{Grimli}Lover of the Light(Amaranth/Niska)

It was not every day that Sigrid got a letter from a Stringfellow, but when she did she always found the request interesting.  They were one of her favorite providers of antique pieces, and the letter from Amaranth promised something interesting at least.  She wished to meet in a different place this time.  Grimli.  Sigrid was not very familiar with any of the places in London, but the younger girl had provided her detailed directions for how to get there.  She was surprised at the time though.  11pm was quite late for a shop to be open.  Hers would certainly be closed by then at least, and she would have time to eat dinner, change, and maybe even take her bird out for a bit.  That was convenient at least, and she had taken her time getting ready. 

It would be warmer surly in England, but Sigrid still pulled on a little cape to keep her shoulders warm.  She was glad she that she did when she arrived, but not because of the weather.  She was glad that the cape covered up her necklace.  She had not expected to be going into the dark sector of the British wizarding community.  She should have asked Amaranth to be more clear with her.  She kept her eyes down as she walked through the narrow alley; trying hard to avoid the looks and jeers that were being sent her way.  Perhaps she should have asked Amaranth to meet at a different time, but the girl had been insistent.  She must have found something wonderful!

She picked up her pace as she glanced down at the letter with the directions on it.  She did not wish to attacked any more unwanted attention than she had already attracted to herself simply by how she was dressed.  When she reached the storefront she looked at it and was even more surprised at the shabby nature of the store that she had been told to go to.  Grimli was not what she was expecting to be going to.  She hesitated for a moment before going in.  This had better be good.  At some point in the journey there Sigrid had realized that she was probably in more danger than she thought that she had been in.  She had never truly been good at defensive spells, and this was a place that she needed them.  She wished that she had worn a longer cloak, or a coat, or something that had just covered her more. 

As she opened the door she felt more relief that she was out of the alley.  She glanced around at the shop, and it was cleaner than she expected from how it looked outside.  There was still so much clutter around.  It made her a little nervous.  This place was very different than the Stringfellow establishment.  She was starting to wonder if she was in the right place though.  That was until she saw Amaranth behind the large desk.  She forgot how small the girl was.  Sigrid was hardly tall herself, but Amaranth was tiny.  "Good Night, Amaranth," she said to the girl in Russian, "I hope that what you have for me is good tonight!  You did not warn me as to where I was coming.  I am not dressed appropriately."  It may seem silly to most people, but being dressed correctly for an occasion was quiet important to the blond woman.   

Amaranth sat behind Niska's huge desk, putting her boots up on the wood and leaning back in his chair, one leg off the ground so it wobbled whenever she moved. The shop had been closed for a few hours now, according to the owl Niska had sent to pester her. He was supposedly out somewhere for most of the day and would probably not be back in time to set up for tonight's fight, so she was bestowed the dubious pleasure of cleaning out the arena and setting everything up. Amaranth pulled a face and considered drooling all over his desk, just cause.

She herself had gotten there about ten minutes ago, having Flooed in through the Grimli fireplace. She wondered if officials every wondered why a shop with so few customers had such heavy Floo network activity on fight nights. Probably not. People never paid attention to that kind of stuff, not when it was so mundane and obvious. She wiped a bit of soot out of her eye, hoping she had gotten it all. Yeah, she'd set up, whatever. She still had a lot of time before Niska got back and it wasn't like he was going to spank her. Probably. Okay, but he might make her clean more things and she was already tired from the kidnapping/blackmail job she had finished today. No more work please. Niska was such a bully.

Amaranth set the legs of the chair down on the floor and stood up when she heard the door open. The scent of lavender and gardenias and fine linens permeated the dusty air and she recognized it immediately as Sigrid, who greeted her. Err, oops. Amaranth hadn't even realized that sending someone as prim and proper as Sigrid into Knockturn Alley was like dropping fresh meat into a pit of tigers. She had totally just assumed that because she herself was used to being in shady, honestly kinda disgusting places, everyone would be as well. Oops. "Good night to you too, Sigrid," Amaranth said, momentarily surprised by which language she was addressed in. Usually in Britain she spoke english, so this was a little weird. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I'm sorry about making you walk here. I should remembered to give you the address so you might have Flooed. I hope no one gave you trouble."

She picked up a small, cloth-wrapped square from inside the desk where she had stowed it away, and placed it on the table top, between both of them. The cloth was dusty, ripped, and smelled a little stained, which was why Amaranth had almost missed it. She had found the package wedged between the floor and a shelf, probably having fallen there ages ago. It would have stayed there too, if Amaranth hadn't been chasing her runaway tangerine yesterday at lunch. "I think you'll be interested in what I found." She peeled back the cloth to reveal a slightly dusty burnished silver tiara. The entire thing was made of thin silver vines that wound loosely together to make the body of the circlet, and in the center, dipping low on the forehead, was a delicate pink and white pearl lotus, and the side vines were dotted with even smaller white and pink flowers.

The whole thing was simple and light and understated, but Amaranth had found it beautiful just to touch. And maybe wear around for an hour. Or three. And it was even more interesting when Niska told her what it was. "According to the logs, this is a one-hundred and fifty year old tiara given to the current Japanese emperor's daughter by a Norwegian suitor. She almost married him too, but her father disapproved of his nose or something so he made her get rid of it. One of Grimli's old owners must have brought it here and forgotten about it. I have no use for it, but I don't want it to stay in this place. I trust someone like you will find a good home for such a beautiful piece. I checked with the owner and he said this was okay to sell this to you."

Amaranth had just set it down lightly on the cloth for Sigrid when she heard familiar footsteps outside the shop. They were heavy and purposeful, but measured. Niska. Merlin, if he catches me he's going to make me clean out the arena after the fight too. I wanna sleep! Amaranth quickly dropped to the floor and crawled to the other side of the shop, navigating from memory. "Sorry to cut our meeting short," she called to Sigrid. "But I have to go before the big bad wolf makes me do more chores." Once she reached the hidden entrance she whispered "Breaded Pork Cutlet" in english and the shelf disappeared, revealing a staircase down to the arena. Still on her hands and knees she begun to crawl down. "Our standard fifteen percent commission when you sell the piece will be fine," she called, disappearing into the dark as the staircase closed behind her.

Niska really didn't like goblins, or more, they seemed to not like him. Maybe it was because every time he went to Gringotts he ended up in a full blown audit, but he was sure that the goblins must be onto him. Perhaps it would be prudent to keep his money in a mattress somewhere. Making monthly deposits of varying large amounts of cash was suspicious and he was a suspicious-looking character. Maybe he should start shaving before he went to the bank. No. He just wanted to deposit and withdraw his goddamn money instead of spending hours jumping through hoops when he wanted to withdraw before a big fight. Speaking of which, Amaranth was taking over tonight and he was looking forward to relaxing.

Walking down Knockturn Alley was never a problem for him. He shoved his hands in his pocket and looked around, daring someone to come near him. Aside from the fact that he was big, he also had what his brother Adelei described as a "perpetual stank face" that kept unwanted company as far away as possible. It worked at bars, it worked in Knockturn Alley. He merely glanced at the characters his passed, taking in the gloomy, dark scent of their magic as it wafted through the alleys, seeming to hang like a dense fog of shadow around everyone he came into contact with. It was late at night and many off the ghouls were out. He'd hate to be someone other than him right not. Walking down these streets would be dangerous.

He rounded the corner and casually looked into the shop, noticing some of the candles were still lit. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Amaranth duck under his desk, rather pointedly not in the arena preparing for tonight's fight. He entered the shop in time to hear Amaranth shout something in russian and then the familiar sound of the melting staircase closing. He navigated the display tables, making his way toward the person she had seemingly abandoned in the middle of his shop. Although, there was a chance that Amaranth had really been running from the woman-- there had been a note of terror in her voice. Niska hesitated for a second as he came up on the woman from behind, ready to defend or strike. But the magic around her was a soft bluish turquoise that seemed to dance and spin gently around her body like a living ribbon. Not dark, not harmful.

Her magic, though very enduring and level, was not strong enough to make Amaranth run for cover, unless she was hiding it very well. She was shorter than him, not much taller than Amaranth, but certainly older. He couldn't determine her age as quickly because she looked rather young, but the controlled nature of her magic told him that she was adept at using it, or at least comfortable to the point that she had been using it for years. She must be at least 25. He looked down at her hands, taking in the slight wear and lines that went across it. Maybe a little older, at least his age. All of her features were very delicate and soft, but also regal and well-maintained. He frowned. Now what what someone like this doing in his dusty little shop?

Niska glanced at the table and noticed a small silver crown sitting on a cream-colored cloth. That was the one Amaranth had asked him about yesterday. He had to go through some of the old record books but he had managed to find it. Since it wasn't cursed Niska had let her have it, despite the fact that the previous storeowner had marked it as historically significant, which meant "do not sell". What was Niska supposed to do, keep it? Amaranth's family worked in jewelry so it would be going somewhere better, he was sure of it.

His eyes floated back to the woman, sliding casually over the blue necklace she was wearing. Then the ring on her finger and the matching earrings peeking out under her hair. Very coordinated. All of her appearance was well put together in a subtle-but-deliberate way. Niska didn't pretend to know anything about fashion, but he did notice patterns. Like the style of jewelry she was wearing, for example. He'd seen something similar on Amaranth, who rarely every wore anything but her family jewelry. This woman must be a friend of hers from the business. And the tiara on the table, the one Amaranth had asked for, was probably the reason that this woman was here, obviously a fews streets outside of her comfort zone.

Niska walked behind his desk and picked his chair up off the floor where Amaranth had knocked it down in her hurry to escape him. "Hello," he greeted her, taking the chance and assuming she was russian and not that Amaranth was randomly shouting things in another language. Which she sometimes did, actually. "I hope our friend hasn't been impolite. I'm Niska Zukov, the owner of this store. Is there anything else I can do that my little goblin underling hasn't done for you?"

Yes, this was worth coming to this creepy street and dingy shop for.  This was more than worth it.  Sigrid tried to contain her excitement at the description of the item as she looked at it. She would have to feel it to tell if it was real of course.  If it was it would be very worth adding to her collection.  She was not even sure she would ever sell it.  She may just put it on display.  It was not often she found items such as this that were made in her home country.  She recognized the Thulite immediately in the piece.  Remembering how excited she had always been when pieces of the stone were pulled up with the less pretty stones that came out of the mine.  Her father had always given her and her sister little pieces of it each time.  It was a fond memory, and really it was the stone that had started her love of gemstones.  She had started to learn all she could about stones after doing so with the pink one.   She wanted this, but she had to remember not to show it. 

Sigrid was surprised at Amaranth’s behavior after setting the tiara on the counter.  The blond got nervous, but was fighting the urge to pick up the piece and really get a good look at it.  She heard the door open behind her, and stood perfectly still.  Should she be hiding too?  This was not the best neighborhood to be in, and Amaranth probably knew more about it than she did.  Sigrid clutched her bag a bit closer to her knowing that her wand was inside it.  She may not be the best fighter, but she was alright with curses from time to time.  Simple ones at least.  Not wonderful, but competent.  She was much, much better at charms and Illusions, but she was quick.  She had to stay calm just in case. 

The last comment the girl had made threw her.  Commission….that word meant business.  The owner then.  That would make sense.  Chores, commission…yes the owner.  She only relaxed minutely.  Business was something she was good at, but she remembered where she was.  The dark nature of this street worried her about who was approaching her from behind.  The clutter in the shop suddenly started to get to her a little.  Her shop was the complete opposite of this one.  Everything had its place, and nothing moved from it until it sold.  She was sure there were some treasures hidden in all of this, the tiara for example, but she was not sure she was willing to look.  In the moment she was not willing to at all.  Sigrid had watched as Amaranth vanished down into a passageway.  Just what was this place?  She felt her heart start to beat faster.

She let her eyes follow the man as he came into view.  His appearance did nothing to call her nerves.  He was much bigger than she was, but that was never hard to do.  He was very obviously stronger than her, and he looked like he had been through many physical fights.  She tried to fight the feeling of intrigue that he gave her, but she could not.  His face…something about him reminded her of Radoslav, but younger.  It was his eyes, his awareness.  Something in her knew that he had been watching her, taking stock of her, since he had walked into the room.  She was not a threat to him, and she just hoped he was not a threat for her.  She was just here to do business with him, and if he was the owner of the shop they could at least share that in common.

Sigrid was relieved when he spoke Russian at least.  She would have been lost if the younger girl had abandoned her with someone who didn’t.  Though her yelling in it at the man should have been a sign.  Sigrid tilted her head at his comment.  It was a bit impolite of Amaranth, but she always found the younger Stringfellow girl a bit different.  She enjoyed it a bit.  She had never dared to be different when she was that age.  She didn’t have the freedom to.  His last name was familiar.  She remembered it from school, but the first name didn’t ring a bell.  Maybe he had siblings.  He was Russian though, there was no doubt about it.  Although her Russian was perfect, the slight accent of a non-native speaker showed through in hers. 

A soft, small smile naturally appeared on her face.  She was not sure yet if she trusted this man, but that always took time with her.  The memories of how nice Radoslav had been to get to know tugged at her mind.  He was a surprise, an enigma, maybe this was it again.  Or maybe she was reading into something that had not happened and she would simply purchase this piece from the man and leave.  “I am Sigrid Olafsdotter,” she said politely, “and I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to look closer at this piece before I talk about a price.” 

She reached gently for the tiara.  It was really quite impressive.  It seemed lighter than it should to be real silver.  Sigrid held up the tiara closer to eye level so that she could get a good look at the stones.  She could tell just by looking at it that the pearls and Thulite were real.  She was always much better with gemstones than metals.  Perhaps it was simply silver plated.  “The silver,” she inquired looking  back up at him, and lowering the tiara back onto the cloth, “Do you know if it is plated?”  She got an curious expression on her face, and bent down to look at the tiara on the cloth once again. “Hum….It could be enchanted to be lighter?” she said softly to herself, but she knew she could be heard clearly in the quiet store.  That was an intriguing thought…It would be much easier to wear if it was enchanted to be lighter, but not lose any of its actual value.

Sigrid Olafsdotter. Niska ran her face and her magic and her name over in his head. He was pretty sure they had never met before but he could be wrong. She wasn't bad to look at though, very elegant and graceful like it came naturally to her. Niska remembered seeing that in some of the fine ladies he had been hired to protect back in his school days, but he hadn't seen that kind of class in years. Lately it seemed he mostly dealt with little blind school girls and various suspicious characters who came to the fights. Tonight. There were fights tonight, he reminded himself. He glanced at the fireplace to his left. That would be full of people soon, he should finish up here.

The woman wanted to take a closer look at the crown and Niska gestured for her to go ahead. She did the usual appraisal business, looking very in her element. Niska frowned when she asked about the tiara's metal. He admittedly knew nothing about jewelry, which was why he had underlings to take care of cataloguing things that were outside the scope of his knowledge. Weapons he could identify in a heartbeat, but most of those were locked in a trunk in the back room. There were shady characters on these streets and he didn't want to risk any of them getting their hands on a spanish-made conquistador sword. Which was why it currently sat on the wall of his apartment. All he knew about this particular piece was the history according to Archie's logs, which were usually right. There was nothing in the pocketbook about what the tiara was made of, though. He stayed on his side of the desk, looking the thing over again, this time with narrowed eyes.

"Hmm." He waved his hand over the tiara, feeling a very faint vibration go up as his arm as he passed over the center flower. It appeared there was some sort of enchantment on the piece. He'd missed it before because Amaranth had been holding it when she showed it to him and her magic had been covering up the slight twinging he was feeling in his fingers. That...could be a problem. Niska reached down and picked the piece up, feeling clumsy and awkward as he tried to cradle the thin metal in his big hands. It looked comically tiny in his meaty paws. He held it out in front of him, able to feel his eyes changing color and possibly even glowing as he looked over the piece. Hopefully it was too dark for Sigrid to see. Fully activated, Niska's magus was able to pick up the slow hum of magic flowing through the metal wires. There was a dim white glow around the center flower, but it was soft and pulsating, like a tiny heart.

"Looks like this metal's enchanted. Can't say if it's to make it lighter though. It's an interesting piece, and I'm not surprised it caught your eye what with all the, uh, shininess. Someone put an Everlasting Beauty charm on this, though. He must have wanted it to stay pristine for the woman he was giving it to." Niska put the tiara back down, relatively positive it wasn't going to explode in a blaze of black fire and curse all in the immediate vicinity. Wouldn't be the first time in this damn shop.

There was a note on the table, scrawled on the back of a receipt for a case of firewhiskey. It was written in Amaranth's shorthand, recognizable by the fact that it was illegible and running off the edge of the paper. "PERSONAL APPRAISAL FOR CIRCLET 500G." And then written below that, smushed into the the corner was, "P.S. YOUR APARTMENT IS OUT OF MILK." Five hundred galleons was equivalent to four thousand Muggle money, almost nothing. That was awful low for a piece like this. He showed it to Sigrid. "Amaranth has this-- I'm assuming circlet means crown-- set at five hundred galleons. Seems a little too generous for an enterprising business-imp like her, but you must be someone special if she will give it to you for this much. Are you a collector or are you looking to sell this piece?"

Niska's head snapped up when he heard a loud crash from somewhere in the basement. A few seconds later it was followed by a muffled "I'm okay, don't worry!" Goddamn, that girl didn't seem to understand the meaning of "secret basement". Had she forgotten to put up the silencing charm too? Niska rubbed his temples. Hopefully the woman would ignore Amaranth's shenanigans and not go poking around. Not when they were about ten minutes from dozens of spectators popping through the fireplace. "Don't mind the little crazy person. She's just... rearranging furniture in the basement. Are we square with 500 for the tiara?"

Sigrid tilted her head a little as she studied his actions.  She did not question them though. Perhaps he was better with enchantments, or was just eccentric.  That was always a possibility.  If his shop was anything to show for him he was quite eccentric, but he seemed too young for this shop.  He looked younger than her, but his eyes had more depth to them.  His eyes....something curious was going on with them that she couldn't put her finger on.  It was like they were....changing color...they were!  It was beautiful.  Sigrid had no idea just what he was doing, but the way his eyes changed from the deep brown to an amber color.  They were lovely really.  She watched him quietly as he looked at the tiara.  What did he think he could learn from the piece?  She thought he would simply know about the piece as the owner.  It was almost like he was seeing the charms themselves.

He confirmed her suspicions though.  It did have the beauty charm on it though.  That made sense, but he did seam to see something else.  "May I look again?" She held out her hands for him to place the tiara in.  She was interested in seeing if there was a makers mark.  She had to smile at him with his comment about why it had caught her eye, and a small laugh escaped her lips. "It caught my eye because it has value," she said in a slightly amused voice, "These stones are real, as are the pearls, and if you say that there is some other enchantment other than the Everlasting Beauty charm I would be that the silver is also pure, and solid.  I would like to see if there is a makers mark on the silver."  This was clearly her forte.  For years now she had been finding vintage pieces, and some were less quality pieces than others.  This was a quality piece.

She looked inside the tiara and found the mark that she was looking for.  This was pure, and given the maker....well it just made her want the piece even more.  She wished she could say that it didn't matter what the price was, but that was not the case.  She was not an overly wealthy woman, and she would need to sell quite a few pieces to make up for the cost of this one.  It was probably worth at least 1000G, and she really didn't have that kind of money to spend.  She really could only hope that she could persuade him that it was worth less.  She set the tiara back down on the cloth and took the note in her hand.  She had to read it over again just to be sure she actually read it right.  500G?  Amaranth knew better than that.  She must have known that Sigrid wouldn't have been able to resist.  She would have given up her food money to have the piece.   

She was very quiet for a moment; almost shocked at the kindness of the young woman.  She opened her mouth to speak once, and closed it not really knowing what to say.  She looked up into his eyes after a moment.  "Judging by the makers mark on the silver it came from my family's mines," she told him, "I came here thinking of finding a piece to sell, but...I think this would go in my personal collection...." The noise coming from down the hidden stairs that Amaranth disappeared  down into.  She raised an eyebrow at Niska's excuse for the noise going on.  "That was a terrible lie," she said with a smile, "but yes, I will take the tiara."  She opened her purse and brought out the needed money setting it down the desk. 

She found herself not really wanting to leave though.  She didn't really feel like walking back down this alley with the tiara.  She noticed the the fireplace, and wondered if she would be able to floo.  That was not what came out of her mouth though.  She reached to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear.  "Thank you," she said, and after a pause, "Perhaps you have some other items lying around.  If you find them I hope you would think of me."  She looked into his eyes again.  There was just...something there.  He knew he was losing money on this deal though.  Amaranth had know he would be too.  Sigrid felt like she owed him at least another visit to find something else in this place.  There had to be some other things hidden in the shop. 

She held out her hand to him to seal the deal on the tiara.  Whatever fear and nervousness she had when he had entered the shop had left her for some reason.  His eyes had drawn her in.  She was intrigued by him, and his color changing eyes.  It was like they had almost glowed.  What did that?  She did not trust him, but she wanted to know him.  He could be helpful to her.  She knew there was a piece somewhere in Ireland that she had wanted, and had been putting off because she was warned not to go alone.  This Niska could be quite helpful.  He spoke English, and he was intimidating looking.  Yes, this could work out. 

"Would you be interested in speaking about a different type of business," she asked him with her head tilted to one side, "I have been needing to find someone to accompany me to purchase a necklace in Ireland.  I was told to not go alone.  I am not sure if it would be something you are interested in, but I would be grateful if you would consider it." 

Niska took the money she offered, quickly counting it to make sure it was all there. Not that the woman looked the kind to stiff on the bill, she was obviously very mannered and classy, but he didn't know who she was. He shook her hand and rewrapped the tiara in the piece of cloth, then pulled a small bag out from under the table and put the tiara inside that, then held it out by the handles. "There you go." Niska opened the drawer in his desk and placed the money inside, dropping in into the dark abyss to be retrieved at a later date. He would have to go back to the bank next week, since tonight's fight was going to make him just a little bit richer. The house always won, which was why this was such a lucrative occupation.

Sigrid didn't seem to be heading toward the door and Niska realized that it was probably because outside his shop was the literal manifestation of darkness and evil. Plus, it was almost midnight. No one in their right mind would want to go outside. But he couldn't let her use the Floo network, not when it was about to be the giant portal for screaming spectators and fighters. "There is a lot of stuff in here I've never seen, and now that we've met, I'll be sure to contact you if I find anything extra shiny." Then she asked if he would accompany her to some jewelry buy in Ireland. That sounded like the sort of thing she should take Amaranth to, since the girl knew a lot more about jewelry and fancy stuff than he did.

But Amaranth wasn't real imposing and wouldn't act as much of a deterrent. He saw the reason behind that. It wasn't often that Niska got asked to do jobs, and this one sounded a lot like a bodyguarding one. Well, Sigrid was nice to look at and real pleasant to be around, so far as he could tell, so he could maybe do that for her. "That sounds like something I might be able to help you with. A lot of those places are dangerous, from what Amaranth's told me. Gotta either be brave or some kind of lunatic to want to go to a place like that for the art." He grinned. "But as far as lunatics go, you don't seem that bad. Sure, I'll help."

Just then, a green flash flooded the dark shop with light and someone tumbled out out of the fireplace. Underneath the soot, he recognized her by the brown hair and three scars on her face. It was Amaranth's cousin Cassia, the one who just got out of Azkaban. She had a threatening scowl on her face as she walked to the bookcase, said the password, then disappeared down the secret passageway. Niska blinked. Of all the people to walk through the shop, Cassia was literally one of the most suspicious-looking characters who could have decided to arrive right now. He turned to Sigrid. "Ah, well, let's retire upstairs and discuss this more. It's a little dusty down here."

He hoped no one else would arrive as he walked to the wall by his desk, magicked the bookshelf to melt into the floor, and quickly made his way into the dark stairwell. "I live right above the shop. Helps me keep an eye on everything. Watch your steps, they're uneven." Niska unlocked his apartment and waved his hand to turn on the lights. He stepped aside to let her in, glancing around his apartment to make sure he hadn't left anything dangerous or weapon-y around.

His own apartment was the minimalistic in decoration, with very few pieces of furniture and a large empty space on the wooden floor. He might have once been the kind of person who needed to be surrounded by shiny and impressive things, but no longer. In fact, it had had taken him months to get used to having stuff.  There were a few weapons and papers and photos tacked to his wall, and his shelves were full of stuff, but other than that there was very little about. It was all open so he could see everywhere.

Niska pulled out a kitchen chair for her and walked into the kitchen. "You hungry or anything? I have coffee and tea..." He opened his icebox and frowned. "But apparently no milk."

Sigrid laughed a little, but was happy that he seemed to be willing to consider her request.  She knew that it was not always the smartest thing for her to do, but she did go out of her way for her clients.  Most of the time the shop keepers were just happy to sell her things, but the idea of going to a place where she knew that they did not speak the same language, and having been forewarned about the nature of the shop keeper she felt it best to not.  Niska though, Niska seemed to be able to provide her with two of the things that she needed; the ability to speak English, and the ability to…well to protect her.  She did not wish to be hurt physically, or financially due to her inability to communicate properly.  Still this piece seemed like it would fit the request she had been struggling to fulfill for years perfectly. 

“I am simply a business woman trying to please a customer,” she said with a bright smile, “Thank you for your assistance in advance.  In Russia at least I speak the language, but when I do not I just feel more at risk.”  Even though she knew what the green flash came from, Sigrid visibly startled a bit.  She had not been expecting someone to be arriving by floo so late at night.  Then again she had not expected a shop to be open so late at night.  There was something odd about this place, but she just couldn’t put a finger on it.  The look of the person who stepped out of the fireplace did nothing to calm her nerves that had started again.  She clutched the bag that she had taken from Niska tightly against her stomach, and felt herself tense up as she watched the character make her way toward the bookshelf that Amaranth had went down, and did the same.  Just what was this type of place.  She was not sure she wanted to know what it was.     

Something deep down inside of her told her to give Niska a chance though.  She was still quite wary, but she had no one else that she could turn to for this sort of thing.  He had been the first person she encountered whom she thought would be up for the job.  When he offered to discuss the job more upstairs she was a bit torn.    Perhaps she should just leave, but no.  She needed to discuss this, and he did seem willing.  It would be good to get off her feet too.  She nodded at him softly and followed him toward the bookshelf.  She liked the fact that the other sections of the shop were hidden.  It made it seem like there was only one exit which would be handy.  She thought about the possibility of doing something like it in her shop.  Sigrid couldn’t blame him for wanting to live close to his shop.  It made sense in this neighborhood.  She had thought about doing so for her shop, but she had to have a place for her animals and it made it impossible. 

Sigrid moved quietly behind him, focusing on her feet to make sure she didn’t trip.  Her heels clicking softly on the stairs as she went.  She looked around as they entered the apartment itself.  It was quite sparse, and most defiantly did not show signs that a woman lived in it with him.  She was a bit surprised by that.  He was not an unattractive man, at least to her, and he seemed to be keeping up a good business no matter how dark it was.  He was not the type of man she had been raised to be married to though.  That much she could tell.  Though she had promised years ago that she would never even look at that type of man again.  Though from time to time she had made exceptions.  Not surprisingly, none of them had worked out. 

She gratefully took the seat that she was offered, and let her death grip of the bag and purse go as she set it down on the table before her.  “Tea would be lovely,” she said as she watched him walk into the kitchen, “With honey if you have it?”  It would do her good to warm up a little.  She did not realize that she had gotten chilly until her heartbeat had slowed to a normal pace.  She took a chance then.  “What brought you to London?”  She found the city to be strange from what she was used to, and she hated the weather.  Then again she was used to at least a month of complete darkness in the winter, and eternal daylight in the summer.  Her view on the weather was quite strange.

Niska opened his cabinets and listened as she spoke, taking out the small jar of tea. He put a kettle on the stove and lit the fire. Niska turned back to face her, leaning one hand against the counter as he looked her over again casually. Somewhere in his mind he was surprised that Amaranth had such a pretty friend. And a proper one. He knew Amaranth was from a wealthy family, but he was under the impression that she wasn't part of that world, considering her family had hired Adelei to kill her. Families were complicated, this he knew. But most of the people he spent time with were the kinds who would go to a fight club or go to a shop like his. As he noted before when he first laid eyes on her, it had been a while since he had seen her type. She looked very out of place in his sparse apartment. Then again, all other people seemed out of place in his life.

When she asked where he was from, Niska considered just how much to tell her. His history was innocuous enough if he left out some of the more gory parts. What else were they going to talk about? "I'm from Volgograd and I went to Durmstrang with my brothers, but after I graduated I moved around quite a lot. I stirred up a bit of trouble and had a few misadventures before my brother suggested I move to the isles. One of our family friends owned this shop and I worked here for a while. After he passed I inherited the shop and I've been living here ever since. That was...almost two years ago? I can't really remember." He shrugged, turning back to the kettle as it begun to whistle.

He took it off the hot burner and placed it carefully to the side as he scooped a few spoonfuls of tea into a little metal steeper and clamped it shut. "I haven't been back to Russia in a while," he said, his back still turned. He opened one of the lower cabinets and pulled out his black cast-iron teapot and placed it on the table with a quiet clunk. Niska put the steeper in the teapot and poured the hot water over it, watching it steep. He reached back into the cabinet to get out the jar of honey, placing it on the counter along with two teacups. "My business here keeps me pretty busy so I only leave when I have to,"he said, bringing everything to the table.

He put a teacup in front of Sigrid and stood beside her as he tipped the teapot and filled her cup. Then he gently placed the honey jar beside her bfore sitting down across the table. He remembered all of that fancy, mannered schooling he'd been given as a child, but he thought that'd be out of place here. He'd settled into his role as the ornery man who ran a creepy shop and somehow it fit. People didn't come by that often. But he pulled a couple manners out just for Sigrid, because she seemed like she'd be the type of lady to appreciate that.

"Anyways," he said, pouring himself a cup. "How about you? Do you commute to Britain for work or have you moved here? You don't seem like the kind to stir up trouble at home, then again, I have been wrong before." He gave her a lazy grin before bringing the cup to his lips and taking a sip.