CryoLilly
Witch in the Ice
The fog had been heavy that morning, a heavy rolling cloud which had enveloped Canter in the depths of night. Those who fell asleep to the drab, though clearer weather of evening, awoke to streets so clogged in white that it was a struggle for most to get to work. The visibility was so poor that traffic slowed to a crawl of anxious drivers peering over the tops of their steering wheels, straining their eyes for the hint of tail lights that rarely appeared. Even pedestrians found themselves taking longer to get anywhere, though not for a slower pace. No, instead they found themselves wandering in streets feeling so vacant and empty that even familiar landmarks became alien and disconcerting. Or maybe that was just Ciara. She certainly had felt utterly lost on her late-morning excursion to a nearby Oldtown coffee shop. No matter that it was a path she could, and honestly probably had, walk in her sleep, she had kept getting turned around. So when she got there, brushing a thin coating of slick water off of her jacket and pushing her long shock of currently bright pink hair out of her face, her typical to-go order had turned into chaining coffee in a cozy armchair off to the side of the shop, a heavy book open on the rickety table before her. She tapped the pen against the wooden surface rhythmically, stopping with an apologetic smile whenever one of the few other patrons shot her a dirty look only to resume absentmindedly a few minutes later.
The coffee shop itself was always a pleasant haunt for her, the benefits of living in old town to Ciara was the slightly higher concentration of Faebound who lived and operated in the area, attracted by the winding streets and the strange comfort of creaky old buildings. When you're familiar with all the floorboards, it's easy to tell when a stranger tries to move through your space. She'd begun frequenting the coffee shop for much the same reason. The owners themselves were Faebound, and while not all the employees or patrons were it was still a pleasant space for her kind, as mismatched as they were. It was one of those comfortable places where time seemed to stretch, where you'd almost expect to find a fireplace to sit around. They served excellent coffee in mugs that Ciara wasn't totally sure they hadn't bought stylistically pre-chipped and all the furniture was just rickety enough without feeling actually unsteady. The place felt like it had been in the community for decades and there were probably 3 new shops in Riverside trying to be just like it, ones that were far more prosperous. Ciara had spent far too much time and money here in the last few years, and was comfortably among the three places anybody who knew her might look for her, her bookstore, the coffee shop, and a local pub. She found she... didn't get out all too much.
She turned from the tome before her, having read the same three lines again and again for the last few minutes now, the fog had mercifully let up some, and while it was hardly clear she could at least make out the buildings on the other side of the street now, and make out the light drizzle dampening the pocked asphalt of the street as pedestrians tromped past, huddled in coats or under futile umbrellas. She found it almost melancholy to lose the intensity of the fog from that morning, it had been oddly fun to be that isolated in a pocket of the city, the visibility almost nothing, and entirely white windows had made the coffee shop even more cozy. But of course it was probably better for everyone that the city be allowed to breathe. Besides she had received an order for some odd tomes that had come into her collection. She thought they might be worth a look and had turned out to pique the interest of some folks over at the Alchemists' guild in their ever eager pursuit of gold. The pompous ass she had been dealing with refused to come down to the store so she supposed they might sent someone to collect, or she might just have to hire someone to run them over. She didn't particularly relish the thought of heading to their office downtown. She wrinkled her nose at the thought and shoved it from her mind, turning to reach for the handle of her coffee, already knowing it'd be lukewarm and finishing it anyway. For a moment, for a moment she could imagine the tower of cups she could have made with all that she'd drank that day, a rickety stack of ceramic that might well reach above her head at this point. With an amused smile directed inward, she stood with her emptied cup and brought it back to the counter to order another drink, a London Fog this time. The barista rolled her eyes at the order and it made Ciara wonder just how many terrible jokes about the name she often endured in a town as foggy as Cantrel.
She headed back to her corner and her tome, finally moving on to the next paragraph, her eyes scanning the strange cryptic letters that to any passer by would look like nothing more than a popular novel, or perhaps to the discerning, complete gibberish. Just a little while longer, she told herself as the barista set her drink on the table with the click of the cup against the saucer. She got most of her business in the evening anyway, it wasn't like missing a bit longer would be too much of a hit. She told herself the weather would drive away business too, but she was fooling herself to think that it'd deter most members of their strange community.
The coffee shop itself was always a pleasant haunt for her, the benefits of living in old town to Ciara was the slightly higher concentration of Faebound who lived and operated in the area, attracted by the winding streets and the strange comfort of creaky old buildings. When you're familiar with all the floorboards, it's easy to tell when a stranger tries to move through your space. She'd begun frequenting the coffee shop for much the same reason. The owners themselves were Faebound, and while not all the employees or patrons were it was still a pleasant space for her kind, as mismatched as they were. It was one of those comfortable places where time seemed to stretch, where you'd almost expect to find a fireplace to sit around. They served excellent coffee in mugs that Ciara wasn't totally sure they hadn't bought stylistically pre-chipped and all the furniture was just rickety enough without feeling actually unsteady. The place felt like it had been in the community for decades and there were probably 3 new shops in Riverside trying to be just like it, ones that were far more prosperous. Ciara had spent far too much time and money here in the last few years, and was comfortably among the three places anybody who knew her might look for her, her bookstore, the coffee shop, and a local pub. She found she... didn't get out all too much.
She turned from the tome before her, having read the same three lines again and again for the last few minutes now, the fog had mercifully let up some, and while it was hardly clear she could at least make out the buildings on the other side of the street now, and make out the light drizzle dampening the pocked asphalt of the street as pedestrians tromped past, huddled in coats or under futile umbrellas. She found it almost melancholy to lose the intensity of the fog from that morning, it had been oddly fun to be that isolated in a pocket of the city, the visibility almost nothing, and entirely white windows had made the coffee shop even more cozy. But of course it was probably better for everyone that the city be allowed to breathe. Besides she had received an order for some odd tomes that had come into her collection. She thought they might be worth a look and had turned out to pique the interest of some folks over at the Alchemists' guild in their ever eager pursuit of gold. The pompous ass she had been dealing with refused to come down to the store so she supposed they might sent someone to collect, or she might just have to hire someone to run them over. She didn't particularly relish the thought of heading to their office downtown. She wrinkled her nose at the thought and shoved it from her mind, turning to reach for the handle of her coffee, already knowing it'd be lukewarm and finishing it anyway. For a moment, for a moment she could imagine the tower of cups she could have made with all that she'd drank that day, a rickety stack of ceramic that might well reach above her head at this point. With an amused smile directed inward, she stood with her emptied cup and brought it back to the counter to order another drink, a London Fog this time. The barista rolled her eyes at the order and it made Ciara wonder just how many terrible jokes about the name she often endured in a town as foggy as Cantrel.
She headed back to her corner and her tome, finally moving on to the next paragraph, her eyes scanning the strange cryptic letters that to any passer by would look like nothing more than a popular novel, or perhaps to the discerning, complete gibberish. Just a little while longer, she told herself as the barista set her drink on the table with the click of the cup against the saucer. She got most of her business in the evening anyway, it wasn't like missing a bit longer would be too much of a hit. She told herself the weather would drive away business too, but she was fooling herself to think that it'd deter most members of their strange community.
