WHAT: Catching up and talking magic over evening tea WHERE: Madam Puddifoot's, Vallo City WHEN: Tonight WARNINGS: Some talk of disappearances but that's it STATUS: Complete
It should have been easy for Edwin to have fallen back to his old habits. It should have been easy for him to fall back into the pattern of his life, before he’d met Robin, before he’d met Nikolai. For him to wake up in the morning, and go to work, perhaps stop at a bookshop or two on his way home, and then spend the rest of the night at home, alone, reading by the light of his fire. Doing his own private research. Eating his own private meals.
It wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be, no matter how he wished it would be. And he wasn’t even entirely sure he wished it would be. His job here was more rewarding, for one: he enjoyed the hours he spent at the library, surrounded by books, far more than he’d enjoyed his job in the civil service. He enjoyed spending time at work after he was finished, sometimes talking with Gansey or Darlington, sometimes just letting himself enjoy the peaceful quiet that could only be achieved when surrounded by thousands of tomes of magic and science and fiction. Robin stopped by enough evenings with food that he rarely ate alone, and while he and Briar lived in opposite ends of the house, he was often aware of his and Chime’s presence. Even his research was rarely done alone; Adam was often at his elbow, checking sources with him.
Perhaps the strangest part of it was that he enjoyed it. He’d spent most of his life alone. It had been easier. Easier than worrying about when Walt would bully or scare away his friends; not that there were many magicians who would even bother seeking his company: Walt was well-known and powerful in the community. Easier than the pitying looks that other magicians would give him at his paltry magic. Easier, easier, easier.
Now it was harder. Not just because the friends he’d made seemed loathe to let him retreat back into himself when Nikolai had been sent home, but because those few times when he did manage to have several days to himself, he found himself aching for the company of others. It was… strange, but not necessarily unpleasant.
Tonight was one of the nights that Edwin expected to spend alone. He’d left the hallowed halls of the Great Library, had stopped by in one of Vallo’s many bookshops – not Chastity’s Nook, he hadn’t gone back there since Nikolai had gone – and had picked up a couple books on the the physics of Vallo’s magic.
He’d already opened one and was pursuing the introduction when a flash of movement caught his eye, and he glanced up to see the familiar mien of a cat who was making himself comfortable in the window of an incongruously pink tea shop. He was instantly recognizable by his oversized ears.
Edwin hesitated. The last time he’d been in a tea shop, Wanda – or, at least, something that looked like Wanda – had farted at him, and that had been a sufficiently humiliating enough experience that he’d decided he’d never risk it again. But…
Well, maybe a cup of tea wouldn’t hurt, and if it wasn’t Marlene inside the tea shop, or if she was busy, then he could drink his tea while he started making progress in The Fundamentals of Thaumatic Physics. He pushed open the door and stepped inside.
Marlene didn’t spend the majority of her days at Puddifoot’s. She checked in at least daily – sometimes in the mornings, the afternoons, the evenings, whenever she had the time – but she wasn’t actively managing the place. It was spelled and charmed to a fairly autonomous degree, functionally. The little golden cherubs worked well as servers, so there was really no need for much in the way of human waitstaff. The job she’d taken on was really just keeping track of the books, since she’d always had a strange head for maths, and making sure nothing broke down.
Today, her free time had been in the evening, after her Defense shift. She’d parted ways with Emmeline about an hour before and after popping home to change, she’d popped right back out to the shop with her nosy cat attached to her leg. He was wandering about now; nothing had broken so she assumed he wasn’t causing much ruckus. She’d run the register report for the day and was leaning on the front counter with the ledger open beside while she counted the day’s take when the bell over the door rang as someone entered.
She lit up when she realised just who it was.
“Edwin!” she greeted him cheerfully. “It’s lovely to see you. What brings you to–”
As if summoned, the reason hopped down from the window – where he’d shoved himself past rows and rows of what looked like precariously stacked teacups displayed – and meowed loudly at Edwin’s feet, head rubbing insistently against his calves.
“Ah,” Marlene chuckled. “So, it wasn’t entirely the delight of my company, I see.”
“You factored a little into the decision,” Edwin assured her, kneeling to scritch Deci behind his large ears and letting a small smile cross his lips as the cat’s head butted affectionately into his hand.
“And perhaps a nice cuppa with a scone and some jam?” he added, straightening. He added, awkwardly, “I have a book I can entertain myself with,” he lifted the book, as if to prove it, “if you’re too busy for company.”
The tea shop was near empty, but he didn’t want to presume on her time.
“Oh yes, I’m utterly swamped,” was Marlene’s quite dramatic response, all the while grinning. There had been a patron or two when she’d come in, but evenings didn’t tend to be a popping time of day for business. There was one other woman sitting off in the corner with a book of her own, but she showed absolutely zero interest in their conversation; she might not even have realised they were there. “‘Course I’m not too busy, take a seat. I can scrounge up some scones, I think.”
Puddifoot’s was known for sweets – cakes and, occasionally, other sugar-ridden pastries. She had added some milder items into the rotation with a bit of charm work, and scones were, in fact, among those items. The cherubs had retired for the evening, with closing time nearing, so she went back to pluck a couple from the kitchen herself, jam tucked alongside each, and returned to the frilly table with two plates. A few flicks of her wand summoned over an already whistling pot of tea to join them.
“So, what brings you to the neighbourhood?” she questioned, pouring out a cup of Earl Grey for each of them. “Flattered to have you, but I’m sure it isn’t just for myself and sails-for-ears here.”
Edwin’s shoulders relaxed in something like relief, his lips softening not into a smile, but into something that wasn’t his usual stern look. He took a seat by the window, if only because he knew Deci would probably enjoy the sunlight.
“The bookstore next door got in a book I had ordered this afternoon, so I went to check it out.” He hesitated, and then added, “They’ve been good for getting in magical texts for me. I might make them my regular bookstore.”
He needed one, now that he no longer patronized Chastity’s.
“Ah,” Marlene acknowledged with a nod. “I’ve poked around in there a bit myself. They’ve got a good selection. I’ve always been a fan of floor-to-ceiling stacks.” She’d been a voracious reader growing up, and though it had petered out a bit with age, her father’s love of bookstores and libraries still lingered with her.
“How’ve you been doing otherwise, hm?” She didn’t ask the more explicit questions because she felt it wasn’t her place; she was a new friend, and she hadn’t really known him while he was with Nikolai. But she knew him now, and she knew how painful the loss must be.
“You’re welcome to visit Penhallick Library whenever you have a care to,” Edwin said after a brief moment’s consideration. “We had the largest private collection of magical texts in England, back when it was… well, in England. I don’t think I can make that boast any longer, but it’s still impressive. And we’ve some fiction and other non-fiction as well.” A lot of dirty books. More smutty books than someone might have thought, looking at Edwin; that collection had only grown while Edwin had lived with the king who worked at the adult bookshop.
He pulled apart his scone at her question, frowning. “I’ve been well,” he said at last, unconvincingly. “As well as can be expected, anyway.” He bit his lip to stop himself from continuing. I should have known better. This is what comes from letting yourself want something. No one wanted to listen to a pity party, especially not when everyone had lost someone to Vallo’s whims.
Marlene wasn’t going to push him any further than he was comfortable. She understood his pain; she and Emme had lost Lily and James not long ago themselves, knowing what fate was destined to befall them back home. It wasn’t an easy loss, but neither was this, though it may be cleaner. Nikolai was alive back home, but he had left a brokenhearted Edwin behind, and he’d never even realize it.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” she said quietly, her smile small but encouraging. “And I may very well take you up on visiting that library of yours at some point. Might drag along Emmeline, too. Our magical texts were quite specific to our world. I’m interested to see how yours differ. And I’ll certainly never say no to a good novel.”
“If you have any texts from your own world, I would love to take a look at them as well,” Edwin said, grateful for the change of topic. “I’ve been absolutely fascinated in how magic has changed from world to world since I’ve arrived here. You come from the same world that Miss Black had been from, right? She’d been showing me a little bit; I’d been especially interested in your flying broomsticks. We can cause an object to levitate for a short while, but true flight has never been managed, and no one’s managed to imbue an object with even so much as a levitation charm.”
“I’d give you the texts if I could,” Marlene chuckled, “but we don’t have any here. Our school, Hogwarts, was here at one point, when Rasalas was here, but it’s gone since.” Another whim of Vallo, although infinitely less painful. “The charm work on brooms is quite intricate. It’s far out of my wheelhouse. Emme may be a bit closer, but it was really James who did most of the legwork while he was here.”
Edwin nodded. “She gave me a tour of the school once; I’m sorry to hear that it’s no longer here.” He was, too; Hogwarts had been a marvel of magic. There’d been no way a building like that would have been sustainable in his own world, and the concept of a magic school in general fascinated him. In his own world, magicians had been expected to go to regular schools and to have their magical education taught to them through private tutors. Those of the working class tended to pass what spells they’d learned in their profession to their offspring.
“If you have any to spare, I might be able to suss something out,” Edwin said. He’d grown relatively competent at breaking down the magics of other worlds; he’d always been good at magical puzzles and had been more than a little successful at understanding and creating his own spells.
“I’ll certainly look into it,” Marlene agreed. What could it hurt, really? Magic of all sorts mixed here and hadn’t seemed to cause any earth-shattering issues. Although, perhaps that was what had brought them here to begin with, but that was hard to determine.
Deci, apparently feeling neglected, made a loud yowling sound at Edwin’s feet and made to hop up into his lap. “You can take that, too, while you’re at it. He’s a bloody menace.”
Edwin leaned back in his seat to give the cat room to jump up, and absent-mindedly scratched him under the chin once he had settled. He took a moment to determine whether or not Marlene was actually joking or not, and then decided that she was.
“Oh, he’s not so bad,” Edwin said, giving him some fond scratches behind his oversized ears and smiling as Deci butted the palm of his hand. “Though I’m sure he’d get along very well at Sutton Cottage.”
“I’ll bring him on a visit soon to test that theory,” Marlene replied, watching the cat purr and curl up with Edwin. “But I suspect it won’t take much to prove true.”