cyril’s shop | 11th maccius, late afternoon | @cyrilbeauchamp
they’re going to be late. one of their first appointments in this thrice-cursed city, less than a week, and they’re already hurrying down the street, face tucked into their scarf. too long spent watching the sunlight over the harbour, too used to time being dictated only by the fall of night. they’re going to have to get their hands on one of those pocketwatches, or something of the sort, but they shake off the thought as they arrive outside the shopfront, breathe out.
slowly, they push open the door, brush their feet off on the mat and step forwards to the counter, looking around for - whoever they’re supposed to be looking for. a back door opens and vaska tilts their head in greeting. ‘ afternoon, i’m vaska, i have an appointment with beauchamp? a friend booked it for me, general court attire. ‘