Taxidermy & Burglary

Story by Gerrymander

Long-time lurker, decided to try my hand at this whole writing a story thing. Got a world and a first plotline (5 or so chapters) lined up, not sure where it's going to lead after that! Let's see :)

Shackleford Street lay dark beneath the hot, hazy air of New London. A jeweled nightbird called out, unseen. A pair of imperial police patrolled in full kit, shining their lanterns into corners and alleyways, as they made sure the streets were empty after curfew. One pushed an empty cart. The other one paused, his light illuminating a huddled figure beneath a moldy sheet.

“Oi, mate!” His boot made a hollow thud as it connected with the figure’s ribs. There was no response. He turned to his partner. “We’ve got another husk, Liza. Load ‘er up.”

With a practiced deftness to her movements, Liza reached down with one hand and swung the corpse into her cart. It moved through the air with its limbs trailing behind it like streamers, and crunched a little as it landed on the wooden slats. The two officers continued on their way, the creak of the cart disappearing around the corner.

Hettie exhaled, and dropped from the rooftop of the building the coppers had just stopped at. She landed on the awning, which read LADY VANESSA’S TREASURES, TRINKETS, TRASH, & TAXIDERMY. Hettie was a lithe little creature, and, beneath a hood, her dark hair framed a cute brown face. A black cloak was clasped tightly around her body, and she wore leather boots. The cloth awning barely bowed at all beneath her weight.

She scurried over to the ornately barred second-story window, and produced from within her cloak a small pouch. Hettie darted her gloved hand inside, and tossed a pinch of dust at the window. Where the dust made contact, little violet sparks crackled softly across the circular pane. Soon the entire window was giving off a soft purple glow. Hettie gingerly extended one foot toward the window, and then stepped right through it, as though the glass and iron weren’t there at all.

“I love you, spirit powder,” she whispered, replacing the pouch within her cloak. “And I love you, eye of Octavius,” she continued, producing a yellow-tinted monocle and placing it in front of her right eye. Something that looked very much like a finger dangled from its chain. Holding her other eye closed, she could now see perfectly in the dark. Her gaze surveyed the room of display cases and pedestals offering all sorts of oddment. It settled on a turquoise-backed mirror and matching comb, in the shape of a stylized cat and fish. She darted over and picked them up.

“Well fuck me sideways with a railroad spike,” she whispered, “It’s in the first room we looked. I guess that means we can leave now.”

Her cock twitched in her trousers.

“I know it’s disappointing, Rajah, but, really, we should be thanking the gods for smiling on us. We can leave before the spirit powder runs out, and Mademoiselle will reward us for not wasting any.”

The cloth of her pants stretched further out as her cock continued to expand beneath them.

“You’re such a bully, Rajah. But fine. Have it your way. We’ll explore. See if we can’t find a little something nice just for us. Now behave.”

Rajah settled down, and she began to peruse the items in the room more closely.

“I love you the most too,” Hettie told her cock.

Hettie flitted around the room, perusing the various items. It seemed to be stocked with household oddments of disparate styles: mirrors, furniture, carpets, objets d’art. Some of it was fancy, but nothing gave off any hints of being arcane in nature. There was a little shrine to Lakshmi in one corner; Hettie gave particular attention to the items there, but, again, nothing seemed extraordinary.

As she approached the archway out of the room and prepared to enter the shop’s interior hallways, Hettie unsheathed a dagger. She pricked the tip of her index finger, and pressed the wound against the tip of the mummified finger attached to her monocle. The yellow glass of the eye of Octavius seemed to da

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