people or stars;

        “ I can work with probably. ” Violet hadn’t read half the children’s books in the store, even the ones published or already out when they were a child. Finding the books in Polish was hard enough, scrapping up enough money to buy them was impossible. “ Probably. I haven’t read the book. Children’s books aren’t exactly something I make an effort to keep up to date on. They bare;y sell in a city with a constant nightlife that often. ” They looked at their phone, half tempted to play a game on it rather than continue to help the customer. A sigh escaped their lips and they slid the phone into their back pocket. “ In the end, I don’t actually know the kid. Just get what you think is right or whatever. ”

        Violet raised an eyebrow at the girl. “ You don’t know how old the kids you are buying books for are ? ” They paused. In the few weeks their bookstore had been open in Tromso, they rarely dealt with people looking for children’s books or really books at all. When in the Vatican, tourist wandered into their store each day and asked for warmhearted prayer books and decorative versions of the bible, things they only kept in stock because of the tourists that demanded them, and walked past classics copied in any of a dozen languages. They hated each experience. “ Depends on the age. Little Women is probably good for American third grade and up. Little Women isn’t terribly advanced, in my opinion. ”

“She’d probably be in third grade.” Ophelia bit her lip trying to visualize the little girl she was trying to buy the book for. Really if she wanted to get out of this exchange without much drama she’d have to just pretend that she knew enough, and if it turned out that she’d guessed all wrong then the book could stay hidden under her bed until the end of time. “Or uh- what about The Little Prince?” She hadn’t actually ever read the book, but she’d heard it mentioned enough for it to make an appearance in a Tromso bookstore. It was French, but they’d all been in Paris for a while. “That would probably work for a younger reader right?” She was trying not to show how flustered she was by the lack of information, especially as the salesclerk kept their cool through all her stumbling.

She glances over when she hears the voice, glad not to have been startled. Slipping on the icy stoop is a very real possibility and Clara doesn’t feel like suffering through a bruised behind —or anything else, for that matter. “I know..” Lowering her hand, she shoots a rather annoyed glance at the busted light. Still, that frustration doesn’t penetrate her voice. “I don’t really have one.” That would just be too handy. “And I’m not sure balancing on a chair is a great option in this weather.” That is asking for a broken bone. She’s not quite as resilient as the supernaturals she seems to fine herself surrounded by. 

A small sigh, glancing at the new bulb in her hand. “You guys can see in the dark, right? Am I wasting my time trying to change this?” Not to say there isn’t humans in the town, but their slowly becoming the minority. 

“No it’s definitely not.” She’d barely remained upright on some of the less traveled streets, the ice was deadly for someone not paying attention. And for someone who was going to have to precariously balance on a chair, it wasn’t even worth trying. She would have offered to help but her own physical abilities had never been up to par with the rest of her species. Too much time spent in her hometown and not enough time exploring the world. She was adjusting, but not enough to voluntarily offer her own strength. The next statement caught her off guard, even though she shouldn’t have been surprised that Clara knew so much. “I don’t know about everyone else- but I can see pretty well.” She shrugged, glancing around at all the other lights provided on the street.

        It seemed they spent more time cleaning up snow. mud and general filth tracked into their bookstore than they did selling books. After the first day of business in Tromso, they accepted the slow rate at which they got actual customers, however, they wouldn’t accept loitering. While grumbling at customers wasn’t the epitome of customer service, it made them the same amount of money as letting people loiter inside their store rather than buy anything. “ What age kid are you looking to get a book for ? That kind of affects things. Chapters for your average older kid, Typical run of the mills for kids under six and books in between for kids that fit in the middle of those categories. ” They shrugged. “ I have some chapter books, mostly scholastic shit. For little kids, I recommend something cutesy like just about anything by Eric Carle. ”

           “Oh hm well...” She trailed off for a moment, a puzzled expression falling on her face. She didn’t know how old Vasya was, once pressed for the information. She had to be older than ten, but there was nothing to validate that. And Liliana had to be four. Or five. “I don’t actually, know.” Of course having an age range was better than having nothing at all. She was going to buy a book whether she really wanted to or not, there was no way she was going to have bothered this sales clerk for nothing. “Both work. One of them...should be reading chapter books.” If it wasn’t a hit, then she could just say that either girl could grow into the book. It didn’t need to be a stressful choice, even thought she was already taking steps to over think it. “What about, uh, Little Women? Is that too advanced?”

     There was an enormous amount of comfort in doing such a mundane thing. Between being a single father again, to dealing with Council issues, the stress of everyday life was digging deep and the simple act of going out to grab groceries with a friend was a much needed break. Ashton was playing babysitter for the short time Eric would be gone, with Vasya finally warming up to the vampire enough to not throw a fit when left alone with him. It was a shame it had taken a war to bring Ophelia into his life. Now that he knew her, he regretted not giving her proper time and attention back in Altolusso. She was a calming presence in his life, and he could never get enough of that. With fingers tapping lightly on the cart, Eric’s eyes glanced down the aisle. “Bread is good. Kid’s got an addiction to french toast these days.” There was a light, genuine laugh as he recalled the sheer amount of food the pre-teen girl ingested these days. He underestimated how much a growing hybrid could eat in one sitting. “Oh yeah, grab some bagels too,” he confirmed, calling the request out over his shoulder as he reached for a loaf of wheat bread. Carrying the bread back to the cart, Eric gave it a gentle toss into the bottom before examining some raisin bread. “Hey–thanks for coming out tonight. I know it’s not the most exciting excursion but–thanks.” By the end of his words, his eyes were on the blonde and a gentle smile had found its way onto his face. “It’s kinda nice to just–be normal.”

          “French toast, I can do.” It was only a matter of eggs and toast, with a hint of cinnamon. Not that she was over very often cooking for people. Bringing over a tin of muffins that may or may not go uneaten- that was more her style. She’d been spending more and more time with Eric, at first it had just been because she needed somewhere to stay, and Chicago had been a safe place. But after months of staying, they’d become closer. Friends even, able to run errands together. She looked at the different bagel brands that were available, before settling on one obviously labelled PLAIN. “I don’t mind going shopping.” She didn’t quite make eye contact with him, but smiled all the same. It was nice to be acknowledged for the little things. Normal was the right word for it; they were just two people grocery shopping, no wars raging, no people counting on them. “I needed supplies too- purely selfish reasons.” She would have gone with him regardless of her own baking habits, but that seemed like too much to say in the middle of the fluorescent lit aisles. “I love talking the semantics of bread, you’ve given me an excuse.”

It’s dark, but that means little in relation to actual time. It’s always dark. That’s why their here, after all. What better place for those who can’t stand the light? But right now, it’s darker than Clara would like. The bulb at the front of the cafe has blown, leaving the stoop in shadow. Which would be fine for a business in any other part of the world, but not here. The light in what invites people in, welcomes them from the cold. And stops them tripping, of course. 

She supposes it hardly matters now,, since the cafe is closed for the night, but knowing she’s the first one back in the morning, Clara had resolved herself to fixing it before she left. A task that was harder than she’d first anticipated. Even on tip-toes, she wasn’t able to reach the fixture, clawing at the wall to help her balance doing nothing to actually increase her height. She’s by no means short, however it’s clear she’s over-estimated herself. A chair would probably help, but she’s not about to drag one out and attempt to stand on it when the ground is nothing but ice - that’s asking for trouble, and the dark haired girl doesn’t feel like receiving a bruised backside. Nor can she think of anything else inside the cafe that would hold her steady enough to get the job done. 

“Come on,” She mutters under her breath, biting her lip as she vainly reaches up again, fingers brushing at the blown bulb that’s just millimetres out of reach. 

          “Oh gosh-” Ophelia was just trying to mind her own business, the snow quieting the world. It was moments like these when she could forget who she was, why they were here. Of course with more people branching out from the cabins, she was actually starting to feel at home on the streets. They weren’t quite as crowded as Cardiff had been, and yet she still managed to stumble across someone she knew. She didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by presuming that she was friends with Clara, but she appreciated the softness that the other woman had. “Do you need help? I don’t actually, I can’t really...” She trailed off, unsure of what to do when it came to what Clara was attempting, she was unsure. “I think you need a step ladder.”

        Violet was born at a time Poland was officially non-existent, it’s territories split between Austria, Russia and Germany. Yet, that fact did not stop that their mother and many of the other Polish immigrants that frequented their church from speaking of it with a sense of nationalism would remain unrivaled in their centuries of life. After War World one ended, they moved to the nation that would have been their home if their family hadn’t moved before their birth. In Poland, they learned to appreciate the cold they cursed in New York. Yet the cold did not lead them to find loitering endearing, no matter the temperature. “ It’s a bookstore. I’m really betting most bookstores have children’s books. ” They rolled their eyes. Sighing, they gestured towards a shelf pressed against the left wall. and said, “ Children’s books are over there. If my memory serves me, it’s mostly Doctor Seuss books. ”

          “Yeah, of course, obviously.” She tried to force a smile onto her face, even in the face of a disgruntled clerk. They weren’t completely in the wrong, she imagined that having people come in just to mess up the displays and track slush across the carpet. But she was stuck with her choice now, so she nodded at the direction and made her way over to the section. A large part of her wanted to be quiet and disappear into the store, totally ignored until she could make a quick purchase and leave. But she could feel their eyes on her, “I’m terrible with picking out books for people, especially kids.” “I tried to read Oh The Places You’ll Go! and” She scrunched up her face with distaste, “No one said it was going to be sad, it’s just a book.”

@opheliajcmes

        Violet hated the snow, not because of the cold or the inconvenience it caused. but because people felt snow meant they could loiter in their bookstore. Despite their personal feelings about snow, snow fell at a steady, if not heavy, rate outside, obscuring their view outside. As they reread The Son of Neptune, their copy in Polish, they hoped that the snow meant no one would wander into their store hoping for a place safe from the cold. At the sound of the bell ringing, they looked up and scrunched their face at the blonde girl that entered. “ Buy something or get out. ”

          It always seemed that when she thought there couldn’t be a colder destination for the council to send everyone, they picked a place even higher north. And this time it was paired with a truly astonishing amount of snow. She dived into the closest door, which turned out to be a quaint bookshop. In her time at Tromso she hadn’t spent much of the time trying to shop, and now she didn’t particularly want anything to read. But the greeting was not conductive to just making small talk and waiting for the weather to calm. “Oh sure, yes- I can...” Her eyes wandered the immediate shelves hoping to appease the clerk, “Do you have short stories? Or, kids books, I guess?” That didn’t sound like too much commitment, she could just pick through it and leave them for either Eric or Morrigan. “I never really know.”

Despite the situation at hand, Darcy was pleased to see so many rise to the occasion and take charge. For many of them this wasn’t the first war they’d faced, but others? Well, even being an immortal didn’t prepare you for some things. The medbay was already in full swing, everyone trying their damnest to prepare for what was to come. Lives were going to be lost. Others would suffer injuries that changed their lives forever. This was the one place that could wake the anxiety in his chest and cause Darcy to question everything he’d done. Had they made the right choice? Darcy had been gently pushing his way through bodies to reach a cart of supplies, a woman standing next to it. He looked up, taking a moment to process her question. “Um–yeah, actually. Yeah.”

“Do you know where they’re keeping the blood bags? I think someone moved them down here–I was gonna pack some to take out on the field.” Blood could do wonders for their kind. Not only was it their main source of substance, it could mean the difference between life and death in some situations. It could kick your healing factor in the ass and get you back on your feet.

It was a direct question- simple, to the point; he was clearly in a rush and needed the supplies as soon as possible because this was WAR. But it took her a moment to fully process the question and even longer to think of an acceptable answer. If it wasn’t on the cart next to her, then it would have to be further towards the back, and that was all she really knew. Which she was trying to find a way to iterate without all the words coming apart in half sentences and mumbled words. “It’s, they should be in the back.” There, in the middle of chaos was the an answer. She gestured behind her, towards where the streams of people died down, and there was only a few things left. “There’s a fridge or something.” Which was less eloquent, but she couldn’t be expected to know everything. And yet he gave her a shining opportunity to hide for a few minutes, away from being asked to do anything more terrible. “I’ll help you pack them up.”