currently recovering
from a hiatus.
Though her own persona which dwindled upon the remnants of her own thoughts as she chose that moment to wander almost aimlessly. Books were a tragic creation in which their writers chose that moment to etch thoughts and desires upon pages in which their own thoughts inevitably consumed them and only pinpointed and written within the duration of their own reality.
There was a visible pause as black cladded pumps now stood to a standstill, the owner of the very Louboutin’s paused to linger upon a series of books that stood in silence, seeking to be purchased.
Inhale.
Delicate digits that curved upon the very spine as the blade ran across the newly designed paperback cover, pausing once more before those dark obsidian orbs pulled away – along with her attention to the sound of an unrecognized baritone voice that echoed in her own ears.
/“Welcome.”/
As simple as a welcome was and perhaps in his nature something that now became of a custom to those who worked in retail; questioning and almost amused to the very manner in response to such a mundane and monotone.
Exhale.
Air that expelled through ruby red tiers and later brushed the lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand; cocking her head in one direction; eyes officially peeling away from the cursive script of the title before those emotionless features shifted in response.
“Ah, thank you.” A reply so simply as she acknowledged the coffee bearer. His very features recognized by her own memory and new found amusement. – yet visibly she was still quite stoic and calm.
Her own calm mannerism ever so evident in her cool response; she truly was very impassive.
“I have a question, good shop keeper.” Her voice quiet, though audible amidst her state of mind. “What would you recommend a politician? Perhaps a dictator? Something not of a best seller and something known to some I’d hope. Anything… interesting?”
Though her voice was audible, the sound itself that refused to match her own vocals. Scratchy and hoarse though her elegant features refused to suit such a songstress; she was the sea witch after all.
He could faintly remember having seen her face somewhere and somehow, but where? The Fable couldn’t really say. Instead, as she seemed to have her attention elsewhere, he sat down on his chair waiting for her to approach him. If even at all.
Then again, Won Bin was far from the perfect merchant. He had little to speak of in terms of social skills and he wasn’t a people’s person at all. Yet he managed to keep the book shop up and running, something to him as well sometimes seemed as a miracle.
“Ah, thank you.”
He nodded in response and picked up his cup of coffee. And at first he was sure she wouldn’t ask anything further. Or perhaps that was the only thing he had managed to read off her face, although wrongly. But so be it, he was after all a worker under the customer service, supposedly. As she called out to him, in a voice that did not match her looks in the slightest, he couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow.
“A politician or dictator?”, he paused, allowing the thought to be mauled over in his mind for a bit. Indeed what would one recommend to someone with only knowing the fact that the person was a person of powers, so to say. “That highly depends on the person.” He began and took a sip of his coffee. “I can think of several, one being The Grapes of Wrath.” He set down his cup of coffee and folded his hands together as he leaned over his wooden counter.
“Are you thinking of something in particular or are you simply curious?” he asked plainly, taking this time to look once more over her visage. Had become a tad senile or did he simply just not know who she was? Probably the latter he figured and awaited her answer, there wasn’t anything in particular to do besides such.
It was almost a convenience to find herself in a place that was, most definitely not her humble and closed doors of her happy confinement; her laboratory. The art of potionry manipulated into the mundane world into that of chemistry. Those elegantly manicured digits twitched, folding into small fists upon her tabletop. Eventually the grand woman stood to her feet, dark suede heels clicking against the marble flooring of her own office before she exited the room.
With a dark jacket that hugged her petite frame; locks that curled upon her sides and swayed in the movement of her own footsteps. She was, elegant by all means. Dressed in the top class of all things that were fashionable. Though no smile lingered upon those features, the brightness of her own visage revealed elsewise. Kindness was an adjective misplaced upon her skin. She was a bitter woman with no desire to appear as happy and as jolly as the season foretold. She was, quite the opposite.
Now the elevator she now stood in, brought her to the ground floor; the ding alerted her attention yet she made no visible notice of the notice. Walking outwards and paying no attention to the employees’ who’s heads now bowed in sequence. But alas, as she stepped out through those doors did the rest of the building rejoice. The foul witch had finally disappeared, and peace was now restored. At least, until a new day.
Snow crunched beneath the footing of the woman in question. Snow and grime that clung to boots that were perhaps as expensive as her entire attire in question. Now entering into the sleek black car that waited for her and drove as soon as her form was situated and seated in such away that car drove calmly without a single hair upon the hood of her jacket twitch.
Moments after, the witch raised a leather gloved hand, halting the car soon after. “Stop here, I have to make a visit.”
West of the Moon.
A store that was, perhaps in all her manner unfamiliar and strangely open. Opening the door with a push of a button, the fashionable witch stepped outside her confinement once more and out into the open world of the cold. A shiver ran up the woman’s spine as palm pressed against the glass of the door and pushed open the door of the bookstore. Though the shopkeeper was momentarily absent from their throne of a post — and she was free to wander about the store. For now.
A bookstore? How strange, was her response. Questionable as those blank features continued to observe the entire area; a gaze so observant yet strangely emotionless. To the sounds of footsteps, did she choose not to raise her head to answer.
The december air was cold beyond belief, leaving the dark haired fable to pull his jacket closely around himself. Trudging through the snow he mentally thanked himself for finding an apartment close to the shop itself. Although he had moved around a few times, simply to avoid the prying eyes of the mundanes. Though his dark circles were heavily framing his face and general appearance, there was no doubt in his stride.
Fearless and confident, just as it had been back in the Homelands, it was the walk of royalty no doubt. His appearance lacked the character but his aura and speech was no doubt that of a King. Sighing, he took out his keys and unlocked the door under the sign of his own book store. West of the Moon. Maybe it was ironical that the store was named after his own fable, though nothing seemed to fit better than it. He simply couldn’t name it otherwise, no matter what he attempted.
He pushed the door open, welcoming the warmth and smell of books that washed against him. Flipping the sign to read ‘open’ he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it over his chair. The dark haired cracked his neck once, the fatigue from yesterday lack of sleep making his joints stiff. “I’m like an old man.”, he muttered to himself before making his way to the back. Sitting in the book store meant the fable required two things; coffee and something to read.
The book was already on the counter from yesterday which meant he only needed his coffee. He pushed the white door open, flicking the lights on and grabbing the pack of coffee from the table, filling it up, adding water and pressing the on button. It didn’t take long before the brown liquid filled up the mug, as well as filling the small kitchenette with the coffee aroma and moving out to the shop itself.
Just as he filled his mug, the bell in the front went off, alerting him of a new customer. But at the first step he took he froze unintentionally. 'Fable.’ He let out a sigh before resuming his step and walking to the front. Why did it seem that almost all his visitors and customers these days were fables? Maybe because he joined the Good after a lot of thought?
He shrugged the thought away. “Welcome.”, he called and made his way back to the front, coffee cup in hand. His steps made the floor emit a noise with each one until he sat back on his place. “May I be of help?”, he questioned as of habit to the female further away. He drew a hand through his hair, watching the emotionless female fable looking around his store.
