here’s my piece for @sad-arcana-au ‘s apprentice swap of @moxy-fruitbat ‘s apprentice laurene! this was really fun 2 draw and I hope you like the way it came out uwu (and thank you to sad-arcana-au for organizing it!!)
"I know you didn't want anything big for your birthday, so I thought you'd like to just stay in?" Laurene stammered, her face growing as red as Muriel's.
On the table is a plate of smoked eel, with wild mushrooms and a strusel made of foraged berries and beechnuts. Cozy blankets embroidered with sigils sit near the fire, inviting a cozy evening of just the two of them.
This is for @moxy-fruitbat, for her apprentice Laurene. It was supposed to be 500 words… but I suppose it got away from me a little. That explains why it took longer than I planned.
@i-am-arcana-trash, you’re next babe.
No warnings apply. 1623 Words
Laurene was nearly ready for the day. She’d already dressed and drawn on her usual cat-eye. As she braided her tawny hair, she watched Muriel dig through a basket of clothing. He stood up with a huff, broad shoulders bare to the world.
“What’s wrong?” Laurene asked.
“My cloak is gone,” he replied, scratching his shaggy head in frustration.
“I’m sure it’ll turn up,” Laurene said, reaching up to pat his shoulder. She was a round little witch, but Muriel was still much larger. Laurene hardly came up to his elbow.
Muriel slid a casual hand across her shoulders. “It’s warm out anyways,” he said.
“That’s the spirit,” Laurene replied, though she could see the disappointment in his face. She told herself that it would be worth it.
“Well, I’ll be back by nightfall,” Muriel said. He stooped to give Laurene a kiss on the cheek, then went out into the day.
Laurene waited for Muriel to leave, then dashed to the bed and lifted the mattress. There was Muriel’s cloak, but it hardly counted as a cloak anymore.
Laurene wasn’t sure how it happened. Perhaps Innana or her familiar, Philomena, had been playing with it outside and rolled too close the firepit. Perhaps Muriel had washed the cloak and left it by the fire to dry. Perhaps it had simply been blown by the wind. Whatever the case, Laurene had come home last night and found it smouldering one the ground, unbeknownst to its owner. The grey cloak was old, ratty, and far too small, but Muriel loved it.
She would make it right. Laurene shoved the cloak in her bag and left for the market.
It was September in Vesuvia; nearly Muriel’s birthday. It was warm outside, but autumn rains promised to come soon. After that, it would be a mild winter and Muriel would need his cloak.
As Laurene walked, she heard a familiar pur. She would recognize that sound anywhere.
The witch whirled around and planted her hands on her hips. There was a cougar stalking behind her, tail raised in a friendly greeting. Philomena was as solid and strong as Muriel; equipped with intense, yellow eyes. Her gaze fixed firmly on Laurene.
Laurene shook the cloak at the big cat. “Did you do this?”
Philomena tilted her head. Laurene sensed a negative answer.
“I believe you,” she said as she tucked the cloak back into her bag. “If I tell you a list, can you find some things for me?”
Philomena bobbed her head.
“Alright.” Laurene unfurled her list. “I need rosemary, an eagle feather, and pine boughs. Got it?”
The cat yawned, as if to sneer,”Is that all?”
“That’s all,” Laurene said. “I’ll meet you at the hut.”
Philomena bounded away, disappearing into the forest. Laurene went the rest of the way into town.
There was a vendor in the market who sold the strongest, most quality fabric in the land. Laurene had yet to purchase anything subpar from him, but he was a stingy man. He always asked a high price and drove a hard bargain.
The market was teeming with life, noisy with the chatter and hundreds of merchants and patrons. The little witch had to practically shove her way through the crowd.
The merchant recognized her from afar. He wore a smug grin.
“Well, well, well, back again I see,” he said as she approached. “Are you going to abide my prices this time, or are you just going to argue like a child?”
Laurene didn’t feel like doing the usual song and dance. “Please show me your wools,” she said.
“What? Speak up little girl, I can’t hear you.”
She was already getting irritated. “I said,” she began, “show me your wool.”
“Say no more,” the merchant said, dropping several bolts on the table between them.
Laurene inspected the goods, her eyes falling on a dusty shade of green that would suit Muriel perfectly. She reached out and felt the fabric, testing it’s stiffness with her fingers. It was heavy and sturdy; just what Muriel needed.
“Not your best,” she said. “What are you asking for this one?”
The merchant told her the price. Laurene scoffed. Even for him, that was high.
So the haggling began. Laurene told the merchant what she wanted to pay and he refused. Laureen dug her heels in.
“I’ll tell you what,” he finally said, “If you buy five yards, I give you another for free.”
Laurene was so frustrated, she thought she might cry. Her eyes prickled. The price was still too expensive. Laurene had walked away from this merchant before, but this was for Muriel. He deserved something nice.
“Fine,” she growled.
Laurene paid, tucked the roll of fabric under her arm, and went to pick up the rest of her supplies. She rushed back to the hut. Muriel would likely stay out all day, but she was losing time.
Philomena was already waiting beside the fireplace. Laurene had to hurry if she was to finish the cloak in time.
Laurene set to work with an enchanted needle. She used the ingredients Philomena brought her to make a mystic brew, tossing in black and grey embroidery floss. Philomena watched, twitching her long tail, as the witch toiled herself up to a fever.
She finished with moments to spare. Laurene washed the cloak in her brew, then hung it up a safe distance from the fire. She cast a breeze to make it dry faster, then rolled it up and stashed it away.
It was sunset when Muriel returned. Inanna trotted along after him, tongue lolling to the side. The giant man walked with an exhausted stoop, his bare skin pink with sun exposure. Laurene winced at the sight of him.
“Oh darling,” Laurene cooed, “come inside. I’ll rub some balm on you.”
Muriel sat on the floor with a sigh. Laurene worked balm into his irritated skin with gentle fingers. The muscles in his back and shoulders were firm from a lifetime of hard work. The stress he carried through the day made him feel tense. Her eyes barely registered all of the scars that crossed his flesh, now that she’d seen them so many times.
Inanna laid beside Philomena in front of the fireplace. The cat shifted, curling around the smaller creature. Inanna gave a contented huff.
“Better?” Laurene asked, resting her hands on his shoulders.
Muriel nodded, his eyes closed. He reached backward, took her by the wrist, and pulled her around to face him.
“What’s wrong?” Laurene asked.
Wordless, Muriel wrapped his arms around her hips and buried his face against her torso. He took a deep, long breath. She could feel the warm air through the fabric of her dress.
Laurene rubbed his head. “Rough day?”
He nodded.
“I have something that might make it better,” she said.
Muriel looked up at her, his square chin pressed against her belly. He looked tired, but his emerald eyes glittered with interest.
Laurene went to the bed and retrieved the cloak from under the mattress. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon. Muriel rose as she passed it to him.
She waited. Muriel stared at the package in the hands, holding it as if it was something delicate.
“Why so surprised?” Laurene asked. “It’s an early birthday gift.”
Muriel turned the package over, feeling it’s weight. “You didn’t have to,” he mumbled, casting his gaze aside.
“Can’t I get a birthday gift for my lover?” she asked. “Go on then.”
Muriel blushed, his lips pressed together. Laurene watched as he started prying the package open so, so carefully. He didn’t tear any paper. It opened like a lily in his hands and he caught a glimpse of the fabric, then shot Laurene a glance. He was wide-eyed with disbelief.
Laurene gave an encouraging nod.
Muriel handed her the packaging and unfurled the cloak. It was huge and heavy, trimmed with fabric recovered from Muriel’s old cloak. Grey and black sigils were embroidered along the edges, swirled like smoke against the green and grey.
“I don’t really know what happened to your old cloak,” Laurene said, “but it was ruined. I saved as much as I could.”
Muriel was wordless, still staring at the new cloak in front of him.
Laurene was starting to feel nervous. Perhaps it was an overstep. “Do you like it?” she asked.
Muriel lowered the cloak, feeling the soft inner lining with his fingers. “You made this?” he asked.
“Of course I did.”
“I… It’s…” Muriel opened and closed his mouth several times, like he couldn’t think of what to say.
Laurene waited.
“It’s… good,” he finally said.
“Good?”
“It’s perfect,” he said, finally looking at Laurene. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything, just put it on.”
Muriel tossed the new cloak around his broad shoulders. It fell closed around his chest; a perfect fit. The green was beautiful against his tanned skin.
Muriel held out his arms and examined the detailed work, still in disbelief. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s given me,” he said, his voice soft.
Laurene felt her heart break a little. Muriel deserved all the nice things in the world.
He reached forward, taking Laurene by the shoulders. “Thank you,” he said as he pulled her into an embrace. “Thank you.”
Laurene pressed her face to his warm skin and smiled against his chest. Muriel rested his cheek on the top of her head. The cloak fell about Laurene’s shoulders, covering them both. They were quiet for a moment.
Laurene pulled back to look up at him. “So, you do like it?”
Muriel chuckled, kissed her forehead, and pulled her against himself again. He never really told Laurene an answer, but she didn’t need one.
I honor of Muriel's birthday, I'm sharing my Spotify playlist inspired by him! It's full of songs that I feel either encompass Muriel really well, or are about how I/my apprentice feel(s) about him. I hope you enjoy!!
My voice cast for Apprentice Laurene is a combo of Elizabeth Mitchell and Emmylou Harris, if you're wondering why they show up a lot in there.
(Yes that's my real name please don't stalk me or steal my identity.)
Friends, Vesuvians, Countrymen...everyone give a warm welcome to Laurene, one half of the Sibling Apprentices! Marcel, the other half, will have one of these eventually too.
(I have this hc that both of my playthroughs happened concurrently, with Laurene and Marcel both being apprentices with Asra. They both go to the palace, hunt for Julian, etc., and they both have their seperate endings. No, I haven't figured out how the thing with Lucio's body would work. I'm still working on that.)
Laurene and Marcel aren't actually related, they just have a very sibling-like relationship and are each other's foils. Laurene is younger, quieter, and more reserved than Marcel, but both are equally as stubborn. Her magic is tied closely to her emotions(and she's very emotional, getting teary faster than she gets angry). Is a v smol (5'0"), chubby cutie; wears baby-winged eyeliner, her eyes squint when she smiles.
Favorite Food: sauteed fiddleheads
Favorite Drink: hot cider
Favorite Flower: Lily of the Valley
Love Interest: Muriel
Familiar: Philomena, a cougar(mountain lion, panther, whatever you call them) that lives in the forest outside Vesuvia instead of inside the shop where she defo wouldn't fit. She helps Laurene and protects her while she's foraging or visiting Muriel.
Preferred Magic: wind/sound, sigils, healing
(Future) Kids with Muriel: fraternal twins Samantha & Sequoia
(Singing) voice cast: Emmylou Harris
Other things:
- Sews - makes/repairs her & Marcel's clothes, embroiders sigils into things they both wear.
- enjoys foraging for magic ingredients, herbs and etc.
- likes wind in her hair and breathing in deep the fresh air outside the city
- likes singing, can always be found humming something quietly to herself while she takes walks through the forest, or to fill the silence in Muriel's hut
- likes bees
- Used to play the dulcimer before she lost her memory. Asra doesn't know how to play it so he couldn't re-teach her.
Now it’s actually functional to read because I’m not posting from mobile! I’m so sorry about it being 10 miles long before. The actual story is under the cut!
This is my apprentice Laurene’s backstory of how she came to Vesuvia and met Marcel, the other half of the Sibling Apprentices. Laurene is Fantasy!Irish, and her culture is based on a mix of different Gaelic peoples, including the Gaels (more broadly), the Picts (more specifically), druidry, and my own experience as a pagan.
It also is heavily based on Irish mythology. If you don’t know the myths, it’s perfectly fine and you’ll still be able to understand the story.
Rating: T for depictions of trauma, but there’s no gore or explicit violence.
Content Warning: Fire, claustrophobia, family death
Length: 3,200 words.
Yeah, you read that right, it’s basically a full-length novella. I got carried away a bit, but I’m really proud of it. (And also always open to constructive criticism!)
Irish/Scottish Pronunciation Guide (written by an American with the internet, so it's not good):
Labhraín woke up on a chilly autumn morning, curled up with her cousin Muirne to stave away the cold. Careful not to wake her, Labhraín slowly crawled out of bed and dressed near the central hearth. How Muirne could sleep through everyone bustling about in the house was beyond her - there were fifteen people in here, almost entirely women and children, and half the building was dedicated to the sheep and goats, past the partition. It was always so loud.
Labhraín had just finished braiding her long hair when Muirne came and joined her.
"Morning cousin" Muirne smirked, a smile partially hidden behind her mess of dark blonde hair. "Are you ready for the day? We have a lot of work to do."
That they did. Tomorrow was New Year, one of two days where the veil between realms was at its thinnest, and the day to honor the dead and do readings for the coming year. There was still a lot to do to prepare for the feast of the ancestors and the bonfire atop Almu Hill, and Labhraín and Muirne were the two oldest cousins and eighteen and nineteen, so it was their job to do a lot of that work. Labhraín's mother, Bandruí Tlachtga, always said it was a blessing that there were so many girls. Her father chose some other words to describe it.
Muirne leaned in and whispered, so only Labhraín could hear her. "Hurry up and meet me in the hazel wood, I have something important to tell you!"
---
"What's so important that we had to rush out here?" Labhraín questioned as she focused her concentration to make a gust of wind appear from her hands and into the branches of the sacred trees, rattling the hazelnuts loose.
"I have to tell you a secret. And you promise you can't tell anyone. Especially not my Da. Promise?"
"I promise, what is it?" Not even Uncail Tadg? He was the chief magician - not telling him must mean it's something bad. And knowing her cousin, that should be expected anyway. She was usually getting into some kind of nonsense.
"I'm leaving. Tomorrow." A smile spread gleefully across Muirne's face as she picked up hazelnuts off the mossy forest floor
"Leaving?! What do you mean, leaving?" She hissed.
"I met man, a few weeks ago. Oh, Labhraín, I love him. He's getting me out of here and we're going to get married. My Da wants to keep me here until I'm an old crone, and I can't do it! I know I'm destined for great things!"
Labhraín just sighed and looked at her cousin. Muirne was in love and there was nothing she could do to change her mind. Once Uncail Tadg found out she was missing, he would send out a manhunt. In the past he had said something about an omen, that Muirne could never get married. She wasn't sure exactly what kind of omen that meant, but the soothsayers never lie.
"His name is Cumhall, oh Labhraín, you'd love him. He's the leader of a different tribe, I know he'll take care of me. We're leaving tomorrow night, right after the feast. With all the festivities, no one will notice I'm gone!"
Labhraín thought it was a terrible idea, and even if he was a king she still wouldn't like him because he was taking her dearest friend away. But how could she pull her from what she believed to be her destiny? Was it even her place to say?
Instead, she just sighed, clutching her apron full of hazelnuts and headed back to the blackhouse with her cousin. "I'm happy for you, Muirne. I wish you the best."
They spent the rest of the day preparing for the holiday - rehydrating the woad pigment, baking dried fruit bread, gathering eggs for divination and herbs for the fire, and washing turnips to carve the next day. Labhraín went off on her own for a bit, to practice her music one last time before the bonfire with the other musicians in the family. She bumped shoulders with her cousin, Áillen. He made her laugh and for a brief moment she forgot how unhappy she was.
Silent tears ran down Labhraín's face as she tried to sleep that night, surrounded by her other cousins but holding Muirne close. The words she said kept playing in Labhraín's head: I'm destined for great things. I'm destined for great things. I'm destined for great things.
I'm destined for great things.
Labhraín hoped to the spirits of the forest and the ancestors that it was true. And she hoped the same for herself.
---
The next day, after they had the feast of the ancestors in silence with the rest of the family, she tearfully waved her cousin off into the dusky forest.
"M'iníon, what is wrong?" Her mother asked, catching Labhraín by surprise. "Why are you crying? Is something upsetting you?"
"Oh...nothing. Thinking about grandfather is just making me sad." She lied, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Yes, we did lose a good man this year..." She placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "But don't you worry, he's watching over us, especially tonight. The fire is starting soon, would you like me to help you with your facepaint so you can join the other musicians?"
A small smile came upon Labhraín's face and she nodded. She was a grown woman, but her mam always knew how to make her feel better when she was vulnerable.
"I'd like that a lot."
As her mother brushed patterns over her face in the traditional blue pigment, Labhraín kept telling herself the bonfire will make her feel better. Without fail, it always does.
---
At the top of Almu hill, she readied herself behind her dulcimer, her aunts, uncles, and cousins beside her on other instruments. This is where she felt most at home. One at the hand drum, one at the flute, one on the pipes, with Áillen on the harp. He was the best musician of them all, his warm smile always lighting up the room as he played.
But this time, no, she had to be imagining it? Áillen looked different than usual - like a man half dead, his eyes like burning coals. He caught her looking at him, and the smirk he gave her made her stomach turn.
Something was wrong.
The bonfire was never actually lit. Everything happened so fast... They were playing the music, but as Áillen started to sing, all the men began to move slower and slower until they fell unconscious. Her uncle dropped the pipes. And then the destruction began.
Fire. So much fire. It began with Áillen? And the roof of the blackhouse, below them. What was happening? Where was her mam? It was chaos. The sound of screaming filled her ears. Her mother yelled for her.
"Mam!" Where was she? Everything was a blur of smoke.. Her heart raced. Her eyes prickled.
Through the flames she saw her.
"M'iníon! Labhraín! Run!"
It was all she could do. She snatched up her dulcimer and ran down the hill and into the forest, leaving everything behind her.
---
She ran until she couldn't feel her legs anymore, collapsing onto the forest floor. The hammers to her dulcimer were long gone, and she honestly didn't even know why she grabbed it in the first place. She knew she needed to pick herself up and keep moving, to get farther away from Áillen's destruction, but all she could do in the moment was sob into the dark earth.
She wanted her mam. She wanted Muirne. She wanted the hammers to her dulcimer. She wanted to be back in the blackhouse, waking up the next morning and none of this ever happening.
Something large crunched the dead leaves in front of her, and she almost didn't even look up. Whatever danger she was about to face, maybe it would actually kill her. Being dead was better off than her current situation, right?
But she slowly craned her head up, and her eyes grew wide as she looked directly into a pair of bright yellow ones. In front of her sat the biggest mountain lion she had ever seen.
Granted, she had never seen one before. She must have run farther than she thought, since these cats weren't usually found where her tribe lived. Maybe this one was lost like she was.
It cocked its head at her, whiskers twitching, and she heard it speak to her in her mind.
"Lost?"
"Ye-yes..." Her voice trembled. "I...there was a fire and..."
"Fire?"
"Yes... Everything is gone, my mother, she...she told me to run, but now...."
"Safe?"
"Me? No, I...I don't know..." It was the dead of night by now, in a part of the forest she wasn't familiar with. She could usually sense where the spirits of the forest wanted her to go, letting them guide her, but in her current state she wasn't sure she could muster up the strength.
As her voice trailed off, the large cat shook its head once and stood up, beginning to walk away, it's tail straight up in the air like a flag.
"Follow."
It led her to a crevice in some rocks, beneath the roots of a large tree. It was a den for rearing cubs, though she didn't see any. The cougar laid down on its side and curled up, looking up at Labhraín as if to question why she wasn't following in suit. Not knowing what else to do, she laid down beside it, the cat's tail wrapping around her. She heard one more word in her mind before exhaustion completely set in and she fell asleep.
"Safe."
-------
The cougar introduced itself as Philomena, and insisted on staying with Labhraín as she went through the forest, even though she really didn't have a place to go. She was physically and emotionally drained, her skin pale and her eyes heavy. What was the point of even going anywhere? She just wanted to lay down and sleep and never wake up.
Philomena headbutted her, urging her to keep going.
"Need to go. Safe"
She groaned, picking herself up. She gathered up her dulcimer and hugged it close to her chest, trying to pull whatever familiarity to home it had into her, as if it could fly away at any moment.
She walked out into the dewy morning, scattered sunlight filtering through the trees. She sighed - even at her worst, she couldn't deny that the forest was beautiful, and was still proud to call it her home.
Philomena nudged her again, and Labhraín closed her eyes, listening to the forest and feeling where its spirit pulled her.
"Slightly north to the setting sun." She said after a few moments of thought and gathering of her bearings. Her feet like lead and her heart still heavy, she trudged forward through the trees with the sun at her back.
They walked for days, stopping only for food or sleep, and the occasional rinse in a stream. Despite all of Philomena's pushing, Labhraín refused to eat meat, because that would mean she had to light a fire spell to cook it. She never wanted to look at fire again, or at least not any time soon. What if she accidentally lit the forest on fire? What if destruction is in her blood, like her cousin? She knew that didn't make much sense, but the fear was still there.
After five days, the deep forest she was familiar with began to thin. She went around a large mountain, and the trees changes species. Signs of other human life began to appear - she must be getting close to a village. The water from the falls was flowing down the path she was already walking. If she followed it, she would probably end up at the village, since they would be using the water. Is this where the spirits of the forest were guiding her? Her pace quickened - maybe she'll actually find a place to stay.
As she continued, she passed the largest tree out of them all, roots exposed on top of a pile of crumbling rocks. She made a note of it, that if she ended up staying in the woods it wouldn't be hard to turn those stones into walls and make a house under that tree. She would be alone besides Philomena, though, and she was eager to see another human being.
The trees finally cleared, and Labhraín came face to face with the entrance to the largest city she had ever seen. Over the walls was a large white building, with gold and spires and towers. She had never seen something so beautiful. Someone very important must live there.
Philomena nudged her back, causing Labhraín to turn around. The Mountain Lion was sitting up, a look of finality in its eyes.
"Safe." It said. This wasn't to urge her to keep moving, but a statement. This is where Labhraín was meant to be.
"Aren't you coming?"
"No. Stay out here. Home in forest."
That made sense. A large predator like Philomena wouldn't be welcome in her small village, and Labhraín couldn't imagine what a large city like this place would think.
"You're my family now, though, you know that?" She asked, scratching the cat's golden fur behind the ears before wrapping her arms around it in a hug. "I'll be back for you, I'll visit all the time. I promise."
"Familiar." Philomena purred. "With you. Always."
With that, they went their separate directions: Philomena jumped into the upper branches of the forest trees, and Labhraín made her way into the city. Her heart was heavy and she was scared, but Mierne's words echoed in her head, her mantra for her entire journey.
I am destined for great things. There was no turning back now.
---
Labhraín had never seen so many people in her entire life. This city was packed, everyone was pushing around one another and she felt trapped. She didn't really know how she got to this part of the city, the streets were twisted and confusing, but it was some kind of trade center. Everyone was buying or selling different foods, from the most delicious bread she'd ever smelled to piles of exotic fruits she had never seen before. One was dark red and leathery, and a perfect sphere - it had to be too tough to bite into. How would someone eat it? It wasn't until this moment that she realized how much she didn't know about the world. In the past hour she had seen more people of different skin tones, heard more languages spoken, and seen so many different foods than she had ever seen or heard before in her life. There were people who she couldn't tell what gender they were, or if they had a gender at all. She didn't realize that was an option. But most of all she noticed that up until now she had been relatively alone or in her small family group. She realized that all these people and all the noise made her very anxious.
There was so much going on. There were so many people…
The crowd jostled her to and fro through the streets, pushed her around. She found herself feeling smaller and smaller, her heart racing, her breath quickening. She ran to the edge of the street, her back against the stone wall of a building. She sunk to her knees and closed her eyes, hoping it would just go away.
"Are you alright?"
She heard a voice and felt a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, another face very close to her own, purple eyes looking into hers.
"Are you alright? Do you need help?" A person with tan skin and hair the color of woad knelt down in front of her, a concerned look on their face.
Labhraín nodded. Did this person know all these people in the city? How could they know so many faces?
"Here, come with me. The back roads are a lot more quiet. I can show you, if you want." They stood up and held out their hand for her. She took it, and they led her down some side streets away from the crowds They moved quite fast, twisting and turning through the alleys, and Labhraín almost had to run to keep up with their long legs. All the while, this person never seemed to stop talking.
"My name's Marcel, what's yours?"
"Labhraín."
"Law...reen?"
She nodded.
"Laurene. Okay, I think I got it! So you look pretty lost. You've never been to Vesuvia before, have you?"
She shook her head no.
"Yeah, it's a lot if you're not used to it. So welcome to Vesuvia! Are you staying or just visiting?"
"I… I think I'm staying."
"Oh, wicked. That thing you're holding, is that an instrument? It looks like a kanun?"
"It's a dulcimer. I'm missing the hammers, though."
"You play it with hammers? That's super cool! I play the oud."
Did they not know what a dulcimer was? To be fair, she didn't know what either of the instruments they mentioned were.
Marcel kept talking, asking a lot of questions that Laurene didn't think really meant much. What her favorite flower was ("We call it Lily of the Valley where I'm from"), or her favorite food ("fiddleheads". "Fiddleheads? I've never heard of that before. I like kousa mahshi." "I've never heard of that before."). They didn't mean much, but slowly they got Laurene talking, speaking to another human again. They reminded her of Muirne, and she smiled for the first time in almost a week.
By the time they got to wherever they were going, Laurene knew more about Marcel than she did anyone else. They described themself as "nonbinary" and didn't really go by any particular gender. They were nineteen, a year older than her, and was also a magician. Their facepaint helped attune their chakras, whatever those were, and they were really interested in the clothing of other cultures.
Marcel also was uncomfortable showing skin, which explained the boots, long pants, knee-length tunic, and jacket they were wearing. They even wore a looped scarf around their neck, to cover their hair and mouth when they felt like being extra modest. ("Large crowds make me nervous, so it makes me feel better to cover my head.") Laurene didn't know how they could wear so much fabric when the city was still so hot in autumn, but she could make an assumption that it was something magical.
The two of them came out of an alley in front of a shop a ways away from the marketplace, the wooden sign emblazoned with a mortar and pestle that hung next to the doorway creaked in the autumn wind.
"This is the magic shop!" Marcel grinned as they unlocked the door. "My auntie and I, we run it, and live upstairs." They paused, halfway through the door with Laurene still standing on the street outside, unsure of what to do.
"What, aren't you coming in for tea? You're new in town, you're a guest! Come in!"
