Logs:The Traveler, The Wizard, and The Wager

The Traveler, The Wizard, and The Wager
Dramatis Personae Alestair, Harm
In Absentia	2024-12-21 "It's good to see that the old ways haven't been forgotten entirely."
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 store has been painstakingly redecorated to be more in tune with the season and upcoming festivities with garland strung, vibrant evergreen trees decorated with golden suns and what appear to be candles (though if one were to get too close the flickering flames do not give off heat), and in addition to the usual herbs and flowers a collection of comfrey, horsetail, and mullein have been arranged for the customers. Alestair himself is balanced precariously on the top of a stool with a duster in one hand cleaning the top of a bookshelf, humming along to the soft lyre music that fills his shop. The mess of blonde hair atop his head has been pulled back into a low ponytail, showing off the platinum hoop in his left ear. The rest of him is, as always, covered by an expensive looking blue button down tucked into and equally expensive looking pair of black slacks, and his hands are covered by black gloves. Almost on cue he glances back towards the door and steps off of the stool and walks back to the counter to put the duster away, waiting for it to swing open. The customer slipping in from the cold now is dressed bright and festive in a long woven rainbow tunic that glitters with gold threads, black wrap pants, gray suede boots, and a voluminous red cloak draped like a toga, an impression that's helped along by a matching phrygian cap. Maybe it's jarring that the person under all this neoclassical finery is distinctly East Asian, but maybe the contrast is all in the spirit of Saturnalia. Harm adjusts their cloak now that they're inside, loosening it and pushing it back over their shoulders so it isn't quite so unnecessarily warm. Beneath it they are carrying a black satchel embroidered with a golden sun, and a black mandolin case decorated with colorful doodles in paint marker, a number of neopagan (and not-so-neo pagan) symbols seamlessly incorporated. They study the decorations, then Alestair, and hesitates a moment before deciding it's probably not too off-base to greet him with a quiet but spirited, "Io Saturnalia!" "Io, Saturnalia!" Alestair returns, his face splitting into a warm smile. He raises a hand towards his seasonal wares. "Have a look around, I'm sure something I have here will catch your eye." His gaze goes down to take in the symbols on Harm's clothing and a flicker of uncertainty passes over his features, before quickly smoothing back out. "It's good to see that the old ways haven't been forgotten entirely." Harm bobs their head, something half-way between a bow and a nod. "I grew up in a community that honors and keeps the old ways." There's something in how they say this that isn't exactly pride but is maybe distantly related to it. "I used to think they were gone, from the rest of the world, but I'm learning how to look better." Their looking seems to draw them kind of automatically to the floral and herbal displays. "I will definitely want some herbs, at least. I haven't had a garden in a while, I've been traveling so much." Their eyes wander to the candleflames, which they study closely. "Have you been here for very long?" "Some months, time is weird soup though, so who really knows." Alestair grins, fingers tapping mindlessly on the counter. "If gardening is what you're after this is a good place to be. My collection is..." he pauses a hair longer than necessary, "extensive." The tapping stops and he lets out a pensive sigh, "Sometimes I miss my little enclave, but parting can be for the best." "Time is a weird soup. I might have missed this shop even if you were here before I went traveling. The last two years have been longer than the rest of my life combined." Harm glances over at Alestair when he pauses. "It's not about the gardening, exactly, though do I enjoy that. I'm a healer." This, they do sound proud of. "I can mend injuries without the herbs, but one of the old ways I keep teaches there's far more to healing than just repair." They smile again. "But you're definitely better supplied than any of the other apothecaries, botanicas, metaphysical supply stores, magick shoppes, and whatever else around here. Where's -- your enclave? Mine's in the Santa Cruz mountains, in Cali...fornia." "Colorado." Alestair says wistfully. "I imagine not using the herbs takes a toll though. I'd much rather craft a panacea and be done with it." He wanders fully behind the counter and bends over, looking for something on the shelves there. "I'm not familiar with another group in California, but it makes sense, you weren't terribly far away. It must've been nice not being under Scratch's thumb though, every moment away from that ratbag is a blessing." "It isn't easy," Harm admits -- easily. "But it has its advantages, especially in emergencies." They turn back to Alestair from the herb shelves. "Oh, the Rockies are beautiful! I mean, so are my mountains, and it is nice there, but we have terrible witch drama of our own." They shrug tightly. "Are you a sort of black sheep, too? At lot of us seem to wind up in New York, sooner or later." "I tried leaving to experience the rest of the world, and they took umbridge with that." Alestair confirms, popping back up from behind the counter again with a slender wooden box, the type that might hold a pen or some small pieces of jewelry, and clacks his fingers against it. "If you're ever looking to lessen your burden I also happen to be a master alchemist. I can't cure death yet, but perhaps one day." "I'm sorry," Harm says, heavily and knowingly. "Growing up isolated makes traveling the world that much more amazing, but it makes being estranged from your community hurt more, too. I hope you can still visit your family...if you have the kind of relationship with them where you want to visit. I kind of wanted to go home for the solstice..." They shrug again, and rooting around in their bag comes out with a colorful crocheted pouch. "Well. I'm bringing the festivals with me. I travel light, so it's not much, but." They shake out a handful of charms and trinkets, and from these picks three pale, polished six-sided dice carved with intricate geometric symbols. "I traded these from a Chinook scrimshander for a song. Literally! And gambling is traditional, so." They stack the dice in a little tower on the counter in front of Alestair. "Io Saturnalia!" "It sounds like you could use one of my special satchels then." Alestair says, a grin creeping across his face. "If I win I'll take one of your charms, and if you win." He doesn't finish the sentence, instead pulling a worn looking brown leather satchel with the alchemical symbol for gold emblazoned on the corner of the top flap. "What say you?" Harm grins, too. "Well...I'm a sucker for a good satchel." They unsling their mandolin case and their (regular) (non-alchemical) satchel and lean them against the counter, then cracks their knuckles. "So I say you got yourself a deal!"