#patchworked magician

"Reminds me, of my beloved, into their face it must be shoved!"

The shopkeeper themself is not much different, a gnarled old plush cat wearily letting out a raspy sound somewhere between a groan and a trill as they awaken, having fallen asleep at the counter. A faded purple and orange ear flicks towards a sudden whistling heard from far in the back, and slowly but surely, they rise. Their poor face, now with only one dark cloudy eye, and the other being an almost comically oversized button, has a weary expression as they hobble onto their feet. The old cat's tail, tattered and worn, drags behind them as they limp into the back.

Nestled behind the shelves and displays sits a little kitchen, with an old iron stove and a table covered in a lacy cloth and covered with mismatched teacups and plates. The cat digs out one of several teapots, and gets to work. The whistling of the kettle quiets as it's plucked from the top of the stove, and the soft clutter of glass bottles is heard in its place. An array of various herbs, teas, spices and dried flowers are layed out.

The cat carefully inspects each, holding the labels up close to their face in order to get a good look at them. Once they've found the right ingredient, the container is opened, and the cat gets to adding pawfuls of it to the teapot. One, two, three scoops of black tea, a dash or two of poppy seeds, chamomile flowers and a little pick-me-up of catnip added for good measure. Once finished, the jars of tea go back into the cabinet and the hot water goes into teapot.

They'll have to make two trips, and- ah curse their old leg, they'd left their cane back at the storefront. Cupping the teapot in their fluffy paws, they lean in and whisper something, like hundreds of voices speaking at once to the teapot. A few moments pass, until small bright sparks and stars begin to dance around it, and it seems to almost merrily hover away back to the countertop, coming to rest on an ancient, tea stained doily. The cat takes a few small sniffs towards the teacups, and picks one already resting on a plate. With that in tow, they limp back to the storefront.

They ease themself back into an old armchair at the counter, and after taking a moment's rest, pour a cup of tea. A flick of one of their ears, and the front door to the store unlocks in an instant, the latches clicking open loudly, and a little hand embroidered sign flips around from "CLOSED" to "OPEN". And of course, the cane that'd been forgotten by the door hops over to the side of the armchair. The old cat settles in to the armchair, and blowing away a bit of steam, take a sip of tea.

"Ah, another day... Or night perhaps. I suppose it doesn't matter. But always best to pass the time somehow"