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First Scene
Jul. 15th, 2025 09:56 amMaya glared at the bottle, empty save for a thin line of deep amber shine at the bottom. It wasn’t as if she could will it into being full (self-refilling bottles were a waste of money; the stupidly expensive enchantments only made flat imitations of the real thing), but if it was alive, it’d be scared into trying like its life depended on it.
She gave a soft grunt of a hum as she turned to Astrophel. “Yup, we’re out.”
Astrophel looked up from the counter he’d been wiping down.
“What, even the pods?”
Maya nodded. He knew how precious she was with the actual vanilla, rationing it out to last through the whole season, if not longer. And, unfortunately, she’d used the last of those to make lava cakes for his birthday two weeks ago.
Astrophel sighed, running a hand between his charcoal black, ring-bedecked ramshorns, to rake through his short, shiny black curls, before tapping one ruby red finger to his ruby red cheek.
“And of course the shipment is late. Again.”
This months’ delivery of their special ingredients- refined sugar, whole spices, exotic herbs, extracts, pastes- should have arrived three days ago, but this was late even by the sailor’s standards. Maya’s boss was already composing a prim but stern message to the supplier in his mind, she could tell.
“Well, it’s not like business will come to a screeching halt, but…”
But a few drops of vanilla wouldn’t be enough for a batch of anything. The shortbread cookies Maya made that morning might have lasted the rest of the day, but neither of them wanted to chance it, the two of them glancing into the parlor to their one lone customer, a ghost town even by dead-hours standards. Tea was still a staple in the cities, especially a smaller city like Tallen, but ever since that blasted coffee shop opened right across the street, they needed a bigger draw.
Astrophel nodded to himself before opening the till outright and counting out coins, only a few gold to back up the handful of silver, before dropping them into a small leather pouch, drawing a quick anti-theft curse in the air above it in orange light, and held it out to her.
“Well, nothing for it. Just try to haggle this time; you know Wilhelm with add a smug old bastard tax.” His chagrined head shake stopped as he took in her cringe, and he sighed instead. “I know, I know… I will say you are improving. You haven’t gotten into any shouting matches lately, and it’s been, what, a year since you last… teethed?”
That he knew of…
Teething: the cutesy term he used for when the Wolf clawed its way to the surface. Most people knew that werebeasts transformed during full moons, or in great rage, or in fight-or-flight emergencies. What most didn’t know is that the Beast also woke in what it thought were fight-or-flight emergencies. Like panic attacks. It took weeks of training to go down into the cellar- cold, dark, not quite sure if the door would lock behind her- without nails and teeth growing sharp, and her go-to whenever a customer snapped at her was to flag down Astrophel and run into the alley to shove the Wolf down. The last close call was about three weeks ago.
Breathing helped. Mental math helped. Exercise helped. Casting helped. These days, she could at least fight the reaction down long enough to find somewhere quiet and alone before fur or claws sprouted, but her gums and fingertips still ached whenever her heart began to pound and her head filled with lightning clouds.
She gave a mulish nod anyway. It was as much control as she could ever hope for, even if it’d never be enough. And… he wasn’t wrong. As nice as staying in the kitchens, brewing tea and baking pastries, and never having to interact with anyone sounded, this was a social business. She needed people to like her. … Well, at least not hate her enough that they wouldn’t buy anything.
“See? There you go.”
Always so chipper. Astrophel added a few more silvers to the purse before holding it out again, flipping it into her palm to keep the anti-theft spell from activating. Maya slipped the leather cord over her neck as he slipped past her to the stoves.
“Here, you can swing by the bookshop on the way back. And I’ll make you some lavender chamomile, would you like a calming charm on top?” At her nod, he smiled a bit more surely. “You’ll be fine. If it helps, you can always pretend that you’re… well, me?”
Maya gave him her flattest grimace. Even if she wanted to pretend to be him, there was no way anyone could mistake her- a tall and gangly teenager, pale skin that always burned and freckled instead of keeping a tan, a limp, mousy brown braid, rarely calm enough to smile unless it was in the safety of the shop- for the infernus, brightly colored and dressed, quick to smile and laugh and only stopping in the safety between closing and opening.
“Not literally, just… think of what I’d do or say if I was in your shoes. Act like you’re a mediocre man who only thinks he’s very important!”
Her stubbornness melted. “You are important…”
She tried to keep the mumble casual, but she couldn’t help a pleased twinge in her chest as his smile quieted, down to a candleflame instead of the bright chandelier swinging for all to see.
“Well, thank you. The feeling is quite mutual.”
Both of them were quick to put the small moment aside as he traced the calming charm, the glyph painted with lavender light before it exploded, settled into the tea, pulsed and faded.
“There we are.” Astrophel poured a cup for himself too. “Just remember, take your time and breathe.”
She gave a soft grunt of a hum as she turned to Astrophel. “Yup, we’re out.”
Astrophel looked up from the counter he’d been wiping down.
“What, even the pods?”
Maya nodded. He knew how precious she was with the actual vanilla, rationing it out to last through the whole season, if not longer. And, unfortunately, she’d used the last of those to make lava cakes for his birthday two weeks ago.
Astrophel sighed, running a hand between his charcoal black, ring-bedecked ramshorns, to rake through his short, shiny black curls, before tapping one ruby red finger to his ruby red cheek.
“And of course the shipment is late. Again.”
This months’ delivery of their special ingredients- refined sugar, whole spices, exotic herbs, extracts, pastes- should have arrived three days ago, but this was late even by the sailor’s standards. Maya’s boss was already composing a prim but stern message to the supplier in his mind, she could tell.
“Well, it’s not like business will come to a screeching halt, but…”
But a few drops of vanilla wouldn’t be enough for a batch of anything. The shortbread cookies Maya made that morning might have lasted the rest of the day, but neither of them wanted to chance it, the two of them glancing into the parlor to their one lone customer, a ghost town even by dead-hours standards. Tea was still a staple in the cities, especially a smaller city like Tallen, but ever since that blasted coffee shop opened right across the street, they needed a bigger draw.
Astrophel nodded to himself before opening the till outright and counting out coins, only a few gold to back up the handful of silver, before dropping them into a small leather pouch, drawing a quick anti-theft curse in the air above it in orange light, and held it out to her.
“Well, nothing for it. Just try to haggle this time; you know Wilhelm with add a smug old bastard tax.” His chagrined head shake stopped as he took in her cringe, and he sighed instead. “I know, I know… I will say you are improving. You haven’t gotten into any shouting matches lately, and it’s been, what, a year since you last… teethed?”
That he knew of…
Teething: the cutesy term he used for when the Wolf clawed its way to the surface. Most people knew that werebeasts transformed during full moons, or in great rage, or in fight-or-flight emergencies. What most didn’t know is that the Beast also woke in what it thought were fight-or-flight emergencies. Like panic attacks. It took weeks of training to go down into the cellar- cold, dark, not quite sure if the door would lock behind her- without nails and teeth growing sharp, and her go-to whenever a customer snapped at her was to flag down Astrophel and run into the alley to shove the Wolf down. The last close call was about three weeks ago.
Breathing helped. Mental math helped. Exercise helped. Casting helped. These days, she could at least fight the reaction down long enough to find somewhere quiet and alone before fur or claws sprouted, but her gums and fingertips still ached whenever her heart began to pound and her head filled with lightning clouds.
She gave a mulish nod anyway. It was as much control as she could ever hope for, even if it’d never be enough. And… he wasn’t wrong. As nice as staying in the kitchens, brewing tea and baking pastries, and never having to interact with anyone sounded, this was a social business. She needed people to like her. … Well, at least not hate her enough that they wouldn’t buy anything.
“See? There you go.”
Always so chipper. Astrophel added a few more silvers to the purse before holding it out again, flipping it into her palm to keep the anti-theft spell from activating. Maya slipped the leather cord over her neck as he slipped past her to the stoves.
“Here, you can swing by the bookshop on the way back. And I’ll make you some lavender chamomile, would you like a calming charm on top?” At her nod, he smiled a bit more surely. “You’ll be fine. If it helps, you can always pretend that you’re… well, me?”
Maya gave him her flattest grimace. Even if she wanted to pretend to be him, there was no way anyone could mistake her- a tall and gangly teenager, pale skin that always burned and freckled instead of keeping a tan, a limp, mousy brown braid, rarely calm enough to smile unless it was in the safety of the shop- for the infernus, brightly colored and dressed, quick to smile and laugh and only stopping in the safety between closing and opening.
“Not literally, just… think of what I’d do or say if I was in your shoes. Act like you’re a mediocre man who only thinks he’s very important!”
Her stubbornness melted. “You are important…”
She tried to keep the mumble casual, but she couldn’t help a pleased twinge in her chest as his smile quieted, down to a candleflame instead of the bright chandelier swinging for all to see.
“Well, thank you. The feeling is quite mutual.”
Both of them were quick to put the small moment aside as he traced the calming charm, the glyph painted with lavender light before it exploded, settled into the tea, pulsed and faded.
“There we are.” Astrophel poured a cup for himself too. “Just remember, take your time and breathe.”
