Who: Nesta and Gilmore, darlings What: Gossip, snark, shopping, and a job offer Where: The newly formed Gilmore's Glorious Goods. It's ~glorious~, everyone. When: Now? Now is good Ratings/Warnings: Little bit of language, lot a bit of fabulousness
Nesta had given herself a little while to nurse her wounds and repatch her pride. She hadn’t started looking for another job yet, because the whole idea of it just made her cringe. But she also wasn’t one to just stay cooped up in the apartment, pouting. She knew she’d start worrying her sister even more if she didn’t at least shower and take a walk, and Elain was, as always, the only one Nesta would reach around the ends of the earth for.
She hadn’t expected to find herself walking into a very purple shop, elegant and showy, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing it before, and the magic humming around the place was practically a beckoning. It felt welcome.
That warm comfort settled over her as she stepped in, glancing around in a way that was attempting to try and prove she wasn’t out of her element. Back straight, shoulders squared, and chin up, Nesta did her best to try and look as if she belonged in such a magical refuge, but likely failed as her fingers just gently caressed a glowing crystal on the table near her.
She could feel the enchantment without placing it or the magic it came from, and her eyes narrowed just slightly as she focused on it, but ultimately wasn’t skilled enough to pick up any more than that. It felt warm under her fingers, in a comforting way. “Amazing.”
The last time Gilmore had been in the shop, he had been dying from a head to head battle with an ancient red dragon. The store he’d worked hard to build, coming from his tiny desert town with nothing except a fake name, charisma, and magic thrumming through his veins had been left in ruins. While living in Whitestone he had little time to consider doing anything else but keeping up the barrier that guarded the city and besides, there was a conclave of chromatic dragons attempting to take over at least the continent, what was a store in the grand scheme of things? He’d rebuild, eventually, after Vox Machina saved the day.
But here was his store, the very second it appeared Gilmore knew it like a second sense, probably because he had his hand (mage or otherwise) in all of it from the glorious goods themselves to the fabric draped along the outside to the incense and perfumes permeating the air. It was his store, fully restored, so. Time to get to work.
“You have good taste,” Gilmore said, from off to the side where he’d been arranging potions into an ombre rainbow on the shelf. His smile was broad, his tone, jovial, like Nesta was exactly who he was hoping would walk through the fabrics at that very moment. He knew as soon as she came in, thanks to the spell that caused a mental ping that went off as soon as anyone came near, but there was something else about Nesta. A glow in her aura, like the sort that Gilmore felt when identifying a magical item or searching for a rune or glyph. With all of the different types of magic in Vallo, including the magic in the land itself, picking out what it was specific to Nesta would take more than a rudimentary look, but Gilmore had always been good at seeing what others might have missed.
He crossed the distance in a whirl of silks and a tinkling of bangles. “It’s a crystal of truesight. Gives the user the ability to see things as they are, but I tweaked it a bit to extend the distance because why not? So!” Gilmore clapped his hands, once again the bracelets on his wrists clinking together with the movement. “What can I find for you this very moment? Or, please, tell me you’ve walked in with no idea what you need and I can deck you out until you’ve found it?”
Nesta should’ve expected a flurry of silks finer than anything she’s ever seen before, and yet, her eyes still drifted over him as they once had with traders over the sea back home. The very same ones that she was sure were going to swindle her, but Nesta was very fond of fine silks and dresses and crystals, so it had always been a struggle to not just give in.
“As they are?” She looked apprehensive at that explanation, as vague as it was. But there was clearly magic about the item, she didn’t discount that. “Things hidden by magic, you mean?” As long as it wasn’t about to shove her towards some unavoidable truths she’d rather keep a distance from, Nesta wouldn’t wrinkle her nose. She did give the whole shop a once over before answering, though, and ultimately settled on a little shrug of her shoulder. “I’d never stepped in here before, so I thought I would shop. I’ve found myself with more free time, rather abruptly.”
“By magic indeed,” Gilmore confirmed. “Hidden doors, runes, illusions, things of that sort. It’s handy, but situational, and not exactly inconspicuous as you’re required to look through the crystal--which, I say, at that point in time you may as well just own it, but,” he shrugged, sighed, and gave Nesta a look of ‘well, you understand, of course,’ confident in his assumption that she did. Gilmore was the sort to create inside jokes in minutes with complete strangers, to glean and remember details about all of his customers. He was a shark of a businessman when the occasion called for it, but he enjoyed being with the customers as much as he did creating magical items.
And whatever Nesta found in her assessment of the shop, he didn’t seem concerned. The size of the shop from the outside didn’t match with the interior--there was an entire second floor that realistically should not and could not have existed given the outside, but magic was in every bit of the place, down to the architecture itself. Candles flickered in sconces hung on the walls, adding to the intimate ambiance, but there was always somehow enough light to see, especially getting closer to the goods behind glass cases or on shelves. And there was something to look at in almost every free space, gems, bottles containing potions in every hue, even decorative pots holding plants that may very well have been enchanted with something, or just as likely were there because they were the perfect visual addition.
“Well your timing is most serendipitous,” said, as if Gilmore sincerely believed it was good fortune that brought her here. “The store showed up from a past time but two days ago and I’m getting my bedazzled feet under me once more, shaking out the kinks that aren’t the fun ones and the like. Free time, that’s not a bad thing but abruptly, now that,” he lifted his brow, fingers twirling the end of his braided goatee. “That sounds like a story, my dear.”
Nesta raised an eyebrow at the funny man talking to her, but the most he got from her exterior was that and just a slight curve to the corner of her mouth. She let herself wander a little, finger just lightly brushing across a few items, despite knowing they’re magical and potentially dangerous. Nesta liked to live on the side of danger, eyes widening at just how much there was here.
“It looks as if your shop and your magic fits in remarkably well with this place.” She cast a look over her shoulder at him at his prompting for gossip, and thankfully the sting of the bookshop was much more dull now, as a few days had passed. The shopkeep here was infinitely more approachable, and if Nesta could drive a little more money his way and outside of where she’d been burned, she would.
It was a level of deviousness she hadn’t gotten to display since she was far younger. Not unkindly, shrugged. “I had taken over the management of a bookshop that had been abandoned here. After doing all of the work to reopen it and make it suitable for the public again, and weeks of manning it, the owner returned and I was kicked out. Apparently, my services are no better than a clerk or secretary.” She stopped a long, navy blue cloak, seemingly enchanted to drape lovingly in mid-air, as if an invisible form was under it. The magic itself was impressive enough, but it was the cloak that really caught her eye.
Gilmore flicked his fingers in the air, causing a tea set to float over (naturally, the pieces coordinated with the fabric looped between the beams of the ceiling) and arrange itself on the nearby table. “Tea?” he offered, before taking a sugar cube and placing it between his back teeth, so that each sip of tea was sweetened by the melting sugar. He’d grown up drinking it that way and had yet to shed that bit of his background.
He clicked his tongue in dismay at Nesta’s story, accompanied by a thoughtful drum of his ringed fingers on the table. “I don’t know what I would have done if that had been me. I suppose I would have just moved on and started a new shop! I’m the Gilmore of the glorious goods, and without me, the goods are neither good nor glorious.” Confident? Absolutely. But you didn’t dress, accessorize, act, and outfit the shop the way Gilmore did without confidence in spades. “Sometimes, my darling, life isn’t fair. And it kicks us, and it kicks us, and it kicks us again. But the best revenge is to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and rise like a godsdamned blazing phoenix.”
Over the rim of the delicate teacup, Gilmore watched Nesta with an appraising look, but whatever the golden wheels in his head were turning up, he didn’t give away. “Do you like the cloak? You can say no, it won’t hurt my feelings. You’d be wrong, of course,” he added, with a laugh that was all an invitation to laugh with him, rather than being cutting. “What do you think about it?”
She could have powered through it, but Nesta wasn’t one to do things she didn’t enjoy, and Elain had spoiled her on the good tea - the one purchased from fae here in Vallo. That mortal things tasted horribly to her now was still an annoyance, even if she tried to mask it with nonchalance. “I’ll pass on the tea, thank you.”
Nesta wasn’t one to often feel sorry for herself. Her little break down with Cassian was one in a million, and only with him. So her look in Gilmore’s direction was confident, her chin up high as she took in his words with a quirk to her eyebrow. “Please, spare me the lecture about life not being fair.” It wasn’t harsh, necessarily, as his tone wasn’t condescending, but it did make her sigh just a little. “You won’t find me wallowing about, I prefer to steep far into my bitterness until everything around me is on fire.”
“I would have called the cloak ugly when I first saw it if I didn’t like it,” Nesta admitted with a little smug smile. “It’s beautiful.”
“Woe be unto your enemies,” Gilmore said, with an arch of the graceful swoop of his own eyebrow. He meant it though, Shaun Gilmore could size up people in moments and something told him that when Nesta spoke, it wasn’t just with the heart of a woman who had been scorned. She wasn’t someone who said something she didn’t stand by. “And that was no lecture, just some free advice, although I do appreciate your reference to burning with my phoenix analogy, as I enjoy a commitment to a theme.”
No sense in wallowing or bemoaning for what was gone...even when it really wasn’t. And sometimes that was the hardest part, when whatever you had or wanted was still right there. But right, that was enough of that! He’d much rather chuckle at Nesta’s straightforwardness. “I only make beautiful things! Cloak of Gliding,” he offered. “Fairly self-explanatory I hope! I enchanted it with a Feather Fall spell, just because I could.” That was a cloak Gilmore had no intention of showing Vex’ahlia, what with her desire to fly coupled with a tight grip on the party purse and her tenacious bargaining.
Finished with the tea, Gilmore waved his hand and the same magic that brought out the set, took it away. Sometimes he tried not to rely on his magic for everyday tasks but oh, it did tend to make things easier. “What was your favorite part of the store, hm? Or, in lieu of that, the part that whoever the owner is will be absolutely kicking themselves for losing you?”
Nesta finally laughed, a small quiet one, pointed directly at the cloak. It was amusing to her, that there were phoenix analogies and cloaks enchanted with falling magic, all surrounding her. “I may need this, you know. I have a-” She wasn’t sure what to call Cassian. Friend felt so…. base for what he was, but anything more would have been a stretch. “Person. He has wings, and is constantly suggesting he fly me about.”
Perhaps if her sister’s rude lover hadn’t ruined it for her, or she knew she had a backup, it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Nesta ran a hand down the fabric once more before finally turning away to look around the rest of the store she was in, sighing as she pictured the bookshop. “I doubt he’ll kick anything, he’d have to remove his head from his ass first.”
She was, if anything, forthright. But Nesta gave in to his question and tried to act as if she didn’t care any longer when she answered casually. “The books, I suppose. Having a place that made for quiet, and being able to disconnect with numbers and inventory.”
Shaun Gilmore liked to think he knew the measure of people. It was why he took a chance on a ragtag group of adventurers calling themselves the Shits (thank the gods that had changed, at least), not just because their rogue was attractive, but because he could tell there was something special about them. They needed a chance. He’d once needed a chance too, and had seized the one given to him and flourished with it, thank you very much. He saw potential, whether in items or in people, and his instincts usually paid off in spades much more often than not.
He liked Nesta. She was spirited, decisive, and opinionated. There were things Gilmore could teach, and there were things he couldn’t. Gilmore had always enjoyed the interactions with the customers, the enchantments, the design of the store, and although he obviously wanted to be successful and knew how to drive a profit, his method of bookkeeping had always been more along the lines of ‘eh, it’ll sort itself out’ rather than keeping track of every copper. He undercharged someone, he charged more to someone else who could afford it, he took more commissions, he went to find rare objects, he always found ways! Even as Sherri rolled her eyes, sighed, and had a wrinkle between her brows that Gilmore swore he had a cream for.
“Well!” With another drum of his fingers on the counter, Gilmore straightened, decision made. “If you’d like a job, I have one. Technically, I suppose I have as many as I’d care to have, but I prefer to be discerning and selective.”
“What?” The question was simple, but rhetorical, as Nesta had certainly heard what he said. But to offer her a job so openly, and after hearing her experience, it put her on edge immediately. But then, Nesta didn’t easily trust anyone, and especially not someone she had only just met.
Even if by some odd instinct, she had a much better feeling about him than she did most. But that could have just as easily be her slipping, and the thought wavered in the back of her brain. The doubt crept forward, and Nesta squared her shoulders to look at him with her chin up. She was in the take-no-shit position that she often took with Feyre when Nesta was on edge. “I don’t want your pity job, sir.” A resounding reminder of Rhys and his knack at doing just that as far as Nesta was concerned. Fuck Rhysand, and fuck anyone who followed suit. “I’m not a whim.”
“You missed the part about discerning and selective, I see,” Gilmore pointed out, and if he was flustered or even upset at Nesta’s rejection, he certainly didn’t appear to be. You didn’t dress how he did, perform how he did without developing a thick skin. Maybe a job offer had been a bit sudden, sure, but when he made up his mind, he acted. No risk, no reward!
He also didn’t shrink away from Nesta’s ire but also didn’t try to match it. Instead, he shrugged, hands open. “There was no pity intended, I assure you, and I’m sorry if it came across that way. I simply think that you seem like a smart, capable person with some fire to you, and I like people who are smart, capable, and with some fire to them.Think about it, hm? And if the answer is still no, that’s alright, I’m sure you’ll do simply splendidly wherever you decide to land. When you do, come back, we’ll talk more about the cloak, but I’ll warn you,” he winked. “I drive a hard bargain.”
What would Elain do? Nesta let her shoulders go back to a normal angle as she released a breath. She didn’t need to be on edge, she knew it, but it was a daily work at being less tense when she immediately took offense to things. He gave a good reason, and it was enough to turn her head a little. Make her think. That usually said a lot for a person, and Nesta was quiet for a few long moments, considering.
“I’ll think about it,” she finally agreed with a little nod. She breezed by him, stopping her confident gaze on his cutting form. “At the very least, I will be back for that cloak, I promise you that. Bargain or not.”