#emorystarling

Despite her best attempts to avoid it, sometimes supernatural society finds her. This time, it takes the form of a fairly athletic witch that looks a little too sad for this world that somehow had managed to become a regular in the few months she had owned the shop. Fairly innocuous, if it not where for the fact that she is the one supposed to look a little to sad for this world. She is fairly sure the pretty asshole didn't lose all of the members of his coven and his memories, so what does he have to be all depressed about? Yurena almost feels offended for having her whole shtick stolen from her, almost.

Unfortunately, the sad-looking regular is a regular, meaning that he also has taste. She can't quite bring up the energy to feel offended when he is clearly a man that understands the finer pleasures of life. The finer pleasures, of course, being the haunted books she peddled with. She is watching him look through the books in mild amusement, when a question pops into her head and she just has to know.

"I don't mind you visiting, it's hilarious really," she says slowly, eyebrows lifting in curiosity. "But don't you have better things to do than play with ghosts? Like, I don't know, hang out with real living people?"

She is, in fact, ignoring the fact that she only hangs out with spirits, because she is an hypocrite and it's none of the regular's damn business anyway.

The Full Moon calls to it's wolves, bringing out their instincts beyond the usual glimpses allowed to those who do not belong in their ranks. Regina's temper was always frayed thin during this time of the month, the vicious urge to protect her path is overwhelming. Over the years, she has learned to hold it back, keep the snarl just below the surface, but that trained reflex took work and ritual. Which meant that as soon as she opened her pantry and realized that she was out of lavender and chamomile for her full moon tea blend, she was pissed.

Going to a witch's shop so close to the full moon rankled, her hackles raising at the thought of entering into what her instinct called foreign territory so near the full moon. It triggered her worst instincts, but she manages to keep them back. She wants her tea and she will get it.

There was something nice about being places that were least expected. Not that anyone who actually knew the abomination a little better wouldn’t expect him to perch himself at a tall cafe chair, as it was always a favorite, cappuccino resting delicately in front of his regal silhouette. Quickly he had found that the coffee shop would open the front windows on days like this, allowing a breeze to come in and bring in all the bustle from the city streets. Isaac would sit and pretend he was reading the Rolling Stones magazine or listening on headphones to anything other than the conversations surrounding him, though that was usually hardly true. Eavesdropping was a natural talent, but that could probably be said about most of the demons that wandered the earth and hellscape. All having their own reasons for their descent didn’t mean they weren’t the same sides of a coin. The abomination long ago grew bored with the constant ways of those like himself, which is why his ears perked at the rambled conversation of a witch just within earshot.