With her long waxy nail, gnarled like knotted oak, Regalia the gypsy scratched the surface of Horace’s rare glowing artifacts; a pair of brass knuckles.
Ella and Clemens looked at each other sideways, not too sure what was about to happen. Clemens, the one who usually asked for forgiveness after acting, decided to make a grab for Horace’s talisman. Ella, the one who usually asked for forgiveness before acting, stayed his hand. With her eyes she forced Clemens to take note of Horace’s face, the face that never needed forgiving. It was a face of perfect trust.
“I’ve been of this world for many tides” Regalia spoke with awe, “And I’ve never seen a talisman halved. Tell me, do they act independently or only as a pair?”
“No’m, they can do both. But I have to be wearin’ one for both of ’em to work.”
“Your name” Regalia noted, “Horace, Timekeeper, is no accident.”
Regalia turned to Ella. “Have more tea?” she asked as she poured. “You have an interesting path, yet one you hide. Now is the time for truths.”