Who: Kali & Raijin Where: A small coffee shop. When: Monday afternoon. Warnings: None?
Kali was tilting her head, a seemingly mystified expression dazzling her dark features. She was seated high up in the chair she was perched on, peering over the over sized screen of her laptop at the people in line waiting for coffee. The mortal watering hole, but less water, more caffeine. You would think, after a few minutes of this, her neck might start hurting. And, with time, she realized that it was. But it wasn't as if it hurt, more like... well, it was damn uncomfortable. She blamed the body she was in. Or maybe it was the humidity outside, the air thick with the whisper, with the potential promise of a storm. On her computer screen glowed the week's forecast. Humid with a side of hot and stormy.
The coordinated chaos of mortals and coffee and their need for it was mystifying, and how the pretty folk behind the counter skinny jeans and frayed tee shirts with expressions on them they thought witty pretended to give a shit about what the gag-me-cute chick was ordering - a caramel somethingorother, thinking that this coffee shop was actually that coffee shop, where the baristas actually sometimes did care. Maybe.
Kali watched as if she were watching a documentary on hyenas cackling about in the dark, for that is what the people behind the counter looked like to her. They smelled kind of rank, too. Didn't mortals make some special stick of smelly goodness for that sort of problem?
She was so engaged in watching this strange animal behavior that she didn't notice the door open, little bells chiming. She didn't notice that there was this vast and expansive bulletin board near the restrooms (which doubled as shrines to various indecent acts) for the human and not-so-human population of beautiful, chaotic Manhattan to advertise themselves, their business, or their talents. And she didn't notice that whoever had just scampered through the doorway was about as human as a storm, and just as thunderously loud in her head.