Reply status - Closed
"I'll be expecting you within an hour or so... don't be late."
Oh, had she stared daggers to his back as he exited, little fists curling beneath a fall of white sleeve, purple lips flattening to almost nothing. Hot guys were way too much trouble.
No matter how much Brenna tried to tell herself it wasn't for business, she failed. Truth was... not too many customers would be dealing with a retailer who'd drain them for a meal. Some of it was for privacy reasons, and even Basil knowing as much as he did about her irked her to some extent. But most of it... was for her business. And that was one thing she would keep quiet.
He'd given her an hour, so standing there wasn't helping matters. Little bare feet toddled along after him, and she pushed through the double doors out into the barrage of noise which brought a twisted look to otherwise calm features. Before ascending, she'd ventured to the kitchen, grabbing at least three plexiglass bowls and some wooden spoons and tossing the tender a rasberry, and hurried to her room.
She tore the note off of her door, fumbling with the lock and kicking the thing inward before the stack of bowls tumbled from her grib. Instantly she was met with the sharp, but sweet smell of boiling waxes. That, alone, could make her smile.
Each bowl had its respected spoon, and she settled these before hip-bumping the bathroom door in, waving a few clouds of steam from her vision with a free hand. Three tiny couldrons with their own flames were located in the bathtub, each filled with a bubbling soft pink/off white wax, and throwing clouds from their depths.
The bowls set down, she slipped the pack from her shoulder, laying it carefully at her feet, and flung the window that was just above the toilet wide open. She set to work.
*~*~*
The tub water was running, freezing cold and fast, as she emerged in a cloud of steam, blowing damp strands from her vision. She clicked the last silver cap on the tubes, setting all four out on the desk and then rushing back for her pack and a small black box.
Each tube had been correctly labeled - Vixen's Crimson, Pearlicious, and Poison Plum - and upon her return were layed neatly onto white folds of silk within the box, tied off with a red ribbon, and capped with a card that read Brenna Reanne. On the back, in swirly writing were the words Thank you! and the price of eighty silvers. Brenna smiled, admiring her work before the chime of a nearby clocktower reached her ears. Half past... oh dear. She'd have to find Iggy soon.
*~*~*
She'd slipped a few silvers into the till for her all her nights stays. Granted, she owed way more than that, though she'd deducted a few thanks to the horrific accomodations. Not the room, that was lovely. The food. It was terrible.
The cauldrons all clicked into one another, becoming one, and she was seen hastily stuffing them into the pack, the box in her hand, a card in her teeth, on her way out of the inn. If memory served her correctly, she'd be meeting up with Iggy... right about... now.
A bare foot stuck out in front of a small raggamuffin and he tumbled with a grunt, sputtering curse-words better known for those older than himself. She'd guessed he lived around here, he was always jogging
"Iggy... lovely to bump into you again."
"Yo, hey, lady! What'cha be doin' knockin' me over for! Tha' be mean."
"Apologies, dear," she muttered, taking a hold of his skinny arm and hoisting him to his feet. "You need to take me here," she said, hazel eyes boring into the kid's with a hint of urgency. He finally sighed, and she stood, taking a hold of his hand.
"Man, lady, ya needin' t'be findin' yer own way about this place. I gots things t'do, can't be leadin' ya 'round at all hours o' th'night."
"But you're so good at it." Eyes were bouncing around their surroundings once every few minutes, trying to keep a map of landmarks in her mind if she ever needed to find her way again. Another chime from somewhere to their left. Quarter to...
"There it be, lady, righ' there," Iggy said after they'd walked for a little more, hohlding out one of his arms. Brenna pocketed the card, took a deep breath, and squatted down in front of Iggy again, her little hand brushing along his dirty face. From all that transpired, it drove the thought from her mind - she was still hungry...
"Now Iggy... if this hurts, I apologize," much the same thing that she'd said to Basil, the thing that got her ass in the truble wagon. Perhaps from now on she wouldn't say anything, just do it.
"Wha-" he'd muttered, his hands going to her shoulders, little pushes given as she'd leaned to the dewey flesh of his neck. Perky fangs had lengthened and pierced through, causing a sharp gasp from Iggy, and she drank for only a few seconds, but those pulls were hard and forceful.
The tip of her tongue had jutted over the tiny puncture wounds, catching the last dribbles of blood that'd leaked. She brushed her fingers around his cheek, feeling a wetness that almost made her cry herself. "I'm sorry." She said straightening, the little box now held within both hands, the ribbon's bow being fiddled with as she stepped her bare footed way up to the door, took a deep breath. She brushed her hand across her lips, clearing them, and then slipping a tube out from her pack, reapplied a layer of royal purple. And Brenna knocked just as a stream of chimes sounded from the west.
Right on time.
"I'll be expecting you within an hour or so... don't be late."
Oh, had she stared daggers to his back as he exited, little fists curling beneath a fall of white sleeve, purple lips flattening to almost nothing. Hot guys were way too much trouble.
No matter how much Brenna tried to tell herself it wasn't for business, she failed. Truth was... not too many customers would be dealing with a retailer who'd drain them for a meal. Some of it was for privacy reasons, and even Basil knowing as much as he did about her irked her to some extent. But most of it... was for her business. And that was one thing she would keep quiet.
He'd given her an hour, so standing there wasn't helping matters. Little bare feet toddled along after him, and she pushed through the double doors out into the barrage of noise which brought a twisted look to otherwise calm features. Before ascending, she'd ventured to the kitchen, grabbing at least three plexiglass bowls and some wooden spoons and tossing the tender a rasberry, and hurried to her room.
She tore the note off of her door, fumbling with the lock and kicking the thing inward before the stack of bowls tumbled from her grib. Instantly she was met with the sharp, but sweet smell of boiling waxes. That, alone, could make her smile.
Each bowl had its respected spoon, and she settled these before hip-bumping the bathroom door in, waving a few clouds of steam from her vision with a free hand. Three tiny couldrons with their own flames were located in the bathtub, each filled with a bubbling soft pink/off white wax, and throwing clouds from their depths.
The bowls set down, she slipped the pack from her shoulder, laying it carefully at her feet, and flung the window that was just above the toilet wide open. She set to work.
*~*~*
The tub water was running, freezing cold and fast, as she emerged in a cloud of steam, blowing damp strands from her vision. She clicked the last silver cap on the tubes, setting all four out on the desk and then rushing back for her pack and a small black box.
Each tube had been correctly labeled - Vixen's Crimson, Pearlicious, and Poison Plum - and upon her return were layed neatly onto white folds of silk within the box, tied off with a red ribbon, and capped with a card that read Brenna Reanne. On the back, in swirly writing were the words Thank you! and the price of eighty silvers. Brenna smiled, admiring her work before the chime of a nearby clocktower reached her ears. Half past... oh dear. She'd have to find Iggy soon.
*~*~*
She'd slipped a few silvers into the till for her all her nights stays. Granted, she owed way more than that, though she'd deducted a few thanks to the horrific accomodations. Not the room, that was lovely. The food. It was terrible.
The cauldrons all clicked into one another, becoming one, and she was seen hastily stuffing them into the pack, the box in her hand, a card in her teeth, on her way out of the inn. If memory served her correctly, she'd be meeting up with Iggy... right about... now.
A bare foot stuck out in front of a small raggamuffin and he tumbled with a grunt, sputtering curse-words better known for those older than himself. She'd guessed he lived around here, he was always jogging
"Iggy... lovely to bump into you again."
"Yo, hey, lady! What'cha be doin' knockin' me over for! Tha' be mean."
"Apologies, dear," she muttered, taking a hold of his skinny arm and hoisting him to his feet. "You need to take me here," she said, hazel eyes boring into the kid's with a hint of urgency. He finally sighed, and she stood, taking a hold of his hand.
"Man, lady, ya needin' t'be findin' yer own way about this place. I gots things t'do, can't be leadin' ya 'round at all hours o' th'night."
"But you're so good at it." Eyes were bouncing around their surroundings once every few minutes, trying to keep a map of landmarks in her mind if she ever needed to find her way again. Another chime from somewhere to their left. Quarter to...
"There it be, lady, righ' there," Iggy said after they'd walked for a little more, hohlding out one of his arms. Brenna pocketed the card, took a deep breath, and squatted down in front of Iggy again, her little hand brushing along his dirty face. From all that transpired, it drove the thought from her mind - she was still hungry...
"Now Iggy... if this hurts, I apologize," much the same thing that she'd said to Basil, the thing that got her ass in the truble wagon. Perhaps from now on she wouldn't say anything, just do it.
"Wha-" he'd muttered, his hands going to her shoulders, little pushes given as she'd leaned to the dewey flesh of his neck. Perky fangs had lengthened and pierced through, causing a sharp gasp from Iggy, and she drank for only a few seconds, but those pulls were hard and forceful.
The tip of her tongue had jutted over the tiny puncture wounds, catching the last dribbles of blood that'd leaked. She brushed her fingers around his cheek, feeling a wetness that almost made her cry herself. "I'm sorry." She said straightening, the little box now held within both hands, the ribbon's bow being fiddled with as she stepped her bare footed way up to the door, took a deep breath. She brushed her hand across her lips, clearing them, and then slipping a tube out from her pack, reapplied a layer of royal purple. And Brenna knocked just as a stream of chimes sounded from the west.
Right on time.