briar rose

the  bookstore  smells  like  paper  and  pipe  tobacco,  the  latter  only  faintly  —  the  scent  lingering  in  the  spines  of  the  ancient  volumes  belin  works  to  restore.  outside,  fabletown  moves  like  a  body  in  mourning,  slow  and  careful  in  its  limbs,  as  though  too  loud  a  step  might  provoke  whatever  darkness  had  ascended  on  the  town  in  the  earlier  weeks.  belin  is  cataloguing  first  editions  next  to  a  candle,  although  the  power  works  just  fine.  it's  the  ambiance  she  prefers:  the  flickering  kind,  golden  and  secretive  and  casting  shadows  among  the  shelves. 

as  the  bell  above  the  door  sings  out,  her  hand  pauses  over  a  worn  anthology  —  fairy  tales,  naturally,  though  most  of  those  inscribed  in  the  tome  are  too  worn  or  foreign  to  be  marketable  anymore.  “be  mindful  where  you  step,”  her  voice  calls  out  softly,  her  attention  still  focused  on  the  manuscript  in  her  hands.  “i've  just  received  a  new  shipment  and  haven't  had  a  moment  to  unpack  them  yet.”  head  absentmindedly  nods  towards  the  packed  boxes  lingering  near  the  front  of  the  store,  cardboard  scuffed  and  stamped  with  the  sigil  of  the  local  courier.  she  tucks  a  lock  of  stray  hair  behind  her  ear  as  her  gaze  finally  rises,  sweeping  the  door  frame  with  a  patient  kind  of  weight.  her  blouse  is  unbuttoned  at  the  collar,  sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbow;  she  does  not  mourn  in  black,  but  rather  muted  tones  of  bruised  violets  and  dried  wine.  “can  i  help  you  find  anything  ?” 

BRIAR CAME ARMED WITH A SURPLUS OF COMFORTS ; amongst them ( handmade candles , oil perfumes , pressed flowers ) ; a basked of fresh baked goods . steam had still been rolling off the blueberry lemon lavender loaf when briar had wrapped it in cloth , dew still fresh atop the berries she had cut and portioned into ceramic dishes . she even had some grounds of coffee stuck beneath her nails from when she had portioned them into a brown paper bag . she's balancing the gifts in her arms as she nudges open the door to belin's place with her hip , looking up through a curtain of windswept blonde to squint in the other's direction .

" belin !! " briar greets , an air of floral and optimism following her into the bookstore , moving with a swan's grace around the aforementioned shipment that ornamented the shops floor . " you poor dear , you ought to ask me for help when you need it . " though she'd be lying to herself if she were to say her floral shop wasn't without business at the moment ( flowers often accompanying mourning ) — but she hated to see a friend up to her neck in work .

" i brought you some gifts , " briar lifts the basket , her smile as warm as its contents . " — thought you might night a spoil or two . or three . "