For one reason or another, you want to meet the Harmonic Hellfarer. Maybe you're opportunistic. Maybe you simply want to make a friend. You could be anyone: A spirifer, a Bohemian, a scholar, a nun, a Rubberyman, a devil. Whoever you are and whatever your motives, here you are.\n\n[[Meeting the Harmonic Hellfarer]]. Begin!

When you bring up the name 'Miss L," your friend, the curate, sighs deeply.\n\n"She was a good woman, once," he says, rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. "She might still be. I don't know. I haven't spoken to her since... I'm sorry, I can't help you."\n\nEveryone else you ask says the same thing: Best to avoid her kind. They say devils only care about one thing, and those who work for them are like-minded, interested in little more than wealth and pleasure-seeking. One clergyman in Veilgarden subjects you to a spit-flecked tirade about her awful, soulless writing, her unforgivable pretentions about being a 'poet.' You wipe your face and leave, discouraged.\n\nMeeting the Harmonic Hellfarer might not be such a good idea, after all.

You just so happen to have a jar of Prisoner's honey on your person. You never come to Veilgarden without it.\n\nThe Dreamy Poetess cries out in delight, and soon you are transported together to a dream.\n\nIn the dream, you are hunters, draped in the striped and speckled pelts of your prey. You rove through a dark forest, running with such speed and ease that you barely seem to skim the ground. You glide from shadow to shadow in pursuit of a white shape, fleeing through the underbrush.\n\nThe Poetess raises an arm, hefting a silver spear. As soon as you set eyes on it, you know intuitively what it is: A weapon out of legends, crafted from starlight. The Poetess hurls the spear, and it pierces the pale flank of its prey. She swoops and catches it in her arms before it can fall to the ground.\n\nIt's a hare, as large as a dog and as white as snow. Its eyes, gypsum marbles, roll wildly as silver words pour from the wound in its side, and it jabbers death cries in rhyming meter.\n\nThe Poetess lowers her head, and drinks this poetry until the hare goes still. When she lifts her head, her lips are stained silver. She smiles at you.\n\n[[You hit the floor, missing the couch by inches.]]\n\n\n

You clean up the mess the cat left for you, get a fresh piece of paper, refill your inkwell, and sit down to start a letter. You've been in the Neath for a while now, and you fancy you know something of its deeper mysteries.\n\n[[Send her a letter about Flute Street.]] Explain that you have seen her at Benthic, and heard many things about her intellectual achievements. You'd like to share your findings, and get her opinion. (Unlocked with Connected: Rubbery Men 50, Connected: Benthic 1)\n\n[[Send her a letter asking about soullessness.]] You choose your words carefully, trying to project a perfect blend of academic and personal interest. She is sure to respond.\n\n[[Send her a letter about the Forgotten Quarter.]] Didn't you see her there once? Ask her if she has an interest in archeology.\n\n[[Send her a letter about places far from London's lights.]] Perhaps you are a well-travelled individual. Perhaps you know someone else who is. Or, maybe, you've a gift for telling entertaining lies. (Unlocked with 1x Zee-Story)\n\n[[Send her a letter hinting at the Correspondence.]] You'll have to be careful. Use only the most esoteric of hints. Use cipher if you must. If your letter is intercepted, all manner of bad things could happen to you. (Unlocked with A Scholar of the Correspondence 1)\n

She writes rapidly, muttering some words aloud. "Star lights, the far lights... yes... and striped with shadow. Beautiful imagery..."\n\nWhen she finishes, she reads it aloud to you. You are effusive in your praise, but it seems she's forgotten entirely about your question. You gently remind her.\n\n"Oh! Miss L. She used to come by and read her own poetry in the pub, but she stopped doing that. I'm not sure why. Now she just comes to listen. She said some very lovely, and accurate, things about my poem, Love's Fullness, Roundness. In return, I accepted a poem from her. Here, let me get it for you."\n\nShe presents you with [[a ragged little paper]]. There's a stain from a coffee mug on the corner.

"Good evening," you address the cat politely. "Might I interest you in some tuna?"\n\n"You might," the cat says, and starts to sharpen her claws on your desk. You grit your teeth, but make a quick trip to the larder anyway. You were going to have that cave-tuna on some toast for lunch, but it might be put to better use. This cat is as black as the ink she's spilled all over your letters, and everyone knows black cats know the best secrets.\n\nYou ask your question before the cat finishes her tuna, not after, casually shutting the window next to the desk.\n\n"What can you tell me about Miss L? I'd like to meet her."\n\n\n"Miss L," the cat says, licking her lips. "A good sort, for a human. She's very inquisitive. Likes mysteries, finding answers to obscure questions, that sort of thing. She has a suite at the Brass Embassy." The cat finishes her meal, and fixes you with an orange-eyed stare. "Don't give her a gift. It won't work. Give her something to be curious about."\n\nThen the cat leaps off your desk and onto your bookshelf, scattering your letters all over the floor. She slips out through a hole in the roof that you didn't know was there.\n\n[[So she likes mysteries, does she?]]\n

You lean in. "Good afternoon," you say quietly. She slowly stirs, as if from a reverie, and looks at you. In the dim candlelight of the room, her eyes look as black as a shark's.\n\n"Good afternoon," she says.\n\n"Have we met before?" you ask.\n\n"We haven't." With that, she focuses on the deviless, and only shakes her head when you try to speak to her further. "Not right now."\n\nDamn it. She might be as bored as you are with this lecture, but she's not welcoming distractions, either. After the lecture ends, Miss L rises and heads for the exit. You try to follow, but the deviless from the podium has captured your hand.\n\n"Thank you so much for coming," the deviless purrs. "This is my first time speaking for an audience, you know. I hope I did well. What do you think? Did you find any part in particular to be... informative?" Your devil friend is watching you. There is no way to disengage from the deviless without causing offense, and Miss L has already left.\n\nMeeting the Harmonic Hellfarer will have to wait for another day.\n\n

The devil's face splits into an ear-to-ear grin once your friend understands your interest. "She's a busy woman. I'll see what I can do. And if you hit it off, I would not mind at all, as long as you remember me fondly. Especially if your fond remembrance inspires you to generosity. Good luck!"\n\nIn spite of your friend's words, you receive a letter within three days, inviting you to an orientation on the merits of soullessness. You strongly suspect this is a ploy on your friend's behalf, but you are assured that "Miss L" will be there.\n\n\n[[Attend an orientation at the Brass Embassy.]]\n

She turns around, her mouth full of pate. You use this opportunity to introduce yourself.\n\n"Fascinating speech," you say. "I doubt you would hear anything nearly as thorough, as scientific, at the church." You wait for her to swallow her snack.\n\n"I'm sure," she says. "I have never attended a church lecture, but from my experience, their arguments are always based more on feeling than fact."\n\n\n

The Dreamy Poetess lands softly on her divan, with the ease of a practiced honey-sipper. She sits up excitedly. "I need a pen! Quickly!"\n\n[[You can tell this is going to be a long night.]]

You wait until you get home before reading the poem. It's a jarring thing, with little eye for form, but the imagery is creative, at least. It speaks of an indescribable feeling: A wanting, wondering wistfulness. The desire for a conclusion. The desire to be consumed. She mentions golden eyes piercing the darkness.\n\nYou re-read it a few times, drawing conclusions about her tastes in poetry, and then decide to write. She listens to the young poets, the ones whose rawness of emotion exceeds their grasp of rhyming schemes, and you're sure you can write something just as good, or even better.\n\n[[Write a poem about her beauty.]] A little flattery never goes amiss.\n\n[[Write a poem about a long journey through darkness.]] The sense of forgetful urgency in her poem, the sense of being lost and hungry and dreaming, is a theme that might catch her attention if you write about it.\n\n[[Write nothing. Bring the poem with you to the pub and read it aloud.]]

You meet your friend, the Dreamy Poetess, when she is in one of her moods.\n\n"Who? Oh, her. I can't think about... listen, I've been terribly, terribly uninspired lately. Don't you think you could bring me something to cheer me up?" She peers hopefully out from under her arm, which she has thrown dramatically across her forehead, damsel-in-distress style.\n\nKnowing the Dreamy Poetess, that 'something' would have to be a dram of Prisoner's honey.\n\n\n\n\nGive her the honey, and dream with her for a while. [[Where's the harm?]]\n\n\n\n[[Forget it.]] You won't be supporting her deplorable habits.\n

You first saw her walking through Spite, cutting a wide swath through the crowds as people anxiously avoided the tiger walking by her side. Now you've seen her just about everywhere: Waiting in the Mahogany Hall between shows, with a bouquet of long-stemmed, rosy pink mushrooms in her arms. Sitting pensively in Veilgarden's pubs, drinking tea and listening to the amateur poets. Attending open lectures at Benthic, and walking the gardens of the Shuttered Palace, accompanied by a small entourage of cats. Once, you even saw her heading into the Forgotten Quarter with a rifle. She seems to be as diverse in her interests as you are.\n\nA small woman, but by no means delicate, she has dark amber eyes that forcibly remind you of a lioness, if you're of a poetic bent (and it just so happens that you are). How do you arrange an introduction? \n\n[[They say this one works for the Brass Embassy.]] What sort of work she does is unclear. Something about private salons and secret shows. You know a certain someone who can arrange an introduction. (Unlocked with An Intimate of Devils 1 Connected: Hell 10)\n\n[[They say this one works for the Brass Embassy. You'll seek the advice of a curate of your acquaintance first.]] (Unlocked with Connected: Church 10)\n\n[[The Giddy Debutante agrees to introduce you, as long as you promise to take her with you.]] (Unlocked with Connected: Society 10)\n\n[[A cat has shown up in your study, knocked over your ink well, and planted its inky paws firmly on the correspondence you were preparing. This gives you an idea.]] (Unlocked with Connected: The Duchess is 1)\n\n[[A Plucky Pugilist suggests you invite her to a sparring match. "She likes to fight," she says. "Watch out for those high kicks."]] (Unlocked with Dangerous: 100)\n\n[[Show up in one of the pubs she frequents and recite a poem in her honor. That should get her attention. The rest will surely fall into place. You may need a little help from your artistic friends.]] (Unlocked when Connected: Bohemians is 10)\n\n\n\n\n\n

Your devil friend meets you on the steps of the Embassy, and leads you to a long, smoky room with a low ceiling. A solitary window opens up into the courtyard, permitting slight relief from the heavy incense, and a glimpse of some ashy trees. A deviless at the podium is beginning her speech. "Thank you all so much for coming here. It is so good to see such a fine collection of intelligent, free-thinking individuals in one place..."\n\nYour friend, smiling, nods to a woman sitting in the middle row. There she is: Colloquially known as the Harmonic Hellfarer, more formally known as 'Miss L.' She wears a black suit with gold embroidery at the cuffs and hems. She is listening to the deviless at the podium speak with a sort of dutiful half-interest. She reminds you of a woman attending church, more out of habit and obligation than interest. And look! The seat beside her is empty.\n\n[[Sit down beside her, and listen to the deviless's speech.]] Or at least, pretend to.\n\n[[Sit down beside her, and try to get her attention.]]

This story is about my Fallen London OC, Lamea Lawless. Hasn't everyone wanted a storylet about their own character at one point or another? If you're reading this, you're probably a friend. Hi!

The speech lasts about thirty minutes. It might be interesting, in a sort of academic way, but you hardly pay attention. Instead, you use this time to plan your approach.\n\nOnce the speech is over, the deviless steps down from the podium, and everyone stands, some people leaving, and some people gravitating toward a table laden with complimentary refreshments. Miss L is one of the latter, waiting her turn for a chance at some liver pate on crackers. Now's the perfect time.\n\n[[Engage her in a conversation about the nature of souls.]] It will be topical.\n\n[["Have we met before?"]] Cliche, but it lets you off the hook if you weren't paying attention to the lecture. Besides, you've done your research, and you know something of her interests.