The Odd Invitation

Dealing with the authorities had been… irritating to put it politely. Once the adrenaline of the moment passed, Vor could see that the best he could get from them would be when the owner heard of its theft. Given the piece's rarity, he had to assume the person was wealthy and had enough power to be of some priority over the commoners. Even then, the cogs of proper justice could run a bit slow at best.
He splashed the brush he was using against the canvas in his dull frustration, the paint far too runny to do anything but drench the piece he had been working on to try and focus himself. Looking at the lazy streams that formed, mixing with the paint already there and smearing it beyond saving, he finally found a true mental calm. As always, Metira’s embrace was best felt with water.
Mayhaps he would need to muddy the waters himself, as humans often said, which made little sense to him since muddy waters only left one blind and choking, as the Araunda often said. He looked at the card he had laid at the base of the canvas, now bearing a streak of purplish water that he wiped off with his paint rag before picking it up with his gloved hand. He still needed to find a paint safe for him to handle, having learned the hard way that the sources nearby were not friendly to his water-absorbent skin, though it seemed that would have to wait if he joined the woman’s investigation.

It is not something you can back out of easily, once you have decided to accept.

Cryptic for sure. The woman didn’t seem to be under the influence of any medicines or drink, though he knew many nobles, lords, and ladies that regularly imbibed and could readily function in society.
She knew what the Visage’s were, which wasn’t that notable for nobility that were attracted to the histories. She could just be a collector, maybe obsessed with Araundan culture?
Maybe she was with the thieves, hoping to trick him into a swift death. Vor had heard too many stories of what certain cultures and ignorant minds thought of his kind’s parts to not feel a warning in the back of his mind.

For all of the doubt though, he couldn’t let this Visage go. To do so would be a shame on his spirit and an insult to his people. He had to take the offer. He had to try.
Besides, the excitement of the situation had broken his artist’s block and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was Metira giving him a sign out of Kasta’s most recent scheme. There was only one way to find out.
Looking out the window, he avoided the crowded rooftops to see where the sun was and noted it beginning its descent into evening. A large clock in his room verified, just after 5.
His clothes and supplies already packed, he figured he could reach the address before the appointed time, which he hoped would throw Ms. Ellington if she had nefarious purposes. In case of things going even more askew though, he made sure to hide a knife in his waistcoat before leaving to hopefully get answers.