Midday's Herbs'n'Things Who: Pscipolnitsa "Lady Midday" and Open Where: Midday's Herbs'n'Things, flower/herb/everything store mid-town. When: Early evening. Rating: PG?
A little garden of strange flowers and herbs, along with the typical plant life one is not likely to see in a city, greeted customers of Midday's, along with a little yellow brick road that was mostly there to entertain the shop owner. She had a peculiar love for "old" American film and music. What was very strange about the little shop (or little from the outside, at least), was its interior lighting. Upon entering through a door made for petite women (more likely for causing back aches in those who were taller and broader shouldered... the owner loved hearing those uttered words of discomfort), bright orange and yellow light, both vivid and dim all at once, filled every nook and cranny, lighting a customer's face in an otherworldly, stunning glow. The source? A bird. Yes. A bird. The thing was cooped up in a bird cage made for a canary, and it glowed. To the mortal eye, it might as well have been a canary, or a parrot, or any mortal bird with bright coloring. But to those with eyes from a higher plane, eyes that could see through Midday's Herbs'n'Things's facade, would see the bird was indeed, glowing, with long tail feathers that were akin to a peacock's but yellow, gold, and vermillion.
And thus we had the special, tricky thing about Ms. Midday's little shop. It was her way of deciphering who was stepping through that door. Mortal eyes would see your typical "new age pharmacy", and others would see an endless hall that belied the small exterior appearance with shelf upon shelf of hard to find creatures, eggs, herbs, and flowers, including, of course, her precious pet Zhara, the Slavic Firebird who, once upon a time, would be a bringer of luck and doom to its owner, usually on some quest of grandeur. The creature was friendly, spoke little, and at noon every day, Miss `Nitsa Midday would let the glowing bird loose. Zhara was 'Nitsa's best friend. She also had a few Slavic lizards and spirits hiding in the aforementioned nooks and crannies.
Pscipolnitsa. She was perched, albeit precariously, on her oak-wrought counter, leafing through a lingerie catalogue. "Zhara," she whispered. "Humans have the strangest things... look at this." She pointed to the picture of a woman wearing some obnoxious get-up, jutting her hip this way and that trying to look sexy and only really looking like one big mortal fool. "I mean, really. That's just ridiculous."
The only time 'Nitsa left work was mid-day, when she would traverse the parks and other recreational areas to be her general faux-friendly self. It was now evening, and she had little need to go outside in the evening, unless it was humid, hot and uncomfortable - unless, of course, summoned by a mortal's disgusted "Jesus, I could die it's so hot!" and instead of Jesus showing up, 'Nitsa would! She was delightful that way. She was very amused how the Christian sandal man had become a curse word. She met him once, when she was visiting her dear old Baba Yaga, and the sandal-man was selling sandals... at least the man said he was Jesus. She doubted it. He'd regard her all holier-than-thou-Russian-Communist or something. But he was just a guy selling sandals...
"Well, Poludnitsa, humans are very self conscious creatures," the ethereal bird replied, in a whispered, androgynous voice. The bird was patient with the demon-spirit goddess-creature who owned her -- poor Pscipolnitsa (why mortals had so many different names for the lady, Zhara would never know) had a few screws loose. She was, after all, obscure, somewhat forgotten, and only whispers of man's fear of her remained. (Such as, "Sweetie, wear sun screen, drink water, or the heat will kill you!")
Weathered fingers tangled in auburn curls - she'd had the same hairstyle since 1920 - as she fought the urge to pick up the phone (she was wary of that creature, too) and order one of these little pieces of fabric that covered nothin'. But lo! She was interrupted by the chiming bells at the door. Blue eyes looked up from the magazine, and she slunk from the counter top to the floor. Someone was here. What would they see? What would they be seeking? Alkonost eggs to crack and create storms with, magical fern-flowers of fertility, or aspirin for a splitting, fatal headache due to that sweltering star in the sky? 'Nitsa quietly blessed the guardian goddess of the stars and spoke sweet-like-daiquiri... "Hello! How can I help you?" She smiled a dazzling, riddling smile, narrowing her eyes to wait and see what her visitor was seeing.