Day 14: Irma, Detective in Ythill

 Day 14
A quickly-made character for the system Dicks & Dames. The Chambers stuff is my addition. 


“If only Queen Cassilda knew how we suffer”

It was all Irma could do not to roll her eyes at the tiny woman in the purple shawl. Instead she looked out the window. A new fog was gathering, and another iron ship was disgorging its human cargo. 
Every day new people seemed to arrive, each with their drawn faces and their precious nonsense. Some talk of the Imperial family of America, others of a sign which seduces the sensitive and artistic to madness. Still others talk of nights lost to absinthe and débauche. All talk of the King, the Mask and the Phantom. Symbolist bullshit, but bullshit which seemed to be at the center of all things. The dead center. 
And so many of them ended up in Irma’s dusty office, exhorting her to find  the fiance that was sent to the penal colonies, or the comrade who was lost in a clandestine war in the streets of old New York. Irma felt more like a father confessor or a charlatan than a private detective. Of course she found some of them. Shell-shocked, obsessive, or seized by a mortal ennui. It was never the joyous reunion of which the clients dreamed. 

“If only” she answered the woman with a smile she hoped looked better than it felt. “Tell me about your son”. 




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