And, having the task of helping with the Novana first-gen thanks to @deathsvvitch in our discord server, allow me to introduce my new lady, Helena Magnotti, the first Mist Guardian and Sophia's right-hand!
(To be fair I simply dragged my main YGO oc into KHR and really liked how she turned out AKJSDGHAJSDGSAJH)
She not only serves as the "sacrifice" when the Novana got targeted in a witch hunt, assuming the place of her boss, but also is the one responsible from the curse that would haunt the family for the next generations.
Helena was born blind and she carries a small lyre. Said instrument is the main source of her illusions, based on sound. It is known that once you hear the delicate notes from it, you're trapped into her world. Once a beautiful melody turns into a dangerous requiem. Aside from her condition, her abilities couldn't be subestimated.
She also has a butterfly motif (based on a Monarch), since she comes from a wealthy family in Florence, reflecting on a more "royal" look. And, butterflies are the symbol of melancholy, which reflects on her personality overall. Helena is mysterious and bewitching, which makes her a natural illusionist. Although, sometimes she just likes to play her songs to share a moment of peace, outside of battles.
I'm here to deliver my secret santa gift! Dear Tai, you told me your preference for writing and who am I to refuse your wish? I am but a humble writer hoping to please you with my offering 🙂↕️
Therefore I have created the Novana Coffeeshop AU! Because I'm weak for that trope LOL
The snippet is under the cut, have fun reading 💜💜
Tech support aka who needs social skills if you have blackmail?
Ale faces the black screen of the computer with the severe expression of a hero who is finally going to slay the final boss or die trying.
With their brows furrowed and fingers folded in front of their lips, Ale’s gaze would have set the screen on fire a long time ago if they had access to aforementioned hero magic. Alas, their talents and skills are mundane in nature, so the shitty computer continues to mock them by not bursting into flames.
“I’m gonna do it,” they say, voice full of determination that should probably be invested in more serious matters.
Arlo – long since used to his best friend’s antics – doesn’t even have the decency to look up from his paperwork when he responds.
“You won’t.”
Ale throws him a poisonous look. “Well, I wasn’t askin’ ya! I’m gonna fuckin’ do it!”
In one efficient gesture, Arlo somehow makes the click of his pen and the rustling of paper sound like both a dismissal and an insult to Ale’s intelligence.
“No, you are not going to throw the computer out of the window. What would that even accomplish? Also, may I remind you that we still need it today?”
A scowl works itself on Ale’s face. What right does he have to bring valid arguments to the table? How is someone supposed to throw a tantrum over non-functioning technology when they are immediately faced with logic?
Ugh.
Ale sighs and burrows their face in their hands, an air of defeat settling around their shoulders. “Okay, I’m not gonna trash the computer but-” they point at Arlo who is still immersed in budget reports because nobody respects them around here “-this ain’t the end of it!”
“Of course Boss. If you say so.”
“Yeah!” they repeat, trying to regain momentum. “Yeah, I do fuckin' say so!”
Unfortunately, all the enthusiasm in the world won’t make up for the fact that the computer of the Novana Café is a piece of absolute garbage that should have been scrapped twenty years ago. It takes a year and a half to power up, glitches at random times and is probably loaded with enough malware to count as a security hazard. However, Ale hadn’t had the time nor the money to find a replacement, so the weekly administrative work turned into an exercise of frustration. Frustration and patience
Patience that Ale is quickly running out of.
Where is the easily available tech genius when you need them?
…
Wait.
A snapshot of freckles, messy hair and screen-tired eyes hit Ale over the head like a freight train.
“I have an idea!”
At Ale’s shout Arlo finally turns toward them, blinking in confusion which quickly turns into alarm when he registers Ale’s sparkling eyes.
“I will call the fire department,” he says, his fingers already itching towards his phone on the table.
Ale glares at him, excitement quickly forgotten when faced with cheeky comments. “Oi! There ain’t a need for that.”
“Past experience tells me otherwise.”
Ale is not a child. They won’t stomp their foot and throw things no matter how much of a prick their best friend was. “Nothin’ is gonna catch fire!”
Arlo raises his eyebrow at them, scepticism clear on his face. “Sure. Let me call Ayame then.”
“Wha- Why Ayame?” they ask, before realisation dawns on them and they give in to their childish urges. Ale grabs a nearby dish towel and aims right at Arlo’s stupid face. “I don’t need a lawyer either! Nobody’s gonna end up dead!”
Arlo snatches the towel out of the air before it can hit bullseye and meets their eyes with a painfully earnest expression. “Don’t worry, Boss. I will always be your alibi in case you decide to go rogue.”
A bubble of fondness wells up within Ale, even when annoyance still lingers in their chest. It’s the absolute worst when their friends say sappy shit in joke but clearly mean it, because how are you supposed to stay mad at them?
It’s fucking unfair.
They refuse to smile at his words because they won’t give in, goddammit! Show the slightest bit of weakness and their friends will smell it like blood in the water. The teasing will be endless and they just cleaned up yesterday after a joke escalated into a major food fight. Ale really isn’t in the mood to scratch off dried pancake batter from the ceiling again. It strains the hell out of your neck.
Meaning that Ale decides to not entertain that line of conversation any further. Because they are a responsible adult. Who makes good decisions.
(And no. They aren’t scared of Veronna’s wrath which shall be swift and merciless if she found out about any kind of food waste. Not at all.)
Anyhow.
Best to banish any food fight related thoughts into the void and move on with their life.
After all, they have a computer to fix and a hacker to blackmail.
~
Despite its small size Novana has always enjoyed a large and varied customer base. Some come for their daily caffeine fix, some for Lux’ cupcakes and some special cases just yearn to be stepped on by Veronna which is slightly nauseating but Veronna isn’t bothered and the weirdos tip well, so Ale is willing to ignore it.
Novana’s regulars are mostly students, tired office workers and the occasional lost tourist but among them you can find one Vita Lamberto who spends so much time in the darkest corner seat of the café that Ale is surprised she hasn’t fused with the furniture yet. Vita has been part of Novana’s clientele long before Ale started working in their mother’s café and according to Veronna she simply turned up on a rainy day and just… never really left. Her visiting hours are irregular, sometimes she arrives as soon as they open, other times she shuffles through the door in the afternoon but Vita comes in everyday without fail. Ale likes to imagine that their coffee is just that fucking good but it’s more likely that Vita formed an unhealthy attachment for the single power outlet available for customer use. It’s either that or the free Wi-Fi. Same difference really, because Vita is glued to her laptop pretty much 24/7.
And look.
Ale isn’t really all that tech savvy. They know the basics and how to look shit up on the internet but ask them to programme themselves out of a paper bag and they would be fucked. But students gossip worse than bored housewives and Ale works full time in a coffeeshop which is a stone’s throw away from the local university.
They hear things.
And when you gather information like a hyperactive squirrel preparing for winter it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Vita Lamberto and the notorious hacker N3K0 are the same person.
So, why bother paying someone for fixing your shit when you literally have a tech wizard camping in your backyard?
Now, confronting someone about their shady hobby with the goal of asking for help requires a … delicate touch.
One should approach the situation with caution and subtlety.
With discretion.
Ale drags the nearest chair to Vita’s table, sits on it backwards, snaps their fingers in Vita’s face until she removes her headphones and asks: “You a hacker, right?” because they wouldn’t know discretion if it slapped them in the face with a fish in broad daylight.
Vita blinks, projecting the manifestation of an irritated cat with sheer force of will. “What.”
It isn’t phrased as a question but Ale can vividly hear “the actual fuck?” echoing around the room anyway.
They sigh. “Look, I don’t give a crap if ya prank asshole professors with porn viruses or snoop around the Pentagon’s servers for shit and giggles. Just answer the question. Or hell don’t answer, this is a free country. I know yer N3K0, though it woulda been nice to have confirmation.”
Vita tilts her head, her lips pursing in what could either be consideration or annoyance. Ale had known that a direct approach had the potential to backfire but they don’t have the patience for the long game. Either Vita plays along or she doesn’t. Arlo would whack them over the head with a newspaper and lecture about “risk management” and “social graces” but Ale became great at blending his voice out over the years.
“I plead the Fifth,” Vita says, with zero inflection in her voice.
Ale snorts in amusement. “Yeah, that ain’t gonna fly here.”
Vita simply shrugs in response, apparently unbothered. “Worth a try.” She props up her head on her palm and regards Ale through low lidded eyes, sleepiness giving away to the cunning hiding underneath. “So, what the hell do you want?”
Off with the band-aid then.
“I need ya to fix our computer.”
Vita waits a moment like she’s expecting a punchline to Ale’s request and when they didn’t spring up with jazz hands and a “just kiddin’”, her eyebrows inched along her forehead, incredulous.
“Are you fucking serious.”
Ale nods. “Like late stage cancer.”
“Ugh,” Vita scrubs a hand over her face, “why come to me? There are repair shops or fuck, just buy a new one if it’s that bad.”
A small wave of embarrassment rises up in Ale. They aren’t exactly ashamed of their current dilemma but they dislike advertising it especially when they are asking for help already.
“We don’t have the budget,” they mutter sullenly.
Or more accurately. They could have the budget but it would mean asking their mother and considering the fact that Ale proudly proclaimed that they could take care of the café themselves, they would rather get shot in the foot than beg for money. Never gonna happen, not on their watch.
Vita’s piercing stare brought them back to reality. “Are you for real? You want me to fix your shit for free?”
A tiny smirk curls around Ale’s mouth. “Well. Ya could help me out with this lil problem of mine. Or I could tell everyone about that hobby of yours.”
Vita’s expression falls flat instantly, her brows furrowed and gaze sharp, probably trying to figure out if Ale is bluffing or not.
Which they are.
Obviously.
Revealing Vita’s identity as N3K0 would only result in more trouble that Ale couldn’t afford right now, but they need some kind of leverage for this to work. So, gambling with information it is.
It helps that Ale owns the shit disturber aura. It makes it easy to convince people that they will make reckless and stupid decisions at the drop of a hat with no consideration of potential consequences.
(Let’s all ignore the fact that Ale is renowned for their reckless and stupid decisions. This has no relevance here whatsoever.)
“Are you blackmailing me?” Vita asks in the end, back to unimpressed and slightly disbelieving.
Ale tries their best to channel an innocent baby animal. Like a puppy. Or a fawn. Eyes wide and shining, lips formed into a pout and a little head tilt to sell the deal.
“I dunno. Are ya gonna fix it or not?”
Vita holds eye contact with them for a moment before she drops her head into her hands and starts to curse out Ale’s entire family line under her breath.
When she reaches their great grandparents, she looks up with dead eyes and sighs.
“Fine. I will take a look at your shit computer but you better keep your mouth shut, alright?”
Holy shit I can’t believe this worked!
Ale beams at her with the full power of the Italian midday sun. “Awesome! Let’s go back to the office then!”
They jump off their chair and grab Vita’s hands despite her protests at the manhandling. No way in hell they will give her time to change her mind on this.
Giddy with excitement, Ale drags their new minion into the back of the café, right in front of the cursed piece of scrap metal that is haunting their existence.
With a flourish, Ale presents their problem child. “Here ya go!”
Vita stares at the computer in all its dusty glory. Looks at Ale. Looks back at the computer. Pauses.
“The seventies called. They would like to have their technology back.”
Ale puts their hands on their hips and glowers. “I know right? It fucking sucks, but it’s what we got. So, can you help a pal out?”
Vita frowns and pokes the screen with her finger with the caution of someone who expects to be bitten.
“You drive a hard bargain,” she says flatly, “No clue if this shit is even worth the effort.”
A tiny drop of despair worms itself into Ale’s heart. They are this close to the finish line, they can’t lose now!
“You’ll get free refills for a month,” they blurt out, thankful that Arlo has left the room to man the counter because he might actually murder Ale for the offer. Vita is one of their best paying customers after all.
Said customer turns to Ale with a gleam of interest in her eyes.
“One year.”
Oh yeah, Ale is so dead.
They hide the dread of their impending doom with a confident smile.
“Two months! We gotta run a business after all.”
Vita clicks her tongue. “You joking? Look at this crap, it will probably take me days, maybe even weeks. Eight months.”
“Hah? Do ya know how much coffee ya drink? Do ya want us to go bankrupt? Three months tops!”
“Yeah, no fucking way. Eight months or no deal.”
The drop of despair slowly turns into an ocean and Ale is not prepared to drown just yet.
“Six months!” they shout as their final offer. “Six months and a free pastry of yer choice.” Lux’ baking is to die for, surely it can sweeten the pot.
Vita studies them with an unnerving intensity and Ale tries their best not to let their anxiety show. After a moment of eternity, she slowly nods.
“Alright. But this better be some damn good food or I will fucking sue you for slave labour.”
YES!
Ale resists to jump in victory but they still point at their saviour with a silly grin on their face.
“You betcha! Novana only offers the best of the best!”
Operation: free tech support is a total success!
Suck on that Arlo! I have fantastic ideas!
~
Additional credits and notes
Veronna belongs to @novanacloud
Marilux (Lux) belongs to @versailles-jewels
~
Special thanks to @yunnebbia who not only helped me brainstorm for this gift but also beta'd the snippet! Seriously you have been a huge help in for this writing endeavour, couldn't have done it without you!
More Baldur's Gate 3 art, I don't have a lot of spare time to illustrate things from this game, but it is still so near and dear to my heart, this game made such an impact on me 💖 Purple tiefling is my character, Novana.
For my friend, Chi. Their Tav, Novana, with Astarion.
___
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