जान है तो जहान है Who James and Shara When: 1/5/19 4ish Where:in Vino Veritas Warnings: None!
Today was the day. It was definitely the day. Shara had been in Summerview for just over two weeks and she still hadn’t met the purpose for her choosing this town, and wasn’t that silly? It was just that she had been nervous. This was her sister’s descendent but her family had not done the best by him, they should have been looking after him and his forebears instead of hiding away in the comfortable kitchens of The Summerlands.
Not to mention more than one person had told her that she was rather odd since coming to Summerview. Including Julius. As it turns out, five years among humans was not really enough to change nearly 3000 years of habits. But she was trying! Had spent much time staring at her employees and customers at the shop, or even at the diner and Vinny’s, taking up people watching as she learned how they spoke to each other and moved about one another’s space.
Apparently brewing your own alcohol was a bit unusual though, Julius had explained that to her even as he accepted her barrel of liquor that she had made. Entirely odd if you ask her, if you could make something that perfectly suited your own tastes why wouldn’t you? No one else would! But they had laws regulating that sort of thing here, and apparently laughing at that concept was frowned upon too.
Her new (hesitant) drinking buddy had taken her gift with a vague air of resigned hesitation, but she had been quickly distracted by her nephew coming out of the kitchen, “James! I mean. Mr. Bryne!” Feck. They weren’t friends, strangers didn’t use their first names, did they? Among the Fae titles and even respectful equivalents, a bit like the Japanese were common when one was meeting someone from another city or class, or someone exceptionally older, but not an equal, and definitely not family, “Good afternoon!” Ah, she meant to reign in her exuberance but so much for that.
Alright, what in the actual fuck?
That was essentially the question James asked himself - in addition to trying to remember the last time he had been called Mister Byrne. Not since secondary school, and it wasn’t in a good way (upset teachers, probably). He’d just been exiting, stage right, on his dinner break to head out and head home, only so he could let Prince relieve himself and run around a little. It was a good thing he was a fire witch though, because the kitchen he’d just come from felt like a bloody Amazon jungle - he could handle heat, certainly, but sometimes when it was extra busy and there were multiple bodies crammed in one space it could get bad. Bad, as in, sweat would run down your legs and into your socks, which was when squishing happened. Then you walked into the freezer for something and were suddenly plunged into Antarctica, which felt fantastic at the time - but to go from the flames of Hell to the dead of winter didn’t always do good things for the body.
Ah, well. He had an immune system of steel at this point. Taking off his apron, he stopped and went back to where he’d heard someone calling his name. “Aye, that’s me,” he greeted. “Need me for something, love?”
Did someone want to compliment the chef? Well, he’d take that. His food was great, even if he looked worse for the wear on the job. Mostly just hot and sweaty.
Part of her had thought it was a bad idea to ambush him at work, or rather, just after work. He was probably tired, not everyone intertwined work with passion and home like she did and she could hardly blame them. Human jobs weren’t the same as Fae ones, and not just for Hobs who literally had their calling running in their veins. Ah, but to see him with the smell and sweat of a kitchen clinging to him and in an apron? Just made her heart feel with a lovely sort of joy. See, though a few generations separated them, they were definitely going to connect.
Shara pulled herself up to her full, unremarkable height, shoulders back and with a far too proud and gleeful smile on her face as he walked up to her, reaching out to his shoulders — only stopping from resting her hands on them at the last moment, taking a good look at him like a grandmother who was assessing any growth since her wayward grandchild’s previous visit, “No, I just wanted to meet you! And I have gifts. Well. Uh, there should be an order to things, yes? No problems, walk with me outside? I’m harmless, I assure you.” Powerful, sure, at least for Summerview, but she meant no one here any ill will. That, and even if she did, all of her abilities were purely defensive, along with her personality.
Her words were tinged with an odd mix of pride and awkwardness a smile that she couldn’t keep off her face even as her hands twitched with uncertainty. Shara waved goodbye to Julius as she gestured towards the front door.
“Gifts and you don’t even know me? How grand,” there went the suspicious coal-black brow, poke-poking upward. But, well, why not? James didn’t get the vibe that this woman was going to try to kill him in rapidly dwindling broad daylight (in the winter it felt like it got dark at noon, for fuck’s sakes). She seemed like she did know him, yes, but there was also the nagging suspicion that he knew her. Somehow.
How odd. And yet it was ultimately what cemented his decision to go outside with her. “But alright, off we go,” he went for the door (and interestingly, she also knew Jules? Though his boss was certainly a popular fellow), holding it open for her. “You know my name, so do I get yours?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, but I do.” She gave him a knowing smile, which was probably more mysterious than she had intended and definitely more than she could ever manage on purpose. Really, she didn’t have a deceptive bone in her body. He was adorable, and thank goodness that he agreed to walk outside with her because she wasn’t particularly looking forward to having this discussion in Veritas, as nice as Julius’s establishment was, it wasn’t the best for a family reunion, really.
Shara nodded her thanks as she walked through the door, grateful that the sun was still out, it was a bit breezy even with the jacket around her shoulders. The region of Summerview that she had been born into didn’t really have winter, and she was still adjusting to it, with definite mixed feelings, thanks. “Of course, sorry, I suppose I’m still used to living in a place where I know everyone. I’m Sharab Sharma,” Handshakes were common in America, something that amused her, she much preferred the cheek kisses in some countries more, or even hugs but this time she extended her’s for a handshake, trying to go with something that would make him comfortable, “I just moved here. Since you’re here, because I’m your Aunt.” The last bit came out with bright excitement, it wasn’t quite the easing him into it that she had planned, but she was terrible at surprises.
James shook her hand, sort of flustered, and his hands were also in rough shape right now - at work, he washed them so many times with hot water that they tended to get all red and cracked, especially in winter. “A pleasure, Sharab,” he replied smoothly, because he could manage to be endearing despite how none of this made any sense.
Especially the revelation that he was her...nephew? And that she’d moved here for him?
“Er - “ That was all he could manage for the moment; the surprise reached blue velvet eyes, sparks in his brain where he tried in vain to connect the dots but really just seemed to cause a short circuit because what. “I don’t - I wasn’t aware my mum had siblings.” Or his da, for that matter. His mum died when he was just a baby and his father - before he too shuffled off this mortal coil - wasn’t really forthcoming about familial information, or much of anything.
His hand was clasped in her’s, holding on far longer than she should and patting his rough knuckles as she did so, everything about her as matronly as her own dear mother. So dry! There were a dozen ointments she had back home, oh! In her car she did too, she would have to grab a few for him. Poor things, having to use rough soap to wash their hands instead of magic. “Call me Shara, or Aunty. Please.” It would mean so much to her, really.
Oh, well, his confusion was understandable. Especially when he looked nothing like her — except the grin! They definitely had the same grin, she was going to have to travel home soon to take pictures home, her Nan and her had the same one and she would be delighted. The hand in her’s was flipped over so she could trace tiny old scars and calluses with a concerned expression before finally releasing him, “I suppose I sort of jumped in the middle, didn’t I? I’m a bit like that, I’m afraid. We tend to be pretty rowdy, got to get things out quick.” Even when they were sober, on those rare occasions that is, “My sister started your familial line. I’m Fae. Hob, to be exact, very unlike that nice young man you have as an employer,” One day one of the Summerview residents was going to get angry at her for calling them young, but so far she had coasted through, “My little sister, about oh, 2000 years ago got a ‘wild hair’ and decided to live among the mortals and…”
Her expression turned a bit embarrassed as she nudged him like it was an old inside joke, even as she stepped away from the entrance so they weren’t quite in the way of customers, “She wasn’t very careful, as they say. And here you are! You have a few types of Fae blood in your veins, I think.” Because apparently, certain traits were inherited, like promiscuity and a love of spreading that to different groups.
It was a lot to dump on him, really, and she felt a bit bad about not doing it better. For someone who spent a great deal of time around children she wasn’t always the best storyteller. Normally she was better, but this was important! So she was nervous! A bit! And Excited! Plus she was afraid if she didn’t convince him fast he would run away. A hand waved on the air, the smell of paprika and brownies rising up as she conjured a mug of tea. A bit of spice to wake you up and keep you alert but with something...Almost creamy about it, soft and comforting, flowers that grew near her home that literally calmed one with the mere touch of a fingertip to a petal. It was a blanket that made you feel safe and would always resonate as home to her, down to her bones, “Here, have some tea. It’s a family recipe.”
Did she literally just conjure a mug of tea out of thin air? James blinked owlishly, but he took the mug and let the steam waft up under his nose; the scent of it invigorated his sense, and when he took a sip he couldn’t quite place the taste - it was like nothing else on Earth though, and that was good enough for him.
“Alright, I just - can we sit down, perhaps?” He headed toward a bench on the sidewalk - sometimes, when Veritas was really busy, the line would snake out the door to this very spot, but he didn’t expect it to get that way until he was well into the proper dinner rush.
There. Now that he had his bum on a solid surface, he could consider all this. “I knew Jules was Fae, but I don’t know much about the race in general,” he said. “That...well, hm. I’ve been trying to look into my family history. I suppose Fae blood makes sense.” Magic was magic, wasn’t it? Intertwining, twisting together - and magic had an ancient history. This wasn’t Harry Potter, no one was pure anything.
He also had a sense of deja vu, because hadn’t he just mentioned he didn’t know much about the Fae? That was with Maeve, and he hadn’t talked much about his childhood and lack of family either. James assumed it’d be another couple of dates before they got to Shitty Childhoods and How Those Issues Followed Us Into Adulthood.™
“Of course!” Shara followed him, pleased that he had taken the tea, because everything was better with tea. That, and she would be up in a tizzy if he didn’t like her mother’s favorite tea. That would definitely be a problem! Not really, but she would certainly be confused. Another wave and she had her own mug, a pleased hum as she inhaled the steam, feeling it soak in, tension seeping out as she exhaled.
The compulsion to comfort him was hard to resist, so she didn’t really try, instead reaching out to rub soothing circles on his back. Giving him a moment to contemplate what she had told him even as she got comfortable, taking a sip of her tea. It was surprisingly comfortable really, and she enjoyed watching people come in from their cars as they laughed, women holding their jackets around flimsy blouses, hair everywhere or getting caught up in fancy earrings.
“Well, we aren’t the most open people, to be honest. As a whole at least, the Hobs aren’t very secretive.” Not that this would probably be very surprising, as she wasn’t exactly being very coy or anything. “I was so proud to hear about your cooking skill! It’s sort of our thing. Or one of them.” A fond pat to his shoulder as she beamed at him, because this was definitely going better than she expected, and she really meant it to. James was family, no matter how many generations were between them, Julius, and everyone else in town spoke very highly of his cooking skills. “I would love to help you in anyway I can.” This time her words were more subdued, trying to convey how very serious she was, “Family is family. No matter what separates us.”
James was vastly unfamiliar with being told someone was proud of him, for one thing. And he was vastly unfamiliar with maternal affection, or even comfort of any kind - no one had bothered to try, and he had often said to himself he couldn’t miss what he never had. But that was a lie, he still missed and yearned for it anyway, even if he only had secondhand knowledge of what it was like - a mother’s love was a wool blanket wrapped around you, so warm that nothing could penetrate it, not even the frigid cold of the world.
Still, he was skeptical now just because it was built into him. “What makes you think I need help?” he asked, as if that couldn’t possibly be true. He was fine, wasn’t he? He had the unconditional love of a dog and a cat who liked him sometimes, a roof over his head, a way to put food on the table that was actually legal. What more could he possibly need? Besides an end to the lonely restlessness he felt on a day to day basis.
Shara sipped at her tea with the hand not on his back, taking solace in that as her offer and explanation were considered. That's all she could ask for, really, his consideration. An optimist she may be, but a naive fool she was not, and the possibility of him wanting nothing to do with her had occurred. But she would stay close (or at least in town) anyway, unless he outright asked her to leave altogether. Hopefully not, however.
The question, and the slight air of defensiveness to it, had her smiling fondly at him all over again, and simply reaffirmed the decision focus on him in the first place. Always go with the gut, or so her uncle said, “We all need help. I myself am three thousand years old and told Julius I may need advice on interacting with mortals.” No amount of personal pride or dignity would make her feel awkward about that, because there was nothing wrong with it. The fact that it contrasted with how she was handling the shop and maybe this whole affair was of no consequence.
Three thousand years old, Christ. James wouldn’t live that long and he was actually glad for it - it seemed like a punishment, in a way, though Auntie appeared to be content with her lot. So he had to hand it to her, he supposed.
“I can always give you advice there too, if you need,” he chuckled, sipping his tea. He exhaled, shoulders slumping a bit, because he felt like the fight to resist any of this had left him - not that he planned to protest much. James didn’t really push people away - if anything, he was guilty of becoming attached quickly even if his demeanor would suggest the opposite. He just wanted to matter. To someone. “You own the sweets shoppe, yes? What else?”
About her, he meant. He was interested in hearing about a distant relative, especially since she came all this way.
The offer of help made her light up, clearly having been more worried about him not wanting her around than she realized. It would have been her fault, plunging in head first before she even knew if he wanted an Aunt, no one to blame but herself, but she still would have been melancholy to say the least.
“I would very much like that. No one should be on their own.” Quiet and sincere, but pleased approval lying just beneath the surface. Shara leaned to the side to bump him gently with her shoulders, “We can talk recipes too!” It was going to be grand, she could tell. James needed someone around, she could feel it even just through the spell she used to find him, a pull just as strong as shared blood. Everyone needed at least one person around who wanted nothing more from them than their presence, and who could be relied upon in a time of need — small or grand.
Another drink of her tea before she reached over to tap his mug, topping it off, the smell of brownies and paprika fainter now with such a small thing, “I do! Which you’re welcome to anytime. I’m afraid though that my life hasn’t been terribly interesting, all things considered. We have historically found a good home to root ourselves to and stayed there.” It was true, James’ life probably contained far more interesting stories, “A mortal girl was brought to the Summerlands though, who was treated terribly by her father and brothers and I thought — what if one of my family is suffering like that, with no one to give them tea and biscuits, to protect them?” And she sounded lost, because she felt guilty about it really. There she was, sitting next to a fire and knitting while her nieces and nephews were out in the world alone.
What a terribly somber thought on this happy night. It wouldn’t do. So she cleared her throat, “I very much like this town you’ve chosen already, I visited New York and found it rather dreadful. You have good taste.”
“I used to be in New York - well, it was Brooklyn,” James clarified. “It’s got its good points and bad points. Good and bad smells too,” he chuckled. Hot garbage and the subway, for one thing - not to mention how, in the springtime, the scent of ‘cum trees’ was a thing (that was actually what they were called, thanks to the white-petaled flowers and the aroma). However, bringing up the delight of cum trees with his aunt seemed vulgar so he’d just leave it at that. “I was with a coven of witches.”
He’d left on good terms though and, actually, at their suggestion to come to Summerview. And he was glad that he did, for the most part. “I do like tea and biscuits though...” Hopefully he wouldn’t gain a thousand kilos as a result of Shara’s influence, but he could tell her heart was in the right place.
“Would it be possible for me to learn fae magic?” he asked then; the way she conjured this tea, and the scented cloud of magic, of what he assumed was her personal brand, made him curious.
Of course she paid rapt attention to his story, turning slightly to listen better, eyes bright in twilight as she paused drinking her tea to give him her whole focus. To Shara, people were never boring, every individual with something interesting to them, family even more so. “But it ultimately wasn’t for you, I guess? You seem like the sort who knows how to land on his feet, if that’s alright to say.” The observation was nearly something she regretted, Shara still unsure of what was alright to say here and what he would find offensive or complimentary for that matter.
At that, she resisted the impulse to conjure some. He seemed a little overwhelmed already, so she resisted, especially because she had already baked him some. “This was clearly one of my better ideas. We’re going to get along just fine.”
The question made her tap her chin, taking a longer drink of tea as she looked at him speculatively, but like he was a particularly tricky recipe she just needed to learn what angle to come at. Not one that was going to be impossible, “There are some that are common among all Fae, Glamours, for instance, which I’ve taught many children — not that you’re a child, but you and Julius are so very young to me, especially him — but the ones that are Hob specific might be trickier. But we shall try.” This would be fascinating, even if he didn’t have the full range she did, he could probably do some part way, “I bet you’ve shown the inclinations and didn’t know it, we just need to change how you are perceiving it.” James wouldn’t be the first one she taught, or even the first with mixed blood, and she was already thinking of helpful books and techniques she had used before.
Was the coven for him? Well, in a way. James didn’t hate his time there, but the opportunity to move on had presented itself and so he did. “They actually suggested I come here,” he said. “They knew I was trying to learn more about my family. So while they could help me hone my magic, they couldn’t tell me what I ultimately wanted to know. They gave me a farewell present, however, it’s the cat I’ve got at home.”
So, aye, he was glad he’d listened to their advice and made the short journey to Summerview. Besides, Brooklyn wasn’t all that far away - he could always visit, should he get a wild hair up his bum to do so.
“Well, then I look forward to learning from you, Auntie,” he flashed a grin, trying out the moniker - he thought it might sound strange to his own ears, but it didn’t. “Though speaking of my cat, I’ve also got a dog and I usually go home to let him out when it’s my breaktime. I ought to go now, to ensure he doesn’t piss all over the floors.” Poor Prince - he was probably itching to run around and chase some squirrels. And relieve himself.
Fate. Blessed Titania, this was definitely fate, different factors in his life leading him to a place where she could best help him while being at ease. Shara would likely have gone to Brooklyn to help him, but she wouldn’t have really been comfortable there, and not as useful to him or anyone else. “Of course they did. Cats are rather drawn to magical folk, and we have a particular fondness for them.” There was a dog that lived in the neighborhood closest to the shop that liked to wander by at random points (she suspected when his owner went to work) who gave her a very wide berth however, along with her Vampiric customers.
But here he was, contrasting that! A cat and a dog! Her nephew definitely had layers, she liked him more by the moment.
“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry I kept you. Walk with me to the shop van here and I’ll get you your presents.” Shara couldn’t drive. Having to speak English all the time, learning to navigate around cars and the quite frankly, maddening amount of pollution was more than enough change for this century, thank you. So she had bribed one of her employees to drive her and the van down her, let him go inside to drink while she talked to James. At least she knew vaguely how to work it, however, making her way over to the too large metal beast and opening up the two large doors without keys — her magic draped over it, low grade wards that glowed with her magic that made mortal keys more than unecessary.
Inside she had a large plastic tub that she had barely managed to seal, “I hope you don’t have any food allergies. I made some jam, a few Shepherd’s Pies, some rolls, cherry and peach cobbler. I also included a few bags of loose leaf tea. Don’t worry, it won’t go bad as rapidly as you are used to.” Hopefully he didn’t do a lot of grocery shopping, or it was going to have trouble fitting in his fridge, “Oh! And my mom’s favorite biscuits are in there too. Somewhere.”
God’s holy trousers, that was a lot of food. “No allergies,” he confirmed - and how wonderful, now James would be set on good eats until the apocalypse. “This all looks lovely, thank you,” and while he was quite surprised (he never had a relative who made him so much food before), he wouldn’t ever forget his manners. Sometimes he had them. When it suited him.
Hefting the tub into his arms, he stepped back to head to where he parked his Mustang. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon?” he suggested, with a smile that erred on the side of grateful because, really, all this food. “And if you need any advice about humans or...large metal death traps,” otherwise known as automobiles, and he wasn’t sure if he’d advocate using magic to operate them, “Do let me know.”
James had called her Aunt, he wanted to learn from her and he took the food she made! Shara felt so happy and a felt a sense of relief that was so tangible it seemed to have a taste as real as her tea. Even if she was already in the process of adopting of adopting half the people she had come in contact with, blood was blood, family was the rock that kept her afloat when the waves became too much.
“I will. I hope you enjoy it, my number is on a card in there somewhere, if you need me.” And just because she couldn’t resist, Shara reached out to pull him into a brief but all encompassing hug, full of all the warmth and promises of safety she could muster. It was hard to convey joy, hope, and gratitude in an embrace but she certainly tried, not holding on him for too long before she let him go lest he feel trapped. When she let him go she left a bit of her protective magic on his shoulders — not much, just enough to know if he got hurt, and stepped back to let him breathe, closing the doors to the van with a content expression on her face.