoed through out the small grotto, "A man, who deals in the darkest of magics and with those that are hazy in the Fates' eyes..." the sensation of a rough tongue, moving across her cheek, has Zaramay regaining her senses. She blinked a few times, and glanced over at her feline companion, "The Fates have shown our next path".
Several days later, Zaramay stood in front of a door, the runes burning in her hand as she tried to see away that she could walk away; the aura rolling off this place, had her sick to her stomach. With a sigh of resignation, she raised a trembling hand, and knocked on the door.