////Characters to interact with about the curse
///Izma [Cursed Shirt] topic. Tooltip "You found it at the lake, perhaps she knows something." Shark-people came to be roughly 30 years ago, when Izma was 7. She's almost 40?
You pilfered what seemed like a nice shirt from a fanatical zealot, and now it isn't coming off. [if (any TF event happened) {What's worse, it's changing|Without a doubt, that's a bad sign}]. Izma furls her brow at this and rubs her temples. [say: It... is familiar, actually.]

You are pleasantly surprised to hear this. Perhaps she can help you out with the predicament, or shed more light at least.

[say: It's tough... When I was a child, the elders of my village were experimenting with magic, they wanted the lake that had given our people life for so many generations to be as livable as the shore.] She winces as she strains to recall more details. [say: There were many garments and ceremonial objects. I was only 7, so I wasn't privy to much. I do know that I didn't go through what you're experiencing now, but maybe the elders created that one too?]

Magic isn't so much her forté, so you don't expect deeper insight than that. It's a stretch, but you ask if she knows where any of those elders are now.

Izma blinks in bewilderment. [say: I don't think I'd recognize them if they are still around, and I don't think enough of their minds would have survived the corruption to be of any help.]
///Ceraph [Cursed Shirt] topic. Tooltip "Her specialty is cursed equipment, is it not?"
You pilfered what seemed like a nice shirt from a fanatical zealot, and now it isn't coming off. [if (any TF event happened) {What's worse, it's changing|Without a doubt, that's a bad sign}]. Ceraph listens to your explanation with apparent amusement.

[say: [Master], if you wanted curses, you could have asked for one.] She grins and runs a finger along your [if (gills) {gills|collar}]. The pleasant scent of her breath fills your nostrils before her forehead touches your own. [say: My trinkets would have done far more exciting things to you, you really should think of me more.]

No insight has been given. Cutting through her teasing, you need to know if she can remove the curse.

[if (gills) {The demoness releases you and sighs. [say: I'm afraid it's a little late for that, the item is bonded to your body like a limb. A more tailor-made counter-spell is necessary.] Ceraph lays a finger on her chin to express deep thought before continuing. [say: I don't know where to start without the original, before it started changing itself to suit your body. My expertise won't be much help.] It's a dissatisfying answer; you'll have to investigate this elsewhere.{end scene}|The demoness drags her sharp nail down into the ruffles of your shirt as she ponders it. [say: Trivial. The binding is nothing special--I can tell that much by touch alone.]}]
[Remove Shirt].tooltip="No sense waiting, have her solve this." [Leave It].tooltip="Knowing you have the option is enough, it hasn't done anything too worrisome."
/Leave It
You'll come to her when you're ready; however, this curse isn't threatening your life at the moment. Exploring the situation will take priority until you decide otherwise.

[say: As you wish, [Master].]
/Remove Shirt. Replace [Cursed Shirt] button with this if the player chose to Leave It.
/gills
Ceraph stares for a moment and furls her brow. [say: [Master], something certainly appears to be different about this 'shirt'.] Your demon slave starts to walk around you, pondering aloud as she assesses this development. [say: It has merged with you and been molded by you as much as you have been molded by it. There is no simple fix for this.] She sighs and wraps her arms around you before whispering into your ear, [say:It makes you look pretty though, doesn't it?]

A shiver runs down your spine as you unthinkingly agree.
/no gills
At your request, Ceraph pushes her hand against your sternum, nearly throwing you off balance. [say: Ah, there we go,] she says. The demon goes on to mutter something under her breath, and then she raises her hand up, provoking your shirt to rise as though levitating. [say: And, release.]

The cloth settles. You delay for a moment to see if anything else might happen, but nothing does, prompting you to attempt to remove the shirt on your own. The loose fabric feels different, bunched up between your digits, and when you pull, it tears apart! The entire garment breaks into pieces with ease.

[say: Well, perhaps I wasn't quite delicate with it. Whoever crafted it must not have been concerned for durability.]

Nevertheless, the cursed shirt is off now, saving you plenty of trouble.

///Arian [Cursed Shirt] tooltip "Adept at magic and enchanting, surely Arian knows a thing or two that could help."
You pilfered what seemed like a nice shirt from a fanatical zealot, and now it isn't coming off. [if (any TF event happened) {What's worse, it's changing|Without a doubt, that's a bad sign}]. The dilemma seems to drive [arianhim] frantic. [say: T-that's not good, are you hurt?]

Whatever is going on, your life is at least not presently threatened, as you explain. This quells the anxiety of the lizan somewhat, but [arianhe] seems no less intent to wrack [arianhis] brain for a way to assist. [Arianhe] places a hand on your chest and concentrates.

[say: This isn't some parasite, this is magic. There's some kind of enchant at play, but I haven't seen anything quite like it before.] Arian sighs and continues thinking on it for some time. [say: I just don't know where to begin... B-but if you find any books or scrolls about this magic, I will read every word of it and do anything I can to help!]

Books or scrolls. You'll bear that in mind, but who's to say you'll ever find any so directly relevant?
///Minerva, the siren at the oasis where the spring water is. Maybe add a small scene of singing with her.