Chapter Text
Gertrude’s weekend is more lowkey than usual. She’s coaxed herself out of spending hours on research off of Institute time, she thinks that somehow she’s done enough this week – with winning the eBay bid for that Lietner, and looking into the Great Twisting. So she’s decided to buy a candle or two. She likes this store; the cozy vibe while being usually empty, and the fact that it’s less than ten minutes’ walk from her flat. She’s not thinking about much when she steps in, but her mind sure does light up when she spots the only other customer within.
She’s never seen the woman before, but she recognizes the auburn hair. Though none of the candles are alight, the strongest smell in the room is that scent of burning, of smoke. The tangled threads around her heart bring her mind back to the ritual circle that was to bind her, to stop the ritual of the damned Desolation. It’s near impossible to think of this woman as anything more than an instrument, much less a human. This Agnes Montague is a created goddess. Not a beautiful woman smiling curiously, smelling faintly of ash. But she is, she’s right there.