The first object in Evelyn’s new shop to hurl itself from the shelf and shatter on the floor was an aging teapot. It was made of a delicate china, and decorated with pale blue Delphiniums, and was ninety-seven years old (give or take a year or two), and it made a wind-whistling sound as it whisked through the air and impacted with the opposite wall.
It was 8:15 in the evening, and it was her first full day in Boreas Curios, Antiques, and Oddities. Grand Opening Day, proclaimed the vinyl banner over the door. She had been feeling rather pleased with herself. Transplanting one’s self to a whole other state and opening a new business was no easy task, and, truth be told, she had wondered whether or not she would crash and burn before even getting off the ground.
True, it was still early days, and she was still sleeping on her Aunt Olivia’s couch until she could find a place of her own. She’d keep her fingers crossed. And her toes, for good measure. But she was determined to stay well away from Wisteria.
Too many bad memories there.
Jacob, the gangly, freckled, teenaged hireling she had spent the day training on the cash register and inventory computer, had gone home at three when his shift ended, leaving her to man the shop by herself. She didn’t mind. It was surprisingly and pleasantly quiet in Boreas, far more than she would have anticipated in a bustling (and far, far too loud) city like Chicago, and she had a lot on her mind.
For instance, flying teapots.
Evelyn lowered her book and peered at the fragmented porcelain scattered over the carpet, lips pursed in an expression better described as perturbed than frightened. Then she looked around the room, eyes scanning the walls, the ceiling, the air vents. She wasn’t quite certain what she was looking for. A cyclonic draft, maybe.
Her shoulders heaved in a sigh, and she slid from her little wooden stool in search of a broom and dustpan.
it was the first thing harry thought as he looked at the store-front his homing spell had brought him to. curiosity stores - they were a nightmare! cursed items, haunted objects, old, lost relics from the nevernever- somehow they always showed up in these damn stores, and usually it was impossible to tell what exactly was causing the trouble, if it was only one thing. once, harry had dealt with six — six!! — magical items in one spell ( ha- ha ), had destroyed half of the store in his efforts to dispel the trouble, and had left the storeowner with his bill, six less enchanted items, and six thousand dollars worth of damages.
he had been younger then, of course. but still- when the shit stunk? it stunk. and from the front of this store, harry wrinkled his nose and grasped his staff a little more tightly, tucking his pendant back into his shirt. and then he pushed open the door, a little tinkle of the bell announcing his entrance just in time to see the proprietor grasp the handle of a broom. harry arched an eyebrow, glancing at the shattered pieces of porcelain on the floor.
❛ damn. must’ve been one hell of a tea party. almost sorry i missed it. ❜
stormborns
baratheonpilled
titsay
