I saw a post once about fae type creatures running a cafe and the cares one would need to take as a customer. If I can find the original to correctly credit it, I will edit this post. Sadly, I had only seen it in passing before I created this account. Here is a fun bit of something I’ve put together after the inspiration that post gave me.
On a lovely, bright morning a lone figure leaned stiffly on a half wall. Her shorts scuffed lightly on the wall’s surface, the bricks being mildly weather worn and abrasive. She barely noticed the muted sounds of her scuffed shorts. Despite the warmth of the morning, she felt a chill over her arms that had nothing to do with the short sleeves of her shirt or the warm breeze.
Having walked the same few streets every day for years, the progression of buildings and scenery were well engraved in her mind. If challenged to do so, she would have been able to close her eyes and describe most of her surroundings in full, or at least great, detail. So as she’d been walking to school and found a large cafe where none had been the day before, she had stopped to stare.
It was not as though a formerly empty building had been occupied and a business had opened exceptionally quickly. The entire cafe was a building which had not formerly existed at all. It was almost at the end of the street, where the correct order of buildings was supposed to be a nice apartment building of grey stone and a corner store. Instead, the street was now situated with the apartment building of grey stone, the cheery white store front of a large windowed cafe, and then the corner store.
She had been startled when she’d noticed the extra building. On any other day, if asked, she would have confidently announced that a nice, small, community park was on the other side of the wall she leaned against. But that particular day, she had no idea what was behind her. There was only room in her mind to observe the new building, and to observe that anyone who walked in and out of the apartment building didn’t seem to notice the new building at all. Or, they acted as though it had always been there, disappearing inside to get a cup of coffee or tea on their way to work.
The building itself looked like any other business on the block. Bright white walls, as though newly painted. A large window with small signs hanging to advertise the hours and the menu, a small awning to cast shade on anyone reading the menu from the sidewalk. Numerous potted plants lined the front of the store, more plants inside the cafe could be glimpsed beyond the reflection of sun on the window. A few tables were on the sidewalk, chairs waiting for people to take a seat. The furniture outside was made of sturdy looking wood and appeared hand carved. She imagined the furniture inside would be similar.
The staff she could see, mostly through the window though a few ventured outside anytime someone sat at a table, were all either extremely tall or noticeably short. By her best estimates, the shortest of the tall employees was six foot, the others a range of inches taller. And the tallest of the shorter employees was maybe about five foot tall, the rest of the shorter ones bordering on child-like. There was no in between. And they were all slim, which wasn’t inherently abnormal unless you noticed that they were all slim. Not just fit, but outright void of very many defining curves and features. As though they had all been children that had grown to adulthood without hitting puberty.
The male and female employees were sometimes hard to distinguish from one another, everyone possessing similar hair cuts and facial features that bordered on androgynous. Like they were all siblings and cousins, their family lacking any new traits for a few generations until they all bore the same nose, the same chin. The matching work uniforms of black pants, grey shirts, and black, full bodied aprons only made it more difficult to tell them apart.
Never having skipped school before, she stared at the cafe and wondered what was so compelling about the place to stand there and stare. Of course, other than its sudden appearance. That was, she felt, a rather obvious reason. But aside from that, she couldn’t figure out why she’d neglected to continue on her way. A few others on the street had stopped and stared as she had. But unlike herself, they had all spared but a few seconds before shaking their heads and walking away as though in a daze. One person had even been on the phone, and she’d managed to overhear them say, “I thought I smelled coffee,” before walking away in confusion.
The hairs on her arms and neck prickled, prompting her to look around. There, in the large window, a friendly face looking outside. Towards her. Whoever it was waved and before she knew what was happening, she found herself waving back. Mid motion, she froze and stared at her hand wondering how it had gotten in the air. She had not intended to wave back. And yet, she had.
When her gaze finally left her hand and returned to the cafe, she was surprised to see the same person stepping out the front door, where they casually leaned against the frame. Her hand lowered slowly back to her side, at the same time the employee (as she could then see the uniform they wore) made a waving motion for her to cross the street. Her eyebrows shot up at the invitation, but as with her hand, she found her feet moving forward. Almost as though she had been summoned and not simply invited. There was barely the idea to look both ways for traffic.
Safely across the street, she stopped suddenly while perching just on the curb. What if they were waving to someone else? She nervously looked over each of her shoulders, scanning the sidewalk to either side both beside her and across the street where she had been. There was no one, and when she looked back towards the employee she saw them smiling as though they were amused, waving with one hand to make the same ‘come here’ motion again.
This was one of the tall ones. As she drew closer to them, she felt her vision swimming slightly at the edges. It was a very similar feeling to when she stood up too quickly and she got lightheaded for a few seconds. From across the street, she had observed them possessing the same androgynous features as the others. But now, up close, she could quite clearly see that he didn’t have blondish-brown hair at all. His hair was black, the thick wavy locks hugging tightly to his head and sticking out around his ears, as though he didn’t know what a comb was.
Nor did he seem to possess the same slim frame anymore. He was still on the lean side, but his shoulders were wider than his hips. Something she would have sworn, only moments ago, wasn’t how his frame was shaped. He had piercing blue eyes, but if she looked anywhere at his face without direct eye contact, she could have sworn they looked more lavender.
A passerby on the street cut her off and ducked between the two of them to get inside the cafe faster. Her sight of him was only lost for a second, but when he came into view again, she had to blink a few extra times. They were still tall, but they also had the same, not-so-unique, features of the other employees. Blondish-brown hair, dull brown eyes, slim frame with no defining curves or facial features.
“Is everything alright, miss?” the employee asked. “I’ve noticed you standing across the street for some time now.” Even their voice seemed void of unique character, and she just knew that all the other employees would probably sound much the same as this one did.
“I, uh...” She trailed off, staring at their face a bit harder. “You had black hair a moment ago,” she blurted out. “I could have sworn you did.”
“Perhaps you’ve been in the morning sun too long,” they offered. “I could get you a glass of water. No charge, of course.”
“No.” She blurted that out more quickly than she had the comment of their hair color. “I mean, thank you. I’m just not very thirsty right now.” The idea of accepting water from this stranger, even though they were working at a cafe, had filled her with dread like nothing she had ever felt before. It sat heavily in her stomach, refusing to budge. It felt very similar to the times she’d overslept for school, forgotten to study for a test, or the time she’d gotten lost as a child and couldn’t find her mother at the mall.
“Are you hungry then? We have a large selection of baked goods. You’re allowed a free sample or two. Perhaps there’s something new to your kind, never sampled before.”
To your kind, a phrase that should have stood out to her. But it did not, because the feeling of dread in her stomach seemed to deepen. Her mind was pulled elsewhere. “No,” she said again, firmly. That time she didn’t even feel the need to apologize. She didn’t feel as though she was being rude at all, but rather, was defending herself. An odd way to feel, she realized.
“If not refreshments of our establishment, why have you lingered so long?” Their question was hard to answer, because she simply didn’t know. Their tone of voice was mild, but there was something in their eyes that came across as accusing, questioning, curious. They stared at her until she felt uncomfortable, and she had to look away.
Her gaze passed over the open doorway. For the first time she realized that, despite seeing plenty of people inside the cafe, she couldn’t hear anything inside. She could see employees talking to customers, handing out samples, bagging purchases. She could see the counter person collecting money and giving change, another answering questions. Happy looking customers sat at tables that matched the hand carved furniture outside. But there was not a single sound to be heard.
“Why is it so quiet?” she asked, her brows furrowing together slightly as she concentrated on finding even a single sound.
“Hmm?” The employee asked, following her gaze. “I hear plenty of noise from inside.” When they looked back at her, and she nervously glanced at them, she thought she noticed a look of confusion on their face. “You truly hear nothing?”
She shook her head.
“Take my hand,” they said, holding theirs out. As with the wave, and crossing the street, she found herself placing her hand in theirs before she could stop herself from doing so. It was like their words were an order, not a request.
Feeling lightheaded again, an array of sound and sights suddenly came to her. Coffee beans passing through a grinder, happy snippets of conversation, chairs scraping on floors, exclamations of surprise over sample tastings, the sound of coins falling to the floor. The employee before her had black hair, blue eyes, and wide shoulders again. He was clearly interested in watching her reaction, his hand firmly holding to hers. She looked away, feeling uncomfortable, only to see the woman working at the counter had skin an alarming shade of grey, the man handing out samples had white hair waving about as though in a breeze. A pair of customers sitting and chatting at a table weren’t actually chatting at all, but rather sitting in silence while staring off into space.
Music played softly inside. It was hauntingly beautiful but terrifying at the same time. The music pulled at her as though it was tempting her to step inside, sit down and listen. There was a promise, like a whisper in the back of her mind, that the music would play for her as long as she liked to sit and listen.
She would have kept staring, would have kept listening to the music, except the one holding her hand asked, “What is your name?”
That feeling of dread in her stomach crawled into her throat. Even if she had wanted to, answering would have been difficult. She pulled her hand away from him, noticing as she did that he seemed to be caught off guard. He made a slight motion to chase after her hand, but then seemed to think better of it.
Turning to leave, having decided she’d had quite enough of the place, she quickly walked towards the curb again. Perhaps she would be late, but there was still time to get to school. She could explain that she’d overslept, or perhaps make an excuse of having needed to help her parents with an errand. If she managed to use the right excuse, there was a slim chance the school wouldn’t call home and her parents would never need to know she’d been late.
However, when she reached the curb, she found that her feet stopped. Her feet stopped so abruptly, in fact, she found herself waving her arms a bit to keep from falling over into the street. When she’d caught her balance, she looked over her shoulder, suddenly concerned that the cafe might be gone.
Still there? she questioned herself. What an odd thought. Though it did just seem to appear out of nowhere. It could disappear.
The cafe was still there, and so was its androgynous employee leaning on the door frame. Everything looked to be as normal as it possibly could, even though the uncomfortable silence had returned. She looked back at the street, looking both aways for traffic, and considered crossing again. But a thought lingered in her mind.
If you leave, you won’t be able to come back. The cafe will be gone.
She did not know how she knew that to be true, but it was for some reason an idea that she believed completely. As sure as she knew that the place had appeared out of nowhere and that it did not belong between the apartment building of grey stone and the corner store.
Looking back over her shoulder, she caught the gaze of the employee leaning on the door. His unique features seemed to blur together with their androgynous ones, as though the figure was both of them at the same time. Pains started at the back of her eyes. The employee shrugged then, and held a hand out to indicate the table closest to the door. An invitation to sit down.
Unlike the other times, there was no compulsion to do as instructed. She looked at the table and continued to think about leaving. Which was the only reason she voluntarily walked towards the table and decided to sit down. It had felt as though she’d been given the choice, and being allowed that choice left her room to be curious.
No sooner was she sitting at the table than the figure at the door disappeared inside. They came back a few minutes later with a small tray in hand. Rather than serving her and leaving, they sat the tray down in the middle of the table and took a seat. She wanted to pay attention to them as they sat, but instead she found herself focusing on the items of the tray.
Two small slices of chocolate cake sat on a pair of plates, covered in what appeared to be vanilla frosting. A small design of red had been piped on top of each slice, which seemed both familiar and foreign to her. She suspected that seeing the entire cake at once would reveal a recognizable design, but the slices themselves didn’t hold enough details to be clear. A small fork rested on each plate, looking brand new and well polished.
A small white teapot with a lovely rose painted on the side sat between two matching tea cups on plain white saucers. Steam rose from the teapot’s spout, making her wonder how she could see the steam at all given that it was not cold enough outside to produce steam.
The employee reached out and began to pour some of the tea into each cup. A beautiful rose colored water came forth. The air began to smell of nutmeg and something floral that she couldn’t quite place to any particular flower. The intention was clear, she was supposed to partake of the tea and cake. Dread began slowly building in her stomach again.
“I wish to offer you refreshments as my guest,” they said after setting the teapot down on the tray again. “Free for you to enjoy, nothing expected in return.”
The feeling of dread remained, but it faded to more of a background feeling. There was something in the way they had said, ‘nothing expected in return’ that had put her a bit more at ease. “Are you sure? I have money, I could pay for them.”
“Please,” they said, raising a hand in the air. “I freely offer these treats, no payment necessary.”
She reached for the teacup closest, and brought it close enough to her face for a better smell. She really wanted to know what the floral scent was, as it seemed so familiar. The teacup appeared to be made of porcelain, but felt much heavier in her hand than she would have thought. Expecting the tea to be hot, she set the cup and its saucer on the table before her, intending to let it cool for a moment. The steam had been warm on her face, hinting that perhaps it was still too hot to consume.
The employee mistook her intentions as hesitation. “Thrice spoken, there are no strings attached to my offer. Please, honor me as guest and partake of the treats I have selected for you.” The way they spoke was weird, she thought, but not wanting to be rude she picked the teacup up again. As she did so, she noticed that the cup suddenly felt much lighter. Or perhaps she had imagined the weight.
Though the tea still steamed, when it passed between her lips on a cautious sip it felt as though it was the perfect drinking temperature. The sip quickly became an eager but polite gulp. Flavor exploded across her tongue, sweet like honey and fresh in a way you only get with freshly picked tea ingredients. Much like the smell, it tasted of nutmeg and something floral that she couldn’t place.
Only after she set her cup back down did they pick up their own and drink. She found herself watching as her company sipped, their appearance hovering somewhere between the two versions she had seen and the stabbing pain behind her eyes picked up again. “Have more tea,” they suggested. “The moonflower will help with the pains you feel while looking at me.”
Had she been drinking she might have choked at the mentioning of the pain. How did this person know? As it were, she only felt her hands threatening to shake a little. They were quickly tucked away into her lap where she could hold them together until she was sure she could reach for her cup without spilling.
“Tell me where you were headed this morning,” he said. He was, though his appearance was still a blur of two types, decidedly more ‘he’ instead of ‘they’ at that point. It seemed an innocent enough attempt at conversation, so when she answered he simply smiled while staring into his teacup. He was actively avoiding her gaze. “Ah, yes. You are of the schooling age. I have learned a bit about the practices of your kind, I thought perhaps you might be young enough to still attend the lessons.”
She quietly drank her tea, and noticed after a few more sips that the pain behind her eyes was indeed lessening, though it didn’t appear to be going away completely. What was even more intriguing was that when she looked across the table, the person across from her was no longer a blurred, double image. He was simply blue eyed, black haired, and wide shouldered as though that was all he had ever been.
Though his ears were suddenly not human shaped in the slightest. They were, quite clearly, long and tapered on the top halves like any sort of fictional elven creature she’d seen in any number of movies, paintings, or fantasy stories. They stretched for several inches and his left ear sported a small, golden ring at the very end. A tiny bell was attached to the ring, no bigger than her pinky nail. His head movements were slow and deliberate most of the time, but occasionally he moved in such a way that the bell gave a tiny jingle.
“You’re...” She tried to say, ‘You’re an elf’ but the words caught in her throat. Like she dared not speak for fear of being wrong, as she had suddenly begun to think she was.
“I am,” he said, with a small smile. “Though I am probably not what you think.”
“Then what are you?”
He mulled the question over, tilting his head to the side as though giving his answer great thought. The little bell on his ear jingled, making small notes that tugged at her chest much like the music had when she’d heard it. It sounded as though it had two pieces inside, capable of making more notes than the average bell. “I... am what your kind will one day call fae. Something between your misconception of a fairy and an elf. And perhaps a bit like...” He trailed off. “I don’t remember the correct word.” He sighed heavily. “Mixing brews, collecting cats, practicing spells, eating children.”
“A witch?” she offered.
“Yes, perhaps. I am something similar to that which you know as a fairy, an elf, and a witch. And then, maybe not like them at all, sometimes.”
“You eat children?” The question came more calmly than she felt.
“Me? Never, not once, not even a taste.”
Not sure what to say, she simply nodded as though it was a natural answer to a natural question. The door to the cafe opened again, a man leaving with bagged treats in hand and powdered sugar clinging to his lips. He was woefully unaware that some of the powdered sugar had fallen to his business suit. As she watched the man leave the shop, passing close behind her company’s chair, she found that once more sounds were coming from inside. More muted than before and lacking any hints of music, but still sounds she could hear.
He grinned wide, his lavender eyes watching her face closely, and leaned slightly across the table as though they were sharing a secret. There was no effort made to hide the curiosity he felt. “You’ve a touch of the Elderlin blood, yes? Or is it the Sight of Veils?”
Remember in Welcome to Fae Cafe where Cress is trying to assure Kate that his assassins will never leave her coffee shop because "it's the perfect hiding place" and the then we immediately see Shayne hung a sign saying "FAE CAFE" outside for every man and fairy to see. Lol
