Three Goblin Art
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
blake kathryn
$LAYYYTER
todays bird
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Not today Justin
Mike Driver
Kaledo Art
ojovivo
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Stranger Things
trying on a metaphor
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Xuebing Du
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Product Placement
@theartofmadeline
taylor price
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@desmotsnondits
Walking through the picturesque streets of Cardinal Hill, you find Hercule Boisseau, the 42 year old choreographer at the enchantment theater and dance teacher at stream studio originally from Paris, France. Living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they’re compassionate and perfectionistic, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something...
The question landed heavier than she expected, her chest tightening as though he’d pressed a bruise she hadn’t wanted touched. What brings you back? If only it were that simple...
For a few beats, she couldn’t even look at him—grey hues dropping to the swirl of steam rising from a nearby mug on the counter, watching it curl and vanish like the traces of the life she’d run from. Last year came back sharp and unwelcome: first the sting of jungle vine and the taste of blood as she ran, heart daring to beat out of her chest with every barefooted step; then the embassy halls that smelled of bleach and parchment, hands shaking as she signed documents declaring her fit to return stateside; and lastly the way the plane home felt more like exile than return, how she felt like a foreigner in her own country as the wheels touched down on the tarmac... She hadn’t come back because she missed Cardinal Hill or even because she missed the Pacific Northwest. She’d come back because she had nowhere else left to run. Her throat bobbed with the effort of swallowing down all those unwanted memories; and when she finally found her voice, it came out smooth, practiced. “Guess I just… missed home, y'know?” Addie shrugged, forcing a small half-smile to make it sound easy. The pause that lingered before her answer told another story; but she pushed past it, lips curving faintly as if the lie tasted better dressed up as nostalgia. After all, she was simply talking with a stranger at a café, not someone from her past who knew her better than she knew herself.
Her attention shifted gratefully when he teased about her keen ear for his accent, her expression loosening into something more natural, neutral. “I’m a dancer... Well, was a dancer.” The correction came out quick, sharp—as if saying it out loud still had the power to sting. As if on cue, that old lingering pain shot up from her foot, causing a visible wince as more unwanted memories dared to resurface: the acceptance letter from the Seattle Ballet, her dreams shattering a week later much like her foot... Again, she swallowed them down, opting to then smooth over her words with a nonchalant wave of her hand, a half-laugh tugging at her lips. “My parents used to send me to these summer ballet intensives when I was a kid. One of the instructors was from Paris, used to train with the Opera Ballet and everything. Then he retired and came to teach down in San Francisco. I got pretty good at recognizing his accent after a few summers... Though, to be fair, I’m far better at recognizing it when it’s attached to someone yelling corrections across a studio.” Her voice softened at the memory, filled with both a fondness and a faint bitterness.
The intensives had been some of the only times her parents had ever supported her dream of becoming a professional ballerina, even if there support only carried on paper. At the time, Addie had clung to it as proof they cared, that maybe they believed in her dream. But hindsight was a cruel mistress; and she was now 99% certain those summers were less about nurturing her passion and more about shipping her off so she was out of their way.
hercule can tell instantly that his question has a less than desired effect based on how the woman reacts. he feels regret in the pit of his stomach as he watches her face drop, avoiding his gaze as she speaks. it was meant to be an innocent question, but he can tell that he hit something sensitive, maybe something she doesn't want to talk about. he understands that, since his retirement he's felt a bit like he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop. the general public knows that he was hospitalized, that much is true, but his eating disorder isn't public knowledge. stepping away from dancing has allowed him to recover a lot, but sometimes he feels like his secret will come out at any second. if it ever is public knowledge, he'd likely be the recipient of his mother screaming at him in french over the phone. the thought isn't a pleasant one.
"i miss home too, cardinal hill is a lot smaller than paris." he sighs, a bittersweet smile on his face. "but, i think it's nice here. small towns, they have a certain...je ne sais quois, if you know what i mean. big cities, there's a lot of people, only a handful of people really know you. i feel more known here than i think ever did in paris." everyone here has felt so much more personable to hercule, like they actually care about him. he couldn't say the same for his hometown, whether it was a random passerby, dance instructor, fellow dancer, or even his mother, he didn't really feel cared for.
"if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you a dancer anymore? i know a thing or two about that, i was a dancer too. i've been retired for a few years now, i don't know how long it's been for you." his question comes out of curiosity, he knows there's a variety of reasons to step away from the stage. he did step away for health reasons, but he doesn't know if that's the same for this woman. if hercule had it his way, he would have kept dancing, but he also knows that's not very plausible for dancers at his age. it was grueling and took a toll on the body, he was lucky that he was able to dance until age 37. it was rare for dancers to hit 40 and still be performing, but part of him felt like he let himself down in some way. his body literally gave out on him, so it wasn't anything he could have controlled, but it's still a feeling he can't shake.
"i hope that you're finding your time in cardinal hill enjoyable, i know that i am enjoying all of the fall colors we're getting now. do you know if there's a pumpkin patch in town? i've never been to one, but i'd love to go."
"half and half it is. and don't worry, he'll get over it especially when you praise how delicious it is." eve watched as he tried the lemonade, laughing softly as they watched his reaction. "too sweet? I thought we might have put a bit too much sugar but now I know. I appreciate that honest feedback, hercule. we might have to put you up on the wall as customer of the month," they teased. not that anything like that existed. only in eve's mind where they kept track of which customers they did and did not like. there were some regulars that annoyed the shit out of eve but they were loyal so eve stayed friendly. others were much easier to get along with and it made eve truly feel like their effort was worth it.
eve took a moment to put hercule's order in before taking the seat across from him. "and how's the dancing world these days, hm? staying busy?"
"i don't think i can even taste the blackberry it's so sweet." he confirms, awkward smile on his face. hercule is no stranger to sweets, or american lemonade for that matter, but he knew that this had too much sugar in it. the flavor of the lemons was more of an afterthought at this point and the blackberry--well, it might as well not even be in the drink. but, the cafe was still experimenting with the drink, he had faith that they would figure out the right recipe in due time. "do you have water or maybe some kind of iced tea? i want to wash the taste from my mouth."
"oh, there's not much to tell, really." it's the truth, even if it is a bit evasive. "i have the classes i teach. i get new students every now and then but we don't really put on performances or anything like that."
As Hercule complimented him, Felix felt the tips of his ears turn red. He’d been getting better at accepting compliments–courtesy of Leo–but it was still difficult for him at times, especially when face-to-face with such a wonderful baker. Really! Those scones were out of this world, he’d thought with reverence.
Still smiling, Felix nodded as Hercule agreed to the swap. His cheeks were still warm, but he extended one hand, the other cradling the box of baked goods like a little offering. “Oh, it’s alright,” he said, head tilting slightly, voice light with humor. “Can’t say I’ve done many formal pastry handoffs myself, so I guess we’ll just see how this goes.”
“So,” he started after the exchange had occurred, “How are you liking it in Cardinal Hill so far? I was born here, then spent a few years in New Mexico...well, more than few, eighteen years, actually. But I moved back when I turned eighteen. I really like it here, even if New Mexico is still home.”
he takes the box from felix's extended hand, looking down at the muffins with a smile. based on the care in the packaging, hercule could tell that this correspondence they had meant just as much to felix as it did to him. it felt nice, knowing that a small gesture brought passion and joy to another person, even if it was just one person.
"i hope that i can look forward to many more pastry handoffs in the future." he states, giving felix a warm smile. "oh, while cardinal hill is smaller than what i am used to, i find it lovely. the coziness of a small town is almost romantic, but maybe i just feel that way because i'm used to such a big city."
"what brings you here after all this time then? did you miss it or was there a specific reason you returned?" shortly after finishing his inquiry, hercule realizes they're still in the doorway of his apartment. he steps to the side and gestures inward. "would you like to come inside? we can keep talking, i can brew some tea. i might even try one of your muffins right now while i'm at it."
Her laugh came quick, a little breathy, like she was shaking something loose. “Yes and no. I mean, I grew up here; but, like, I left after I graduated high school. Only been back—” Addie stopped herself, words snagging in her throat as her mind slipped sideways. This time last year, she’d been plotting every angle of escape, her nights spent imagining what freedom would feel like, what it would feel like to be stateside again after so long. The fact she hadn’t even been free a full year yet pressed heavy at her ribs like a bruise. She blinked, steadying herself with a drag of air, letting the pause dissolve into a shrug. “—I got back last December." She finished, tone light, as if the stutter hadn’t meant anything. Slender fingers drummed against the counter, quick and restless, before curling around the strap of her bag like some sort of anchor.
Her gaze slid back to the man, a smirk tugging at her mouth as though she could trade the heaviness for something easier. “You’re clearly not from here, monsieur. What’s that—Parisian?” The tease carried warmth; but her eyes were keen, genuinely curious. She'd spent some time in Paris. It was brief, but memorable. Looking back, she wished she'd lingered in the city longer, at least made the time to see a performance or three at the Paris Opera. Another beat passed before she tipped her head toward the cluster of empty tables. "I won't say no to good company. Beats dining alone like a total loser." All she had to do now was order her own sandwich; and once both their meals arrived, they could find a place to sit and eat.
"what brings you back to town? anything in particular, or did you simply miss home?" he inquires, head cocking to the side as he speaks. having grown up in the same city, hercule found it interesting to hear about other people's experiences. sure, he had travelled around most of europe, but living in an entirely different place was still new to him. cardinal hill certainly wasn't as big as paris, but he'd come to appreciate the coziness that came with the small town.
he gives a chuckle, gasping in feigned shock and clutching a hand to his chest. "you've discovered my secret, madame!" he exclaims dramatically, before dropping the act entirely. "in seriousness, you have a keen ear. have you known other people from paris or are you just familiar with the accent?" within a few seconds, the order he placed comes out and he locates an unoccupied table, making his way over and gesturing for addie to follow his lead. "eating in company is always better than eating alone, i agree. makes the world feel a little less lonely, if you know what i mean."
The more they talked about the menu, the hungrier Copper became, and his stomach actually growled loudly enough that he could hear it. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m ordering food,” he commented with a laugh, his hand on his stomach. Nodding as he listened to the other man, Copper agreed, “Yeah, it really depends what you’re in the mood for. Like do you want a full lunch or just something light, you know?” Copper was here for the cheese danish though; even if he got other food, he wasn’t leaving without one of those. He pointed at one - the last one - in the display case, licking his lips. Then he panicked, asking the other, “You didn’t want that too, did you?”
As the man thanked him, Copper smiled. “It’s seriously no trouble,” he said. “I love food, so I’m always happy to talk about it.” He held his hand out and shook the other’s as they introduced themselves. “It’s nice to meet you, Hercule,” Copper said. “And yes, I did pick up on the accent. I had a friend in college from France, so I was kind of familiar with it from that, though it’s been years since I’ve gone there myself. Paris is lovely though, especially in the evening. I guess they call it The City of Lights for a reason, right?” He grinned, laughing a little, and then it was their turn to order. After placing his order, Copper answered, “I’m from Maine, so not nearly as exciting as Paris. Have you ever been there? And what brings you all the way here from Paris?”
hercule holds up his hands in mock defeat, giving a light laugh as the other man panics. "no no, mon ami! the danish is yours, i assure you, i am fine." he looks over the pastry display, nothing catching his eye as he gives it a quick once over. hercule never really had much of a sweet tooth himself, though sometimes he wondered how much of that was learned. "i think i am going to be sticking with just the sandwich for today."
he practically feels his ears perk up as copper mentions having a french colleague, immediately intrigued. "you have a colleague from france? what do you do for work, if you don't mind my asking?" upon being asked why he left france, hercule's attitude deflates slightly, his tone a little less enthusiastic and smiles a bit more forced. he didn't like talking about his retirement, even though it had happened years ago at this point. "...i changed careers and paris was no longer a good fit for me. i thought that moving to a new place might help me with the transition."
"everything works out in the end and if it doesn't, then it's not the end."
-hercule boisseau moodboard (1/?)
His smile lit up as the other introduced himself, but it also reminded him he’d totally forgotten to do the same. Just jumped headfirst into talking, as usual. The tips of his ears turned an unmistakable pink as he laughed softly and said, “Brilliant! I’m Felix!” His eyes flicked toward the paper box and his grin only grew. “Lemon lavender? I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m not asking questions,” he added, a little dramatic hand to the chest accompanying the laugh. “And seriously, the texture on those scones? Like. Heavenly. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
He held out the little basket in his hands like it was sacred. “Cinnamon muffins! It just… felt like the right kind of day for them, you know? I’ve been pretending it’s fall ever since the mornings dipped below sixty-five.” A beat. “Well. Technically it only does that at two in the morning, but–details. I feel emotionally justified, really.”
His smile softened, eyes crinkling just a bit. “Nice to properly meet you, finally. It’s been really fun doing this whole little… baking relay.” He glanced down at the baked goods in both their hands, then back up with a mock-serious expression and a spark of playfulness. “So. Should we make this the official first trade-off? Like, a ceremonial pastry handoff? I’m talking eye contact, synchronized movement, possibly a tiny speech.”
hercule can't help but give a lighthearted chuckle. he'd met enough people at this point in his life that he knew that some, like felix, had a tendency to ramble. it didn't bother him, he could tell that his neighbor was genuinely just excited. "enchanté. your pastries are enough to warrant this, i think. after all, it seems that's been our method of contact until now." his eyes flick to the cinnamon muffins, and he waves a hand dismissively at the comment on his own goods. "the scones? you see, it's all about making sure the butter is very cold before adding it to the flour, i also try to handle the pastry dough as little as possible. if you put it in the fridge to chill before baking, you should get the same flakiness. i could show you sometime."
he tries not to be overly detailed in his explanation, he's sure that felix has enough experience with baking to understand. "you're too kind...but i suppose i knew that already. i love cinnamon, i'd say it's "fall" enough to use it for a flavor. i can't wait to try your muffins, they look delicious."
at the suggestion, hercule can't help but let out a fully-fledged laugh, a warm smile tugging at his lips, but he stops himself before it goes on too long. the last thing he wants is for felix to feel mocked for his suggestion, it had just taken him by surprise. "oui, absolutely! would you like do the honors? i have to admit, this is my first time doing a formal pastry handoff, so you'll have to excuse my lack of knowledge in the area."
Orla was in her own head, thinking of far too many things at once, when a voice called her back to the real world. Turning to face where the question was coming from, she blinked as if rebooting her system and pursed her lips. "I mean, you can never go wrong with the combination of mozzarella and basil." Shrugging her shoulders, she took a look at the menu. "It's summer, so I'd say go with the caprese."
She had no idea what she was planning on getting; that's why she had been standing there for far too long. "I was thinking of just a bagel with cream cheese, but now I'm second-guessing. Maybe I will get the mushroom and gruyere, and we can go halfsies?"
"yes, but what if i'm feeling adventurous? i've had the caprese sandwich before, so i already know what that's going to taste like." his brows furrow as he takes this into consideration. he knew that the caprese here always tasted good and fresh, and while he could just order that again, something different sounded nice this time.
"okay, that decides it. i will split my sandwich with you, but only if you let me pay. consider it my treat."
One nice thing about being a professor, he often had summers off to work on other projects around his home or occasionally just got out and enjoyed what the town had to offer.
Today, he had the newspaper in hand waiting in line at the local cafe when a friendly face spoke. “Hercule, how are you on this fine day?” He inquired as he thought about the question the other man presented. “Honestly, I am a soup man. I would go with the mushroom and gruyere. Although, occasionally I order a sandwich and soup and take home leftovers.” Beau responded, hoping he assisted the other.
"bonjour, beau!" he greets in response, pleased to run into the man. they had met a few times in town, hercule was happy that by now they had established a casual friendship. "i am doing well, just grabbing lunch before i teach my afternoon dance class. how are you today?"
"i don't think i'm ready for soup yet, it's still hot enough outside that i can barely think about eating it. the thought alone almost makes me start sweating. which soups do you like here? i'm curious to know for when it is colder."
"well you know I always say go for what you haven't tried yet. but I may be able to put in a good word, get you half of each," eve told him with a growing smile as they brought out one of their new lemonades for hercule to try. eve prided themselves on getting to know their customers, it was why they spent so much time behind the counter or helping out on the floor. they wanted to know why people liked the cafe, what made them come back and how they could make it a place people could keep coming to. "if you haven't tried the mushroom melt yet, I definitely recommend it. I mean I know melted cheese is always a good thing but the onions and the bread make it that much better. I recommend the sourdough or marble. or you could give pablo his favorite not so favorite order, mushroom melt on a baguette"
they set the lemonade down and slid it toward hercule. "would love to know what you think of that. blackberry lemonade. i'm playing around with it, not totally sold but it's kind of growing on me."
"c'est magnifique, i think that getting two halves is the perfect choice here. i must thank you for putting in a good word, i promise i'm a loyal customer." he puts his palms together in a mock prayer gesture to illustrate his gratitude. it was true that he had been coming to the ceramic cup since a few months into living in cardinal hill, the food was too good to keep him from coming back for long. "i have had the mushroom melt, though i have not tried it on a baguette yet. i may have to burden your poor associate pablo with that request in the near future, give him my condolences in advance."
he takes the lemonade from them, raising it like he's toasting before taking a sip. the sweetness immediately hits him, he does get notes of lemon and blackberry but it feels subdued from the initial sugary taste. hercule can't help but scrunch his face in mild shock, giving a quick "désolé." before explaining his reaction. "i think it's a bit heavy on the sugar, it would do well with more tartness from the lemon and i think the blackberry would come through more. it's not bad, just not what i expected."
The bell over the door gave a delicate jingle as she stepped inside, the scent of dark roast and toasted bread wrapping around her like a warm shawl; though unlike most days, it didn’t quite settle the prickle at the base of her neck. Something about that storm still clung to her like damp clothes she hadn’t managed to peel off. Her boots squeaked faintly against the tiled floor as she moved toward the counter, grey hues sweeping the room in that instinctual way one does to check for exits when the world feels off-kilter. Addie hadn’t planned on any actual conversation that day—she just wanted something hot in her hands and familiar in her stomach—but the voice beside her caught her off guard, foreign and accented.
She glanced over, lips twitching at the question. She was grateful for something mundane to focus on. “Mushroom and gruyere.” There was zero hesitance to her words, the answer soft but certain. “It’s kinda my go-to comfort sandwich. Hits the spot when the world feels a little sideways, y'know?” Slender fingers drifted to her necklace absently, the black tourmaline cool against her fingers, pulsating with that welcomed energy. “I was just about to order one myself. So if you’re into cozy, earthy, maybe a little decadent? Definitely go with that one. Otherwise, stick with the caprese. You can't strike out with anything on the menu.”
he nods as she speaks, comfort foods were always a good choice. mushroom and gruyere definitely evoked feelings of home for him, several bistros in paris had sandwiches very similar. it wasn't common for him to indulge in those kinds of foods when he was a dancer. but, he wasn't in that career anymore, so things were different now. "if it's your go-to sandwich here, it must be good. if it isn't, at least i know who to blame." he replies, giving a playful grin as he speaks. he places his order with little hesitation, feeling confident in his choice.
"are you from here? i don't know that i've seen you around." he doesn't recognize her face from his time in town, but it's possible that he didn't remember meeting too. the past 5 years felt like a blur to hercule, between his career ending and moving to a different continent. he did enjoy his life in cardinal hill, it felt nice to be able to live somewhere he didn't feel constant pressure. it almost seemed like for the first time, he could actually breathe. "i don't mean to impose, but would you want to eat together?"
Copper felt a little like he needed to wear a hook and sunglasses to come into The Ceramic Cup. That was ridiculous of course - just because he owned The Twilight Cauldron didn't mean he couldn't come into other establishments, even ones that were more or less direct competition. This wasn't some sort of Hatfields vs McCoys or Montagues vs. Capulets sort of situation. So in the end, he'd refrained from being dramatic about it and had gone into the shop wearing normal attire. The problem was that even though he owned a tea shop, Copper was actually a coffee person. It was his greatest secret (okay, not even close). Plus they had certain pastries at The Ceramic Cup that he didn't carry in his own shop, and that was definitely Copper's thing, so he was back in The Ceramic Cup even though he had said last time would be, well, the last time. Copper always said this, yet he always came back for more.
Standing in line (and silently chastising himself for the fact that he came in here enough for the barista to recognize him), Copper looked up at the menu, debating between a few different bakery items. There were so many options, and Copper had no idea which to get. Maybe he'd just get all of them. As he was looking though, a voice from his right distracted him. Turning in that direction, Copper saw an unfamiliar man, and he smiled. "I'll be honest, I've never had either here," Copper answered. "Usually when I'm here, I'm getting either a bakery item or sometimes the cucumber sandwich. The pesto is really what makes it so good. But I know gruyere and caprese are generally really good while mushrooms are gross, so I guess it depends on your feelings about the latter." Looking at the man, Copper tried to place him, but if he'd seen him before he couldn't remember. "My name is Copper by the way," he told the other. "Are you new in town? I've been here less than a year myself, so I'm still always meeting new people."
hercule considers copper's advice, head cocked to the side as he mulls it over. mushrooms were definitely a controversial choice, but it was one that he was okay with. he'd never understood the hatred for the fungi, albeit he had to admit they did have the tendency to be a bit slimy. he supposed that his fondness for them came from being raised with it, he'd long since grown accustomed to the texture and flavor that came from the food. "i haven't tried the cucumber sandwich, pesto does sound good." he muses, his gaze drifting back to the menu.
"i guess it depends on whether i want to have something on that's more fat-heavy today. the mushroom and gruyere sandwich would be heavier, i don't think i want that." with his decision made, he steps forward to the counter and places his order, glancing back at copper to give a small smile. "i appreciate your advice, not everyone would be willing to help a stranger decide on their lunch."
his expression brightens as copper asks him if he's new in town, hercule did always enjoy meeting new people. he found it interesting how even though he lived in a town much smaller than paris, it seemed that there were still people to meet. "i've lived here for two years in october. if you don't mind me asking, where are you from? i'm from paris myself, but i suppose the french accent may have tipped you off on that one."
✿ Closed starter for Hercule (@desmotsnondits) outside of his apartment.
The apartment smelled like brown butter, warm cinnamon, and anise. August seemed to bring something out of Felix. Sure, it wasn’t technically fall… yet…but he didn’t care. The sun was still stubborn in the sky, but the nights had finally dipped below sixty-five (only barely, and only after 2 a.m., but it counted in his book). And that meant it was time. Cinnamon was going into everything. Nutmeg was on deck. Plus, it was nice to have an excuse to bake. Not that he needed one.
Baking had always been second nature to him–something to do with his hands, to quiet his thoughts, to turn simple things into something warm and good. But lately? Lately there was extra motivation. A reason to pull out the good vanilla.
His neighbor.
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had started. One day he’d left a little box of brown sugar shortbread wrapped in wax paper and tied with twine outside their door. A few days later, something showed up at his door. And now Felix had spent a suspicious amount of time researching the exact flakiness of galettes or the science of the perfect chew in a brownie, and the two of them had been going back and forth, leaving treats at each other’s doorstep.
One of the neighbors asked if they were having the world’s most passive-aggressive bake off, but Felix hadn’t thought of it that way. He enjoyed this new activity between the two of them, which was why he was standing outside of the apartment, lifting his hand to knock, then the door opened. The Witch hadn’t expected that, and he jumped slightly.
“Oh! Hi! So sorry, I didn’t realize you were on the other side of the door. I was just bringing over these,” he lifted a small basket of cinnamon muffins toward the other, “Just a nice treat, really. You can never get enough cinnamon, especially when the weather starts getting cooler. What have you been baking lately?” His grin was wide–and he didn’t realize that he’d started getting dangerously close to rambling-Felix.
hercule remembered the first time he had found pastries on his doorstep like it was yesterday. the sight of shortbread cookies sitting in front of his door warmed his heart and he knew he had to return the favor. baking was a hobby that hercule took comfort in after retiring from ballet. he found that there was something soothing about measuring out the ingredients precisely to create something delicious. plus, he'd been doing it for enough years at this point that he had gotten rather good at it.
he had left blueberry scones as a gift in return and he was left with new pastries shortly after, and a sort of relationship developed from there. hercule had to ask around a bit to find out which apartment belonged to his mystery friend, but it was worth it to him.
today, he had immersed himself in creating lemon lavender cookies, his way of hearkening back to the treat that started everything. as he works, he hums tchaikovsky to himself as he rolls a rolling pin over dough or measures the ingredients just so. shortly after he pulled the goods out of the oven, he set them inside a paper box with a plastic window, a grey ribbon affixing a sprig of lavender to a corner.
he holds the package in his hands, already smiling as he thinks about his neighbor seeing it in front of their door. it brings him joy that even if they haven't met each other yet, they both care enough about each other to carry on this little ritual. to hercule it felt a bit like they already knew each other, even if he didn't actually know what this person looks or sounds like.
"so you're the neighbor who's been leaving me baked goods." hercule smiles, kind twinkle in his eyes as he regards the person in front of him. he didn't expect this person to be outside his door right now, but it feels like fate that it happened this way. "i was wondering when we'd finally meet face to face. after all, we've been exchanging gifts for long enough now."
he cocks his head towards the paper box in his hands to answer the question. "they're shortbread cookies, lemon lavender. my name's hercule, by the way."
status: open @cardinalstart
where: the ceramic cup
the ceramic cup had become one of hercule's favorite spots in town. he'd tried most of their menu items and found all of them were rather tasty. today, he decided that it might be a good idea to go out for lunch rather than cook at home. he just wasn't in the mood to make something himself, so what better place than a local cafe?
he stared at the menu, pondering if he should get something new or a dish he's already tried. soup doesn't sound appealing, given that it's summer in cardinal hill, so he think that a sandwich would be a good choice. but now he faced the biggest question yet: which sandwich? he turns to the figure next to him, hoping they might have some input.
"pardon, do you have a preference between the caprese and the mushroom and gruyere? i haven't tried the latter, but i know the caprese is good. i was hoping you might help me decide."
status: closed @touchofmxgic (for noelle)
where: in the shared hallway of the apartments
hercule had found in recent years that he enjoyed performing random acts of kindness, his usual being freshly baked pastries left on a doorstep. he left a short note with the containers, typically along the lines of "hope you enjoy this! ton ami, hercule". he never expected any praise for it, it was just his own way of brightening someone's day.
he hadn't met his next door neighbor yet, maybe because their schedules just so happened to align that way. he knew that he had left this particular neighbor pastries before and judging by the way they were always gone when hercule returned, he held a quiet belief that they enjoyed them. today, he noticed the neighbor in the shared hallway and decided to introduce himself. "bonjour, mon ami!" he greets, tone cheerful, a smile on his face. "i don't believe we've met before. my name's hercule, i live in the apartment right next door to you." he pointed towards his door to illustrate which apartment was his.
Open starter for @cardinalstart Location: Outside the Cardinal Hill Liquor Store
Andrei left the liquor store empty handed and annoyed. He’d had no problem buying alcohol in Cardinal Hill up until this point. So it came as some surprise when he’d been ID’ed attempting to buy a bottle of vodka to bring home with him. Remarkably he still had his Soviet ID on him but the document proved to do him no good. Despite his attempts at translating his ID and pointing out the very clear spot that showed his birthday being January 8th, 1970 the cashier wasn’t willing to accept it as a valid form of ID despite it being all he had on him.
Andrei was ready to head home with nothing until he saw someone approaching the liquor store and he saw his opportunity. “Pardon me,” he began getting the person's attention before they entered the shop. “Can you help me please?” He asked as he looked towards the liquor shop. “They will not accept my ID and I am wanting to buy alcohol,” he explained. “I am twenty-one but not American,” he added in case the person cared though he was sure his thick accent gave that away. Andrei was willing to show them his ID too if they needed it but he hoped that only this cashier was strict about this and maybe he would be believed to be the age he was.
hercule had just been going about his day, running errands and the like. he knew cardinal hill well enough at this point that he had routine for days like this, first plinth family drugs, then green thumb nursery, and so on. he didn't usually stop by the liquor store, as he wasn't someone who drank often, but today he stood outside, wondering whether he should pick up a bottle of wine. he's pulled out of his thoughts when the person speaks to him, eyes focusing on the man in front of him.
"i believe you." he states after a beat, briefly looking over the soviet id. being from paris, he's familiar with some of the european forms of id, though not all of them. he recognized enough to be able to tell that the other was indeed old enough to buy alcohol. "you should be thankful i don't work for immigration, you really should invest in an american id." a small smile tugs at his lips as he speaks, his tone light-hearted.
"what are you looking to purchase?"
