The job sounded straightforward at first, which really should have been a warning. Still, bills need paying, and standing around in the Nightside's Great Auction Hall (famously neutral ground), keeping bidders in line with glares and his reputation, didn't sound too bad. The catch turned out to be that this particular rich lady was trying to sell a Chaos Butterfly: a tangible metaphor, supposedly granting the bearer the ability to identify and manipulate every existing 'first domino in an event'. What it actually did was draw the attention of psychenauts (beings from lower and higher dimensions, who cannot be turned aside by human magics because they're either not real enough or too real to be affected), so while they were tearing the place down around them just through sheer exposure (and John did not want to think about why he was the only one not terribly affected), John freed the butterfly from its stasis. 

Freeing it should have just restored it to its normal, non-mystical state, and convinced the psychenauts there was nothing interesting for them here anymore. So it's really unfair when the world melts into a kaleidoscope around him after it beats its wings, and resolves into... Daylight? 

The priestess will find a man in a scruffy white trench coat and black hat standing in the middle of the alley, squinting his eyes like he's half-blinded.

She steps forward in a half daze, drawing the knife. Er... More like a short sword.

And stabs.

At the air to his side, staring at something not quite here. She swipes up and over and down and under in a rough circle.

And then, shake off the daze. 

"The rift will remain open for a time... Ah. You should be able to understand me."

People do not last long in the Nightside if they just let people stab them, and John is no exception. Half-blinded he may be, that's still enough to leap backwards, elbows aimed to catch anyone behind him sharply. He finds only air there, though, and sees this lady with a fox mask finish her motion as a circle rather than an attack, so apparently this situation is not actually a mugging. And then she talks about a rift, and everything becomes clear. Fucking chaos butterfly.

"Excuse me, any idea how long that rift will last?" John inquires. Obviously he doesn't want to leave himself stranded here, but he doesn't exactly want to deal with the Authority's questions about the incident right now either. 

"It is oft difficult to tell. More than some hours. Perhaps a few days..."

She circles a patch of air that does not appear to have anything special about it. If he's particularly observant he might notice something odd about how the robes are moving.

"More days than hours. It punches straight through the Spirit Realm and off into places I cannot see, or at least, that the goddess does not design I see..."

John's eyes have adjusted to the light now, and he always keeps his situational awareness up in unfamiliar situations. Her robes are moving oddly how, exactly?

If this rift is going to last for entire days he might want to stick around and keep an eye on it, make sure the Nightside doesn't leak out too much. No place deserves that. 

"Yeah, the Nightside's pretty dark. Thanks for telling me about the rift, though" John replies

There's a subtle bulge up the back, with a few accoutrements and decorations - embroidery, ribbons - designed to break up the suspicious shape. Possibly a concealed weapon and/or appendage. Also, they seem heavier than ordinary cloth, falling straighter and steadier where they dangle, not trailing in the air or with motion as much.

She turns to face him, mask still on.

"Galasa sent me here, specifically, and I believe it was not merely to tidy up the edges of that rift."

"So why did she send you here, and why are you telling me about this?" John asks. 

"Sometimes the designs are obvious; A man has disappeared this very morning, the guard is meant to kill monsters and not investigate crimes, and I am not skilled in that particular skill myself. Are you an investigator of sorts, sir?"

There it is, that's how circumstances are conspiring into making him take yet another damn unpaid job. He sighs internally and answers with a professional voice

"Yes, I'm John Taylor, private investigator. Why don't you show me to the last place this man was seen while you tell me about him?"

She will nod firmly and start walking. Out the alley, down the street. It's a vaguely-medieval pastiche, though very much on the nicer side of that. No street lights, but it's clean. Glass windows, wrought iron fences, nice cobblestone street. A solid majority of people are human but there are a few lines of standouts; Furred and snouted and tailed hyena-people, scaled lizard-people, and humanoids with great feathery wings are the most common.

"Archibald Gassul is a local wizard who has lived in the same house here, in Grissom's Rest, for eleven years or thereabouts. He makes and sells scrolls for a living, pre-completed spells that are easier and faster to use than casting the ordinary way. I do not know him well, I have seen to him at services but not otherwise. He was last seen entering his home last night around dusk, by a neighbor, Lorai-Neits. He was reported missing when his housekeeper, Hans of no family name, attempted to enter to receive his weekly pay, and found the home empty with half completed wizardry work on the desk. That's notable and what makes us believe that something has happened- He is notorious for NEVER leaving a messy desk, and carefully guarding his notes and research."