Never Give All The Heart @ellyngolightly-wcw - Tumblr Blog

Ellyn's lips thinned a fraction, wondering why her shadow was so interested in this man. He looked awfully sick.... Changeling she might be, suspicious and not a little cruel when push came to shove, but Ellyn was invested in other people's well-being. If Adam knew how many hungry people she fed free, he might not look as nervous. Ellyn's expression softened. "Bailiwick. Ah, area of interest. You're no trouble to me," she said, "Please, come in? Assistance is my bailiwick. Coffee on the house?"

There was a moment’s hesitation as Adam’s instincts told him to run. But she seemed–kind. If a bit out of place in a place such as this. She was…like someone had meticulously cut and pasted a paper doll from the Victorian era into the streets of San Francisco. She seemed poised; though–far from a flimsy doll. A doll with sharp edges.

Well, wasn’t that a noir concept.

“Ah–I don’t really drink…” A pause Bela Lugosi would’ve approved of. “Coffee. But–sure, I’ll come in…” He stretched a leg with care, hearing the joints creak, and glanced down, pausing with a squint. Were his eyes playing a trick on him or did there seem to be a shadow out of place down on the pavement? He shook off an uneasy sensation [doing so was always easy enough for the man whose emotions were dumped in a river a little ways back] and stepped forward, trying a smile. It hung like a drunk half-moon, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

“Thanks, though–” he took his smash-screened phone from his pocket with another grimace. “This thing basically only does work when plugged in…ah–I’m–” fuck. A name. He had to give her a name. Well, he didn’t have to, but heck, he was already here.

“Oz,” he offered vaguely. “I’m–I’m Oz.” Osiris.

ellyngolightly-wcw

If only she could train her shadow to heel. Ellyn eyed it and knew the little patch of darkness was being difficult on purpose. Oz, on the other hand, was not being difficult - just odd. Ellyn knew odd. Odd was rarely anything to fear, but it should be watched nonetheless.

Had she been privy to his thoughts, Ellyn would be pleased to know Oz thought her Victorian. Everyone expected people from the British Isles to be a bit Victorian. Despite being old when Victoria took the throne, affecting the prim, demure, industriousness of the era served Ellyn well.

Oz’s smile brought out the hint of a real smile to tug at the corner of Ellyn’s mouth, turning her prettiness into charm. “Like the wizard?” she asked. “I’m not a witch, good or bad. Just Ellyn.” She stashed the broom cozily behind a rustic display of wintry decorations that had no place in San Francisco: a sled, a pair of tired snow boots with fresh evergreen stuffed into them, an artistically battered snow shovel.

And there, on the door post just below eye level, was a small ankh in gold paint. It was between a circle and a stylized lily, and a half dozen other symbols marking the Farthest Field out as a place safe for the non-human population of the city. Ellyn held the door oprn but didn’t mention the signs. If Oz did’t know what they were she wasn’t about to tell him.

adam-wcw

Snorting faintly, “Oz” ran a hand through his hair and shrugged bony shoulders, his pale eyes darting toward the ground. “Nowhere near as magical. Or as much of a charlatan, thankfully…” Or he tried not to be, on that front. He smiled half-heartedly at Ellyn’s slight joke and rubbed an arm, absently picking at loose threads on his tattered sweatshirt. “Just Ellyn. Got it. S’a nice name though.” He glanced around Ellyn’s shop as he entered, eyes lingering on the darker edges of her domain. Far from Kansas indeed.

He paused, much harder, however, at the sight of the ankh, letting the golden image dance before his eyes. The dead man almost didn’t go further than where he stood rooted to the spot, reflecting on it–then the other symbols around it in the Field and the field of his vision, everything dancing in and out of focus as he turned from sigil to sigil.

“…Nice decor,” Adam offered as he sauntered in [the cautious slink of a stray cat making his way across the threshold], adjusting his hoodie strings. “Very, uh.” He tried to come u with something as grand and poised as Ellyn herself.

“Artsy.” Nailed it.

ellyngolightly-wcw

Ellyn nodded, sly humor in her eyes where it hadn’t been a moment earlier. “Artsy keeps the yuppies coming back,” she confided. She watched his eyes linger on the ankh and considered Oz anew. The demigoddess Meres had painted the symbol there herself. Ellyn didn’t know he called himself Osiris, but someone who picked a name like that would certainly know what an ankh meant. Perhaps he simply thought she was one of the city’s multitude of neopagans.

She led him into the warm interior of the shop, past pretty baskets of produce so fresh it seemed fake (some of her customers paid their tabs in spells to keep her goods at the peak of perfection), bins on the wall tilted forward to display crisp, perfect loaves of bread, and shelves of sundries in glass and packages. “I cater to many people with special diets,” Ellyn explained.

(A discerning eye would note that all chocolate products were on their own little island away from everything else, fresh cloves of garlic rested in a glass container with a tight-fitting lid where they couldn’t touch the other produce, and the range of meats under glass at the butcher’s counter included plenty of game animals.)

“There’s a outlet under the counter here.” Ellyn pulled out a stool for Oz at the tiny cafe corner and slipped through the waist high swinging door to the other side of the counter. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink or anything to eat?”

#shhh you're fine!#I'm distracted myself #attempting to hunt down a book about Byzantium I read a chapter out of a year ago

adam-wcw

Ellyn's lips thinned a fraction, wondering why her shadow was so interested in this man. He looked awfully sick.... Changeling she might be, suspicious and not a little cruel when push came to shove, but Ellyn was invested in other people's well-being. If Adam knew how many hungry people she fed free, he might not look as nervous. Ellyn's expression softened. "Bailiwick. Ah, area of interest. You're no trouble to me," she said, "Please, come in? Assistance is my bailiwick. Coffee on the house?"

There was a moment’s hesitation as Adam’s instincts told him to run. But she seemed–kind. If a bit out of place in a place such as this. She was…like someone had meticulously cut and pasted a paper doll from the Victorian era into the streets of San Francisco. She seemed poised; though–far from a flimsy doll. A doll with sharp edges.

Well, wasn’t that a noir concept.

“Ah–I don’t really drink…” A pause Bela Lugosi would’ve approved of. “Coffee. But–sure, I’ll come in…” He stretched a leg with care, hearing the joints creak, and glanced down, pausing with a squint. Were his eyes playing a trick on him or did there seem to be a shadow out of place down on the pavement? He shook off an uneasy sensation [doing so was always easy enough for the man whose emotions were dumped in a river a little ways back] and stepped forward, trying a smile. It hung like a drunk half-moon, but it was an attempt nonetheless.

“Thanks, though–” he took his smash-screened phone from his pocket with another grimace. “This thing basically only does work when plugged in…ah–I’m–” fuck. A name. He had to give her a name. Well, he didn’t have to, but heck, he was already here.

“Oz,” he offered vaguely. “I’m–I’m Oz.” Osiris.

ellyngolightly-wcw

If only she could train her shadow to heel. Ellyn eyed it and knew the little patch of darkness was being difficult on purpose. Oz, on the other hand, was not being difficult - just odd. Ellyn knew odd. Odd was rarely anything to fear, but it should be watched nonetheless.

Had she been privy to his thoughts, Ellyn would be pleased to know Oz thought her Victorian. Everyone expected people from the British Isles to be a bit Victorian. Despite being old when Victoria took the throne, affecting the prim, demure, industriousness of the era served Ellyn well.

Oz’s smile brought out the hint of a real smile to tug at the corner of Ellyn’s mouth, turning her prettiness into charm. “Like the wizard?” she asked. “I’m not a witch, good or bad. Just Ellyn.” She stashed the broom cozily behind a rustic display of wintry decorations that had no place in San Francisco: a sled, a pair of tired snow boots with fresh evergreen stuffed into them, an artistically battered snow shovel.

And there, on the door post just below eye level, was a small ankh in gold paint. It was between a circle and a stylized lily, and a half dozen other symbols marking the Farthest Field out as a place safe for the non-human population of the city. Ellyn held the door oprn but didn’t mention the signs. If Oz did’t know what they were she wasn’t about to tell him.

bonniebenntt-deactivated2020090

as a woman, you feel that you shouldn’t want to better yourself against others. ambition has become such an ugly word, hasn’t it ?

gonna skitter away to get some foodstuffs, but I shall returnnnn~

#/ooc

Ellyn’s shadow is restraining itself from waving its hands over its head, pointing wildly at Adam, and miming violent deaths. But it likes his shoes enough that it’s going to let Ellyn figure things out on her own. ^^;

#/ooc