It was different than she was used to. Not bad, gorgeous actually! But different. The area could hardly be called mountainous, but it was a far cry from the flat plains she was used to. The soil was darker, damp but not soaked. It smelled rich. Moss grew over the dirt, the rocks, the trees, bathing everything in further shades of green.
While she’d certainly seen a forest before, the trunks here were thicker, older, wilder. There was no even spacing that marked man-made forests, no limbs cut short for power lines, just a criss-cross so dense that even though leaves were only just starting to regrow, there was as much shade as sun. Avery paused to set her hand on one, bark rough under her hand. She had to wonder, was there any magic in these? Or maybe they were just relatives of trees further in, trees no doubt soaked in magic. Perhaps they, like her, had just enough in them to look a bit impressive and nothing else.
Not that she looked particularly good, nor particularly bad, in her opinion. She was pale other than the dusting of freckles across her face and arms. Her hair was a sun-bleached shade of brown. Thin, but tied in a low ponytail that reached mid-back. A bit of the scrawny side (though not as much as before she got on medication), and some people called her short, but she was perfectly average height, thank you!
So yes, she would’ve been the type to be overlooked entirely if not for her vibrant green eyes. Bright enough to see across the room, deep as the depths of the woods right around the pupil. Supposedly, evidence of some magic somewhere in her ancestry. It was something that mattered a lot when you were a kid in a small town, but very little to any employers with jobs worth taking. For all she knew, it was just a genetic joke, especially given that she needed glasses (though she thought the big, round frames suited her).
It wasn’t a walk to the old coffee shop, but the practical part of her still worried. It wasn’t clearly visible from the road, and would anyone really be willing to go out of their way to come in? Maybe in the past, or maybe under Chryssa, but could she get them in now? She couldn’t help but fear she’d gotten in over her head.
Especially as she got to the building and found it, well…
If anyone asked her to her face, she’d say it had a rustic charm. But that was also a nice way of saying Avery really hoped this place had air conditioning. She supposed she’d find out soon enough though. Thankfully, she’d made sure the place had electricity and water coming here (that wasn’t a lesson that needed learned twice).
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It looked like the building had been pink, once, but the paint had all but peeled off. One of the front windows was so cracked it looked like a poke would disintegrate it. Others were so dirty it barely mattered how intact they were underneath. A sign reading swung slightly in the wind, threatening to whack Avery as she tried desperately to get the door unlocked.
She swept the door open and was met with the sound of panicked squeaks and tiny claws scuttling. Tiny droppings littered the floor. The whole place smelled stale with a side of mildew, which made sense. Paperwork hadn’t been instant, after all, and no one was here in the time between. Still, the walls had cracks, patched of mold stained the wood, and there were plants growing through some of the boards. She wasn’t an expert, but there was no way this all happened just from a few weeks of weathering. With a sigh, Avery propped the door open with a chair and found a window or two that she could open.
“Guess Chryssa pretty old.” She rubbed a hand on the inner walls, cream-colored paint flaking off under her touch. “She couldn’t take care of you, could she? Poor thing.” Still, this seemed like a of damage.
Though on closer inspection, it wasn’t bad. The glass display case needed a good scrub, but was otherwise in perfect shape! And other than a few nibble marks, so was the counter. The metal tables and chairs were discolored, but still perfectly usable. There was even a cash register, one modern enough to be partly digital, albeit without touch pads or internet.
But what was most important was the counter. An oven, a stovetop, some counters, a fridge, and a large, vintage coffee machine made of tarnished copper. It even seemed to have beans, and, um… switches? And… some tubes? Um…
Well, that was fine! She could figure out how to work the blasted thing later. It wasn’t like she was much of a coffee person herself, gave her the jitters. That said, she use a cup of tea.
Avery rummaged through her suitcase until she reached her trusty electric kettle. “C’mon, let’s see if the electricity works.” There was a little sink in the back wall. The water spurted and let out a bit of brown, but soon was running clean and clear. She filled it up and plugged it in next to the coffee machine. “Guess we fit right in.” The old thing was stained with oil and other kitchen debris, but still worked good as new.
With a little looking around, she found some mugs in the counter, washed one, and put two bags of Breakfast Tea in it. With the day she was about to have, she needed it bitter enough to knock a lesser man out. With that, she tightened her ponytail and started attacking the floors with a broom. The water beeped, she poured it, and onto the counters while that steeped.
It was almost like magic how the simple act of putting on a cup of tea made it so much easier to start things. Or anything that involved waiting, really, but tea was her favorite. A little boost in and of itself, pushing her to get moving.
By the time the counters were clean, the tea was probably over-steeped by most people’s standards, but perfect for her. She ran just enough cold water to sip at it, relishing the soothing burn against her throat.
Focus on the bitter smell, not the mildew. Focus on the warmth on her hands, not the cracks in the walls. Focus on the tea, not on how much there still was to do. Focus on the-
“MEEEEEEOW!”
Cat?
Avery stared as a cat darted in, screaming, like a wolf was after it. There was a crash, wood splintering, and-
“GRIMHOUND!”
Real Tea: months. The scratching kept me up at night. I was told to just ignore it. Couldn't do much because the closet was full of their things. One day they had to get something out from the back of the closet and were to find mouse droppings everywhere.
-w-
On a more positive note, I swear by starting a task with waiting time to get everything else done. "Start by 6:00 and work for twenty minutes?" Nope, time is too made up for that. But get thirsty and put a kettle on? Might as well sweep while I'm waiting for that to boil. Baking something? Guess I should do the dishes while I'm in here. Not sure if this is a me thing or a general hack, but if it works, it works.
I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi? (Well, if I could get the link to work. See the top author's notes)