Logs:Eclectically Chill

Eclectically Chill
Dramatis Personae Alestair, Desi
In Absentia Lucien	2024-11-16 "The first rule of the craft is to say what you mean."
Location <NYC> Alestair's Esoterica and Floristry - Greenwich Village
Alestair’s Esoterica and Floristry was a clearly a gas station at one point, but has underwent some pretty drastic remodeling starting with a fresh coat of black paint and green accents splattered around. Where rows of coolers once sat are now bookshelves filled with everything from gardening advice to the proper way to read tarot cards. Bones and charms litter the floor space in glass cases, as well as divination tools and bundles of blue sage and items for an altar. The other half of the store is dedicated solely to flowers, carrying everything from roses to delphinium. Those with a keen eye and knowledge of magical runes would also know that outside of the mundane this store also carries genuine alchemical supplies and enchanted items. The door opens softly, and closes softly too, behind the young woman it admits. She's tall, slender, and plain, but moves with a whimsical balletic grace that belies her sharply tailored pinstripe suit and no-nonsense three inch pumps. She has her brown hair pinned up neatly, her makeup tastefully subtle and subtle accenting her brilliant green eyes. She coasts to a stop just inside the door and gazes around the shop with an incipient smile. When she moves again it's toward the bookshelves, tilting her head to examine the titles. Alestair sits behind the counter primed to greet whichever customer might walk in next, a warm smile stretches the corners of his mouth upwards and his black gloved hands clasp together in front of him. "Welcome to my shop, if there's anything I can do to be of assistance do let me know." He's dressed in a white button down, a gold necktie with black pin stripping tied in an eldredge knot, a vibrant gold paisley waistcoat, a pair of black pants, and a black cloak pinned about his shoulders with a gold alchemical sun symbol over the left breast. "If there's anything in particular you're looking for and I don't carry it, I can add it to the next order." Desi turns toward Alestair, and the smile she was already developing blooms bright in answer to his. "Anything?" She draws this word out as if she were just pleased with the sound of it. "I was just browsing, but now I'm tempted to meet that challenge." She doesn't sound entirely serious. She doesn't sound entirely facetious, either. "Metaphysical supplies run a such a wide gamut, though--flowers, also." She orbits the shelves toward the counter, looking over the shelves with a critical eye. "Are you the proprietor?" "Anything." Alestair repeats, his own smile creeping slightly larger as he motions towards a section near the books containing an assortment of dried flowers, insect pieces, and crystals. "If you're looking for something more... exotic, I may have something on hand." He lowers his hand and dips his head in a nod, "Alestair von Hohenheim, at your service." She studies him for a beat, one eyebrow ever so slightly raised, though it lowers again when she replies "Desi. Enchanté." She's still smiling, intrigued. "What sorts of things do your customers special order? What do you consider 'exotic'?" There's a faintly teasing quality to this, and she leans closer to examine a display of salt, sand, soil, and powders. "I worked at an occult bookshop once, and the sheer variety of tarot decks that apparently exist out there is boggling." “The standard things like dragon claws or sap from Yggdrasil.” Clearly it’s Alestair’s turn to tease. He finally pushes to his feet and stretches until his joints audibly pop, causing him to let out a little relieved sigh. “There are a few different types, and countless artistic choices. I’m partial to knuckle bones myself.” Desi looks delighted. "Mm. So you just know a guy who bribes the world tree squirrel for spell ingredients?" She look down into the glass case in front of her, then back at Alestair, her expression momentarily inscrutable. "For divining or gambling?" She tilts her head at him minutely. "Seeing as you are a connoisseur, what would you consider the best bones for hand-carving?" “Ratatoskr is actually delightful, as long as you remember your manners.” Alestair has a far off look for a moment, almost like he’s reliving a pleasant memory. “Divination, I don’t have the luck for gambling.” He goes silent for a moment to think. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter which animal so long as you’re making them yourself. The bond you have with your tools is the most important part of personal magics.” "I definitely did not remember his name," Desi admits, smile skewing lopsided. "Even though every time I hear it, I think 'oh, that should be easy to remember'. But I am not the artist, and I'm non-practicing. I just want to give her something to shape." She finally arrives at the counter and studies the man behind it. "Are you Heathen? Asatru?" The question sounds fairly neutral. "Or just eclectically chill with Ratatoskr?" "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I've been day drinking with the Asgardians?" Alestair props himself up on the counter, his right hand sounding oddly heavy against the wood. It's only now that he really looks at Desi, his mouth falling in a thoughtful frown, "Speaking of which, you bear a resemblance to another of my occasional customers. I gather he's quite famous, but I'm hopelessly out of the loop with most modern entertainment." Desi raises both her eyebrows, now. "It does seem unlikely, but not unbelievable." Her eyes flick down to the counter when his hand settles there, though perhaps it was just a demure lowering of her eyes that matches her shy smile. "Is the resemblance in the eye region?" The question is evidently rhetorical. "My brother, Lucien. He might well have been day drinking with at least one Asgardian, and supplies the voice of another in a rather enjoyable film. I shouldn't be surprised that he comes--here." The stutter between the last two words is barely noticeable, and she moves with alacrity though not haste. "Do you read bones for your customers? Or cards, or runes, or anything of the sort?" Alestsir claps his hands together once excitedly, “Yes, that’s him! I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Thor, but I have feasted with Volstagg. I could spend eons listening to his tales.” He lets out a longing sigh before settling his gaze back on Desi, “While divination isn’t my niche, I am capable. If you’re certain you wish to know.” "I'm sure the bones don't lie." Desi sounds very sincere about this. "But if they do, well. I can also appreciate a good lie or two. Either way, I most certainly want to know." "The first rule of the craft is to say what you mean. Your words carry more weight than you realize and one poorly phrased sentence could have horrible consequences." Alestair is suddenly darkly serious, any trace of the former lightheartedness is gone. "There are an infinite number of branching paths before you, an unquantafiable number of realities where the smallest decision resulted in a world you wouldn't recognize." as he speaks he takes a step away, unclasping his cloak and hanging it on a nearby coat rack. "Very few things are set in stone, the future is always changing up until the very moment we grasp it, so do not be disheartened if this affirms some fear. There is always time to change." He returns to the counter and produces a small velvet pouch from underneath it before setting his gaze firmly on Desi. "Now, tell me what burdens you."