Coffee sweets and a Fergotten Lunch

She looked about the beige walls of the tastefully lit coffee shop, seeking shelter from the rain and a cozy drink to enjoy the warmth; but the dreary weather brought more and more people in, all sharing the singular hive-mindedness to escape the heavy mizzle. Sharing in their inconveniences, the cloaked witch sifted past the bodies of women and men wanting to make their orders on the dot, and patiently sat on the only available stool adjacent to the sleeping beauty.

The musical tune soothed her ears in the monstrous wave of chatter, in the swarm of nonsense striking the air. The smell was tantalizing enough for her to seem momentarily impatient for the chance to order her whip-creamed top delight; but, alas, she had to make the line for it and she relapsed back into a quiet state of calm with that logic.

Things non sequitur would spill from the lips of customers waiting, and she loosely listened to how their day went, how aunt Flora was going to one day open her own restaurant, how Delilah’s daughter was going to ‘marry’ a human instead of a proper gaiyan— Noor was mildly distracted now— but tuned out the noise almost instantly upon finding a small cylinder bit of parchment hiding in the mysterious pocket of her cloak.

She pulled it out like a smooth magician and allowed her eyes to move over the glossy surface of the counter. She was wary of smaller spills soiling her unwritten letter. So, she went the extra mile, gingerly tucked the scroll under her arm, and opened up the sacrificial napkin before pressing it down on the counter to absorb the hidden residue.

All clean.

Folding the napkin, she pushed it to the side and trusted nothing would happen to the parchment as she laid it down. She whipped out yet another item from her pocket. A very useful feather with magical properties. It would produce ink for the hour after use so she knew she had to be quick. The words flowed naturally on the parchment:


‘You tried a thousand times to reach me. You then thought to yourself, “let us try a thousand and one.”

I’m afraid we’ll be one of the ones who miss each other their whole life.

Did you know? There is only one day in the year that nothing can be done.

Yesterday.

There is also a day in the year where everything can be done.

Tomorrow.

Example: you could forgive me in person. I've risen from the dead to write to you, after all.

Write to me once you’ve settled on a tomorrow of your liking. You have many of them to choose from.

I’d like to see you.’

Before she could end it properly, a young barista had been looking over her shoulder, her long ponytail swaying prettily behind her as she laughed herself silly over a light joke. The bubbly mood of the girl turned to helplessness as her grip loosened and out came the boiling hot liquid. The latte, freshly made, poured over the counter seconds before it could nearly destroy her unsent letter.

Noor was so quick to snag it that it remained unharmed in her arms, but what she failed to notice in time was the fragrant stream cascading over the edge and drenching her exposed thighs. Her eyes of furious amber grew in size, unwitting tears fleeing them in small drops, as sucked in an agonizing breath.

It wasn’t that her pain tolerance was so high that she didn’t consider screaming into the void, she just didn’t want to draw more attention to herself than what was already garnered. She wasn’t invincible to the dreadful sensation, of course, and couldn’t keep the deadly combination of incredibly pained and annoyed off her face as the barista tried to help the hooded woman with a mantra of apologies on her lips.

Noor could see the subtle welts starting form along her skin. She could also see the impending doom that would soon befall the sweet girl.

Getting over her own discomfort, she might have been too late to inform the young woman of the slippery floor; but the closeted eldritch swiftly turned on her heel like a dancer and wrapped a slender arm around the falling Gaiyan to prevent her from making a direct collision with the table— where the pink-haired lapin slept.

She swung her into the arms of her fellow barista, unable to save herself as she crashed stupidly into the occupied table. Still clutching the letter to her chest, not realizing it was crumpling under the pressure, the witch saw more stars than the darkest night.

A bruise to compliment the right side of her torso— delightful.

She slumped to the floor like a rag doll and contemplated her entire existence there.

She was angry.

“I foresee,” she told the restful lapin with a heavy accent lacing her words like velvet, so soft, “an incident report.”

She pulled the hood back with a fire in her veins. Her eyes darkened through her frizzy bangs as she looked upon the ghastly letter. Then she touched her tender ribs with a sigh and did her best not to be ‘that customer’.

NOTES ;All this in short. Noor sat down, got burned by the nice barista holding the latte. Slippery floors, yay, said barista also slips and Noor saves her— lo and behold she crashes into your table.

Then she saw the cool sheen of the knife; and, after coming to the slow conclusion that she might’ve been in danger, only moved her eyes in a hesitating manner to see who was responsible for this absurdity.

She held her breath, lips slightly parted, with no helpful words to say. This wasn’t a first for her, having gone through many experiences of the like during the Holy War, but the knife was too close to properly deflect without triggering the most unwanted outcome she could think of.

Finally the stranger came to her senses, a decision that favored both, and hastily dropped her weapon.

Noor was the bewildered victim towards whom almost every helpless eye was turned, and the Lapin was the smooth-tongued woman by whom she reluctantly seated herself; and the kind way she spoke of which she took careful care to maintain, though it was only on Noor being so deeply stewed in her shock that rendered her momentarily submissive enough to tolerate the staggering madness of such complacent behavior, no matter how slight.

Noor’s unpleasant experience, something she sourly noticed,  seemed to sink into insignificance; to the sheep in the crowd the young barista was charming, pretty enough to sway their good judgement of the precarious nature of her previous doing and so she appeared to beguile them into a state of numb, comfortable acceptance by brushing everything they had fearfully witnessed under the rug — all with positive reassurance and big beautiful eyes.

The Lapin found almost immediate success in calming such a mindless audience down, but the threatened little witch was learning to become yet another chess piece on the opposing team emotionally, and this one in particular had a most unwilling mouth on her.

She hardly loosened her grip on the letter, and with unsteady breath conjured a stern glance that could burn through flesh and stone if she so had the power. Unfortunately, her magic was of the soothing kind and, as was its purpose, it very much ensnared those within her focus into a restful slumber from which most rather enjoyed and needed.

She rolled her eyes up to the server that told this ‘Kat’ how it was still her break. The pink-haired woman seemed to understand more than anyone the direness of the situation.

She was strangely appalled how no one seemed to speak up against the vile display, and roughly blew the hair from her eyes to convey the intense disdain that could already be seen in the manner that she smoothed out the letter in her hands, almost obsessively. Any harder and she could have certainly ripped it apart.

Having daggers of gold for eyes, she stared the taller woman down and rolled up her precious parchment—not very smoothly. She fumbled to find the inner pocket of her cloak until she felt the opening and pushed it right in. She snapped her head up to meet the apologetic face and the contrite ‘sorry’ that left her plush lips. Noor seemed to consider it, just a smidge, until she mentioned — so sweetly — that she had startled her, and that further rubbed the petulant eldritch the wrong way.

Back to square one and sinking deeper into her seat, lanky arms crossed and overall posture sagging, Noor was becoming very distant and rather hard to reach.

Before too long she flinched a little as the soreness of her thighs and ribs reminded her of their woes.

Katsumi was warmly persistent as she apologized a second time, only, this time it was to excuse the sound her stomach was making, and Noor used this light-hearted moment to recollect herself and remain calm.  

She brought an index finger to her swarthy chin to give it a few thoughtful taps; gazed pensively at the hungry barista, back to the flock of curious workers adjusting to the gossip in their wagging tongues.

Parting the sea of shamelessly nosy girls and boys was an older, primly-dressed woman with silvery hair and hands that trembled as she carried two plates filled to the brim with sandwiches and sweets.

Bountiful offerings were instantly brought to their table by the head herself, and because Noor hailed from a tribe of generous and thoughtful gift-givers, this was an excellent form of de-escalation.

The scrawny one, attracted by the sight of a meal bigger than her stomach, was still listening to the honey-hearted go on about the rain and her younger sibling; and, when she recalled to mind the noise her tummy made, the inviting hand that indicated to the assortment of sandwiches belonged to the once very agitated Noor. This was an earnest invitation to eat with her, though her heart was not free from the level of distrust, she kept her eyes locked onto her every move, any and all sharp-ended utensils were quickly spotted and kept a distance away from herself.

She would not eat until she was sure the Lapin had taken her first bite. While this was a tradition reserved for the tribe’s elders, Noor did not want to come off as a cold soul, even if much of her earlier rudeness was justified.

However, there were things that had to be addressed in order to come to a plausible compromise, no matter the ugliness of her demands.

“Without a doubt, each visitor here today will spread the story after they depart. I should ensure the tale is as complementary to my case as possible.” Said Noor. Of tone her voice was a sweet caress to the ears, but of meaning — it was the sharpest graze of a nail.  

Eyes squinting, lit with an inner glow of mischief without losing the effectiveness of her wording: “I do have an idea that could benefit everyone and keep this from escalating beyond a legal threat.”

“Listen closely!” she half-whispered, making sure all eyes were on her, before staking her claim on the prize. “I, Noor, humbly request a lifetime supply of food and drinks.”

Oh, she couldn’t forget the last and most important detail: “It must be free.”

She gave them a rather mystical nod for such a simple desire. She thought it was rather reasonable. Why wouldn’t it be? A life was worth more than an endless stream of brand edibles.

She charmingly crinkled her nose with an innocent smile, her mood shifting like night to day.

The supervisor felt it was beyond her to make it happen, but she didn’t dare deny the possibility of it coming to be. This was a matter to elevate and, hopefully, honor. She scurried away to leave the two women alone, still trembling.

She acknowledged Katsumi with the same smile from before.

“Red flags and butterflies all feel the same, when all you know is fight or flight.” Noor said, taking a small bite out of her sandwich.

NOTES ;So rambly!