The lighthouse Who: O & Graham What: Discovering new things When: December 1 - evening Where: Books & Bins Rating: Low Status: Complefe
She stepped cautiously into the bookstore.
Her dark eyes swept the expanses of shelves, evading the gaze of the clerk whom was peering at her with curious interest. She wasn’t partial to that look, it was nearly the same one the white coats gave her until they’d gotten bored with her. Absently she picked at the sleeve of her shirt as she moved toward the shelves.
The obsidian wings she bore tended to have a mind of their own. One of them twitched, rustling mischievously as if it were hellbent on upturning something. She would do her best not to make a mess but being in a place that wasn’t suited for her was the challenge. But she didn’t want to disappoint Graham.
At first she had been a touch hesitant to enter the shop at all. O had lingered in the doorway debating whether she should fulfill her promise or simply let it go. Promises were big things - she gave her word to Jayati often and always followed through. Something inside of her wouldn’t allow her to not commit to the visit. She didn’t have to stay long. And so she had moved into the bookstore on a nervous breath.
When the clerk approached her, O nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts, in the worry and nerves, that his footsteps had been lost on her ears. Her wings came up and encircled her in a method of defense, concealing her entire frame from head to toe from view. She would’ve seemed nearly like a capsule of feathers.
“Miss? Uh...I’m sorry,” the clerk managed, a touch startled and impressed. “Were you looking for something in particular?”
“Graham.” Came the response from beyond the feathers, slightly muffled from the obstacle. Two feathers parted and O peered through the tiny slit at the clerk.
“I’ve got her, no worries,” Graham appeared then, literally, in the blink of an eye - not here one moment and then standing there the next. He didn’t bother to walk slow when he was working in a shop owned by a vampire who could travel the same speeds he could. But he essentially stepped in to take the clerk’s place - and ensured that the diligent employee went back to work, whereas Graham turned to face O in all of her wing-hidey glory.
He wore a dress shirt and a tie, pressed trousers, his jacket hung up in the back room where he’d come from. “Glad you came, love. Want a coffee or tea or anything, while we browse?” he asked, since he presumed she was here to find something to read.
Decaf, perhaps. That was what he’d recommend. She seemed rather nervous.
She was not used to such things as people seeming to appear out of thin air but then she had learned upon arriving that nothing here was always as it seemed to be. You thought someone seemed human-like and they surprised you with the realm of things they could do and so O tried not to be startled by the sudden appearance.
Her wings began to pull away and settle where they’d come from, pressing against her back. O had never had coffee or tea but she nodded anyway, silently accepting whatever Graham was offering. The aroma of coffee had been one of the thing she liked about the city but as far as actually drinking the beverage she’d never tried it.
Finding a book had been one of the reasons she had come, the other was to keep her promise to Graham that she would visit him there as requested.
Books and Bins had a variety of wares besides books - definitely tea and coffee though, and some other snacks you could grab along with whatever tome tickled your fancy. He led the way to the counter, ordering two coffees - just simple mocha spiced coffees, since it wasn’t quite black coffee (which tasted like road tar, in Graham’s opinion) but rather had a little cinnamon-nutmeg kick without being too sweet.
“You can add in cream or sugar if you’d like,” he said, handing O the cup. “Or both. I usually do. Coffee can be rather bitter on its own. Well!” A bit of cream turned his coffee a pleasant taupe shade, and one packet of sugar would help this go down. There we go. “What are you most interested in, in terms of books?”
She followed Graham to the small area that served snacks and beverages. Pausing at his side she waited for the end result, listening closely to what he’d ordered. Coffee, mocha spiced (whatever that was), and when it had come she took up her warm cup when it was offered.
O mimicked what Graham was doing, the cream and sugar went into her brew causing the colors to shift. She could see her reflection in it though it was somewhat distorted by the rippling. A careful sip and O nodded in acceptance, the beverage was exceptional.
“History,” She offered, lifting her head.
“Good choice,” Graham nodded, though he was quite sure that the non-fiction titles were like unicorns in this store (meaning, not many - but since they actually had a few unicorns on the island, he’d find something. That was the point). Carrying his delicious dark brew, he led the way toward the aisles and aisles of reading material - considering the clientele was supernatural, generally, some of the books were very old (and Mircea was old, there was that as well). Which meant the sweet, musky scent of worn pages permeated the air - funny how old books tended to smell like coffee and chocolate anyway.
He pulled out a title or two. “I assume you mean...non-human history?” he guessed, since while it was an interesting subject, given the way humans tended to destroy themselves and then repeat the process after not learning anything, he wasn’t certain if O was into that. “Like more along the lines of this?”
What was offered was something entitled Witches Bestiary, which was rather voluminous and historical in nature.
Her eyes scanned the shelves.
The coffee the clutched for the sake of something to do with her hands became absent, lost in the tides of pages bound and intriguing scents. The pads of her fingers graced carefully some of the spines of those tomes - the eagerness in her face was onset and deep as if she were a child.
When prompted, she tore her eyes from the shelves and turned to look at what Graham had chosen for her.
“All I know is human history,” she said, trying to keep the venom out of her tone. Cup set aside carefully she took the Bestiary into her grasp with intrigue.
Delicately she held the book in her left hand, fingers splayed across the two covers as she thumbed through the pages with precision.
A wing twitched. O sniffled. A few tears began to manage their way down her cheeks. She looked up at Graham with an expression of confusion coupled with happiness. She didn’t know what happiness was, not really because she never experienced it before up until that exact moment. And it was beautiful.
Oh, bollocks, had he made her cry? Graham flailed inwardly for a moment, but then realized those were happy tears. Weren’t they? But ah, yes, they seemed to be - and he was rather pleased with himself. Coffee and books were simple comforts, yet it was like O hadn’t experienced any of that before. Now was as ideal a time as any to start.
“There you go - good choice, then?” he smiled, sleek fangs on display for a moment there. He’d figured out how to sort of cover them up (or perhaps he was just the type of person to not smile very often thus it was convenient and he didn’t have to worry about alarming others). Around here, it was different - fangs weren’t so uncommon. “There’s also this one.”
He showed her a book called The Encyclopedia of the Undead, which was very relevant. “I haven’t read it so I can’t tell you how accurate it is, being a vampire myself, but if you want a bit of vampire history from some prat who is not me this may cover it.”
She nodded a reply and kept her head down. She felt a measure of shame for crying, the sleeve of her shirt swept across her eyes and she pretended it wasn’t happening. It had begun to alleviate anyway, the tears.
The next book he showed her was interesting. O maneuvered the things in her grasp in effort to take that book and browse through it.
Vampires, undead, many things to learn more about. Knowledge taunted a hunger inside of her that she didn’t quite understand but was happy to indulge when she could.
“I want to know everything.” Books or even from the lips of those that had experience. Either way it was good for her.
“Wonderful, I’m sure you’ll like it - or I hope you will anyway,” Graham tacked on, mostly just glad that he had managed to find a couple of selections that weren’t too awful. It wasn’t him usually doing the customer service - that’s what the other employees were for, and he just wasn’t overly personable - but at least he’d done something right. O appeared to not be regretting her decision to come in here, nor would she be filling out a comment card talking about how terrible the accountant was at helping customers.
He found himself reaching out and gently swiping his thumb across her cheek - she didn’t have to be ashamed of crying, nor use her shirt as kleenex - but realized that might startle her, and he didn’t mean to cross any lines. Personally, he often wore an invisible ‘do not fucking touch me, you unclean heathen’ sign so he liked to assume the same for others. Maybe it was the tears that had an effect on him.
“Right, well - “ He cleared his throat. “I’ll take you up front to have those put into a bag, then? Don’t worry, they’ll be on my tab.” Or rather, he did the numbers for the store so he’d take care of it. Mircea didn’t really scrutinize those much, there was no need. “Unless there’s anything else you’d like to look at?”
She wasn’t sure if she would like it or not, as of yet there was no way to be entirely sure, but she did her best to nod and look hopeful. Everything outside of those cells, those glass cages, the doors with bars was new to her and with that came a small sense of wonder and eagerness. O lived negative - this was not a terrible experience in the slightest.
As Graham reached out for her, O did her best not to flinch backward out of habit. The graze of his thumb across her cheek had brought about shaking, fear glossed over her eyes. People didn’t touch her without the want to inflict pain and she was struggling with becoming used to alternatives - nobody had ever tried to wipe away her tears before.
He had been kind so far. She felt a sense of shame and regret at pulling back but it had been done. Clutching her books, almost protectively, O nodded at Graham again. “Thank you.” She meant it, and those words weren’t given often.
This poor girl. Graham wondered what she’d been through, what had been done to her - but he assumed that her recoil had to do with her past, and not because of him. His skin wasn’t cold or anything - and balls, that had been annoying when the Twilight craze was afoot. People walking around thinking vampires had sparkly marble skin, like cozying up to stone.
But anyway. “You’re welcome,” he replied, heading up to the registers - he waved off the helpful employee, so it was obvious that step of this transaction was not necessary. Instead he just found a paper bag with handles, the store’s logo on the side, and carefully tucked O’s books within. “There you are. Well - ” he passed the parcel along to her. “Would you like to have dinner sometime?”
That didn’t mean what some might think it mean, for creatures such as him. “...I enjoy regular food too, not just...” Liquid refreshment that was red and sticky (though delicious).
It was fortunate for him that she had no idea what vampires ate, or really much about them at all. The invitation had color filling the apples of her cheeks but she nodded in acceptance, her eyes watching the way his hands placed the books into that paper bag. The way it crinkled with the weight was comforting.
“I’d like that.”
Her wrings rustled, dropping three, long, black feathers onto the floor where she stood. Fingers grasped the paper bag, it crinkled again beneath her touch, and she held it against herself again.
For the first time in her life she smiled. Biting at her lip, her eyes lifted and met his. “I don’t know what that means, but I believe you.”
“It might make more sense after you get into that book about the undead,” Graham chuckled, nodding toward the paper bag. She had a lovely smile, he did notice, but telling a woman she ought to ‘smile more’ was rather creepy and worthy of a throat-punch. He would never. “I actually live right above this shop, so - “
Come to think of it, he had never noticed O as any sort of social media presence. Many supernatural residents on the older side had gladly embraced technologies like the iPhone and the internet, but some not so much. He could take it or leave it either way. Paper and pen worked just fine. “Ah - drop me a note, whenever’s good for you? I don’t know if you’ve got a favorite restaurant around here or trust me to make something but of course you’re welcome at my place as well. I’m a decent cook.” After over a hundred years, he better be by now.
There was no judgement for her. She would never admit to being a human - humans, in her opinion were awful things - and she was eager to know more about others that weren’t humans. It made her feel good to be accepted, secure for the first time in a long time. Jayati assured her she was safe here, that humans couldn’t come here, but she wanted to know more about the ones that inhabited the island.
Her smile had faded as quickly as it had come.
And her knowledge of social media was nil. She didn’t even own a mobile phone of any kind.
She patrolled at night but not every night. “Two nights from now I won’t be on patrol.” She did not have a favorite place to eat. O took what was available, her funds were limited and she didn’t quite understand money. “I trust you.” Whatever Graham wanted she would do.
“Fair enough. Want to just come by, then?” he asked - that would perhaps be easier. Either he would make something or have it delivered, takeaway, whichever. Mostly because he had a feeling sitting in a restaurant for at least an hour might be a little much for O. Baby steps, isn’t that what they said? She seemed nervous enough just walking into the bookstore. “Upstairs, no secret knock necessary.”
That was a joke. Thanks to his dry-as-a-desert-winds humor for that one.
“Secret knock?”
Did they have such things? She was grateful that he didn’t. Would the staff ask her why she was there? Would they stop her. O took a nervous glance around and then nodded.
“Okay, I can come here.”
Whatever the night held she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that this was new, exciting. She didn’t trust often.
The shop was open all the time, literally, and that meant Graham (and his sensitive hearing) was privy to all the goings-on downstairs. It faded into the background, usually, even if on some nights he was debating sound-proofing his whole flat and just locking himself in his cave of solitude. But he’d he alert and ready for when O came by.
“Grand, I’ll see you then. Have a good rest of the day, love - enjoy those books.” Now to just figure out what to make for dinner. Lenore had been his only guest in awhile, but he hadn’t needed to be a host in the formal sense of the word. This would be interesting indeed.