tɦɛ iɳquiรitѳʀ (freemarched) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-12-19 22:17:00 |
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Winter was strange in Orange County, Max decided. Especially at the beach, by the sea, when you had a certain picture of what a cheery fun-in-the-sun excursion would look like. Now he had to break out into an actual warm coat, the skies grey as newspaper and sea having given up its blue. The wind whipped salt into your eyes, and it was so cold sometimes it even seemed to seep into gloves. But he still had things to do - taking care of his garden, for one thing. Many Thedosian herbs could grow inside all year round, but others died down for a winter rest, lying dormant - in preparation, he planned to get rid of a lot of stock and had put together certain herb kits to bring to witchcraft, magic, occult shops all around the OC. The ones he usually sold with. They were nice too, twenty-four herbs in plastic bags, salts and brimstone and glass bottles all tucked into a fancy cigar box - the herbs had their properties printed on the bags, and it was all ideal for any witch (or ‘witch,’ whatever, he didn’t care if they were the real deal or not) who just wanted an herb stash. Whenever he came ‘round to these shops, he generally got distracted after he chatted with the store owner and dropped off the wares. Like right now. Some customers liked to watch the magic happen, meaning, tea that bloomed while it sat in hot water. The whole shop, which looked very homey, smelled like incense and herbs - tea in strainers, cups, bags, all for sale along with homegrown remedies for just about any pain, ache, or ailment you could think of. Max was one of those customers, enthralled by tea. Though perhaps the company he kept, not so much. But best that someone else was actually here, to prevent him from becoming too distracted. Besides, they could easily find a bar after this - maybe a fancier pub? Something with hearty stew? Maker, it was freezing, why was it so cold in the OC again? “Do you need to pick up anything?” he asked, managing to tear his eyes away from the tea. “Books, herbs, stuff for potions?” Constantine was hardly enthralled by tea, but his special person of interest was mildly obsessed with it. Bundled warmly within his trench coat and a sweater beneath--the scouser was used to dreary, damp, cold weather. Liverpool knew no other sort. His dark gaze was wandering about the wares in the shop while Max went about his business but he rolled his shoulder and squinted, considering his question. “S’pose it never hurts to pick up a few things, just in case yeah?” He looked back around towards Max, lips pulling into a frown as he considered what he could need. “Maybe some dried myrtle, frankincense, and...some tea. Of a sort.” Zatanna had so many already he didn't know if she'd already have something. Probably every flavor known to man. Couldn't hurt to try. “Have you got anything you'd recommend?” “Funerary incense?” Max guessed, with the mention of myrtle and frankincense. Especially frankincense, with its pine and lemony, sweet and woody aroma. Most often used for purification and spiritual transformation, rites of remembrance, and in rituals wherein one was attempting to communicate with the dead. “They’ve plenty of that here, at least. But as for tea recommendations, let’s see...” He unwound the scarf from his neck and let it hang loose, giving himself some breathing room since it was apparently they’d browse the homey shop for a bit longer. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely used to snow. Rain and slush, certainly - he did hail from Seattle, after all. But it wasn’t known for snowflakes and patches of ice. Mostly he was glad he hadn’t fallen on his ass yet. “You want something unique, I’m guessing? Maybe something with chocolate...” Oh, now he was getting ideas. “More or less.” It had more uses than the holy swinging it around and chanting with prayers. It was a very good source in helping him find demonic presence amongst other things. “The Myrtle is for summoning.” Constantine let his gloved hands rest into the pockets of his trench coat, watching Max in the new apparent remarkable challenge of finding a tea, brow quirked in amusement. “Very unique. Zatanna has a unique palette. Sweet and savory, spicy, especially sweet things...just nothing un-vegan. Like a bacon flavor.” He chuckled at the thought but undoubtedly it existed somewhere. Maybe he could get it for her as a joke. He moved closer to help in the search, skimming titles and the like, sometimes making a face at what was supposed to be delicious. “Are you a tea connoisseur as well?” There was more tea in his house than coffee now but to argue against such a small case was fruitless and really, John didn't care. “Bacon tea?” Max laughed. “Sounds delicious. Good thing I don’t think any of that’s here, it’d be tempting for Nasir. Let’s see though - this one has hints of chocolate and cream, caramel and and cinnamon,” he pulled the jar from the shelf, unscrewing the top to have a sniff. Nice. “The tiger eye goes well with the cream, and the gunpowder mellows it out at the end.” Then he caught himself, because it sounded like he was suggesting that John’s lady friend drink an explosive mixed with sulfur and charcoal. “Not actual gunpowder,” he clarified. “It’s a type of green tea. But no, I wouldn’t consider myself a connoisseur, really. I’ve just picked up some knowledge thanks to growing the herbs? What else - “ Another jar was selected, to be sniffed. “This one is accented with lemon verbena and cinnamon but the main note is assam melody. I think it smells like roasted plantains, personally. That’s unique.” Maker, he could be here all day. And would indeed discover that chocolate covered bacon tea was actually a thing. “You’re still a coffee person, or has she gotten you on tea in the mornings yet?” John reached out to take the cinnamon and caramel to turn the jar over in his hands. She'd probably like that, a bit of sweet, and spice. Just like her lovely personality. He did pause to give Max an inquisitive glance at the mention of gunpowder. “I should hope so, Mate. Despite my stoic default and lackluster feelings on sharing my personal life, I do enjoy her being alive.” And just in case he'd stay away from that, even if it was an odd name, same as they did for drinks. He took a sniff of the lemon verbena, tossing his head thoughtfully before grabbing that jar too. Alright. That was enough thought and consideration. If she didn't like it then well, he tried. The mage continued along into the more herbal section of raw plants and the like, snorting some. “I'm strictly coffee,” sometimes with a bit of something extra if it was a rough night,” but with the way she's filling my cabinets I'd say she's unsubtly trying to push me in that direction.” “Any chance of cohabitating in your future?” Max wanted to know, studying the various available fresh herbs - you could tell when you got to that aisle because of the smell. The tinctures, the aromas wafted into your nose and tickled the insides. Alright, and he wasn’t trying to be nosy. But maybe a little. Come on, John was buying tea for his girlfriend - it was actually kind of sweet, even if he didn’t really give off sweet vibes. At all. He was rough around the edges, to say the least. “Because I highly recommend it. It’s pretty nice, having someone there every night.” Then again, Trevelyan was probably more of a cuddler than Constantine was. Although he rolled his eyes and grumbled, John knew that Max was just the sweet sort and liked talking about things. In a way he reminded him a lot of Chas, who John both missed and was thankful he wasn’t in this mess of a dream city. How a man with such a shitty external shell attracted people of the warm and fuzzy exterior, who also happened to treat them like shit, he’d never know. Oh, yes he did--it was a curse. “She’s got a niece living with her, actually. Taking care of her and all that. Also happens to be in one of my classes so there’s that lovely bit of awkward situation. So no, I don’t think so.” Picking up a small clear bag of dried myrtle to further inspect it’s legitimacy, Constantine lifted it to his nose before giving it a light sniff and adding it to the growing bundle in his arms. “She didn’t seem at all comfortable me being there on her bloody birthday and I certainly wasn’t either.” Not to mention John was not the very homey type and was trying very hard to take things one day at a time. Cuddling and constant affections included. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for them. It just wasn’t something he’d been privy to for some time. “I prefer to be alone, Max, but I’m glad to hear you and your boy are enjoying each other’s...company.” Now where was the frankincense? He would honestly be surprised if Constantine hadn’t grumbled and snarked, like he was body snatched or something. So Trevelyan was glad that some things just remained the same. “The niece won’t be there forever, will she?” he asked rhetorically, lifting an eyebrow. Which pointedly poked upward. But alright, he wouldn’t pry - too much. “As long as you’re happy and enjoying the company of the woman you just bought tea for. Which I was thinking was definitely sweet, so see - you’re not totally a hopeless cause.” Oh, he was teasing, a playfulness in those birch-colored eyes. And then, helpfully, he plucked the frankincense from the shelf - a good supply of it, in a drawstring bag. “I’ll carry this. Wouldn’t want you to have any accidents.” Maker forbid! “Bloody hell, Max. It’s tea!” Were it possible John’s eyes could have rolled right out of his skull. Was it too much? He was just. He’d just thought of her was all, that was a thing to do wasn’t it? “And I’m not exactly pining for the girl to leave. I’ve got no business interfering with their family and comforts and--you ask too many questions.” Weasley fuck thought he could chat him up like a sodding patient. “Right, such a darling you are. Do you need anything or can we check out and get somewhere warmer?” Preferably a bar where they could drink and not talk about personal things. Like Thanksgiving or Christmas and intimate relationships. Sort of defeated the point of getting pissed away. He was such a sour patch kid, wasn’t he? It was all part of the charm, Max supposed. “Relax, you’re cute when you get all riled up,” he smirked. “I won’t ask any more questions.” Well, at least not until they got to the bar and John had a few drinks in him - loose lips sank ships, and all that, even if it was really difficult to get the man drunk. Dwarven ale had managed (and they managed to climb to the second story in the Herald’s Rest that faithful night, without breaking bones) but that was because dwarven ale was special. “I don’t need anything else, I think we’re good. I’ll take care of the frankincense, for being such a good fr - “ Then, he stopped talking when cheery, festive mistletoe - complete with a dusting of powdered snow, how very ‘tis the season - floated above their heads all of a sudden. How weird. He suddenly felt the need to - Smack, he planted one hell of an epic smooch on Constantine. And completely dropped the frankincense too, but that was alright. There was more. Constantine would have to make a mental note to not let Max and Zee form an alliance to poke at him for being bloody cute and other nonsense. He was well ready to get out of the shop and onto a more comfortable environment. If Max could get him drunk enough to say anything then at that point he wouldn't care. Then there was the appearance of a festive decoration that randomly floated about. Alright so nothing exactly out of the ordinary save for the part where Max was now snogging at his face like a leech with purpose. What was stranger that while he had utterly no time to think on how random and odd or strange it was, but that he too felt the need to return that smooch. And the zesty mage wasn't half bad at it either. Until the nasty bugger of a christmas bullocks went away and he snapped to his senses, planting his palm firmly on Max’s chest to gain back the personal space he preferred, brows knit and face scouring in confusion. “What the bloody hell was that?” Considering he had indomitable will, what could have possibly made do that? There wasn’t much of a need to covet that personal space, Max pretty much jumped back once the mistletoe floated off. He didn’t mean any offense, but that was just bizarre - even for OC standards. However, it did elicit a few wolf whistles and claps from other patrons in the shop, to which the Necromancer then turned bright crimson and resembled the color of a tomato. No big deal. “I...don’t know,” he responded and, probably because of shock and for lack of a better reaction, he just started laughing. And busying himself with getting more frankincense - they still had to check out and now he really needed a drink. “I’m guessing it had to do with the snow, general holiday cheer in the air lately, and also the appearance of various Christmas cartoons in the area?” No, he hadn’t missed that. Trevelyan wasn't so jaded that he failed to notice, say, a reindeer with a blinking red stop light of a nose. At least not yet. John wasn't blushing but it wasn't possible for the perturbed look on his face to scour any heavier. He wasn't sure what was more annoying, the people in the store, the shock of not resisting magic or whatever that was, an awkward conversation he might have to have later, or again the people. Snow seemed normal to John, he hadn't spent much time in California and the holiday...whatever, but characters? Now he'd believe it. This place was full of nonsense of every sort. “Right….let's just get out of here before it decides to come back and make us sing a bloody Christmas carol and dance like faeries.” Ugh. This is what he got for just wanting to buy some sodding tea and making a stop. He may have been oblivious to the characters with all of his work and not spending much time outside class, studying or seeing Zee. But this was a good reason to continue not to wander. “Good plan,” Max nodded, and the whole checkout process went quick - or at least, he assured that it did, with a swipe of his card and pointedly ignoring the amused expression on the face of the clerk behind the counter. “Let’s also hope one doesn’t show up in the bar.” Because evil mistletoe could be anywhere, right? What a harrowing thought. Still, that begged the question... “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” the mage asked, grabbing the frankincense and gladly making his way toward the door. “...John?” Not like he expected to get a straight answer or anything else besides a glare or a grumble, but you know. Definitely worth an ask. |