Sept 24, 2015 15:46:31 GMT -5
Post by Bartimaeus Crawson on Sept 24, 2015 15:46:31 GMT -5
The Cauldron Baubles was a small, cluttered store building a fast reputation for itself in the selling of reliable and luck-inducing charms. Nestled comfortably between an avant garde art gallery and a "mom and pop" restaurant that advertised authentic Wervera cuisine, the shop did relatively well, sustaining itself on selling potion ingredients as well as their cheap-yet-effective luck spells.
In the recent months, the two Crawsons - Elizabeth and her son Bartimaeus - had established themselves within the community, and were now privy to certain supplies such as rare roots for medicinal incantations, hair from exotic creatures to aid Beast students in their studies, and even spices and salts that were kept secret and hidden in a locked vault, such was their value. They didn't have many customers from the bustling streets purchase said sundries too often, but just the fact that they could boast about owning these prized novelties made Bartimaeus beam with pride.
The earthy scents of all the leaves and hides flooded Bartimaeus' nostrils with every breath; and although he could say he enjoyed the smell, he was looking forward to closing up shop in a few hours so that he could get some fresh air and clear the heady aromas from his head. But for now, there was inventory to stock. Quite possibly the most boring part of his day.
Business was paltry today, as typical for a weekday. With people struggling to handle their own jobs during the day, only the elderly and stay-at-home parents graced The Cauldron Baubles in the afternoons, gathering supplies. And weekends were when the younger crowd desperately wanted to feel lucky. Bartimaeus sighed and returned to tallying. They had sold three Dream Catchers, four luck-induced amulets to a family just moving into town, an entire bushel of Willow branches to an emphatic witch working on some of his odd experiments - the explanations of which Bartimaeus simply couldn't follow - and an entire sleeve of garlic along with a packet of their finest salt chipped from the pristine shores of the Isles of the Twins from old Ms. Frizzle. It was a pricey investment for the hobbling woman, the salts used in professional potion making, but Bartimaeus was certain she was just using it to season her roast chicken....
Bartimaeus pushed his pen and paper away, resting his swimming head in his hand and staring out into the vacant shop. He really needed to get some fresh air. He was beginning to feel light headed, but with his mother away he couldn't take a break and leave the shop unattended. Despite their usual flow, customers could drop in at a moment's notice, and they had their blooming reputation to uphold. There was one silver lining that Bartimaeus played with in his mind: Bad Luck had yet to rear its ugly head towards him today.
The operative word there being "yet."
In the recent months, the two Crawsons - Elizabeth and her son Bartimaeus - had established themselves within the community, and were now privy to certain supplies such as rare roots for medicinal incantations, hair from exotic creatures to aid Beast students in their studies, and even spices and salts that were kept secret and hidden in a locked vault, such was their value. They didn't have many customers from the bustling streets purchase said sundries too often, but just the fact that they could boast about owning these prized novelties made Bartimaeus beam with pride.
The earthy scents of all the leaves and hides flooded Bartimaeus' nostrils with every breath; and although he could say he enjoyed the smell, he was looking forward to closing up shop in a few hours so that he could get some fresh air and clear the heady aromas from his head. But for now, there was inventory to stock. Quite possibly the most boring part of his day.
Business was paltry today, as typical for a weekday. With people struggling to handle their own jobs during the day, only the elderly and stay-at-home parents graced The Cauldron Baubles in the afternoons, gathering supplies. And weekends were when the younger crowd desperately wanted to feel lucky. Bartimaeus sighed and returned to tallying. They had sold three Dream Catchers, four luck-induced amulets to a family just moving into town, an entire bushel of Willow branches to an emphatic witch working on some of his odd experiments - the explanations of which Bartimaeus simply couldn't follow - and an entire sleeve of garlic along with a packet of their finest salt chipped from the pristine shores of the Isles of the Twins from old Ms. Frizzle. It was a pricey investment for the hobbling woman, the salts used in professional potion making, but Bartimaeus was certain she was just using it to season her roast chicken....
Bartimaeus pushed his pen and paper away, resting his swimming head in his hand and staring out into the vacant shop. He really needed to get some fresh air. He was beginning to feel light headed, but with his mother away he couldn't take a break and leave the shop unattended. Despite their usual flow, customers could drop in at a moment's notice, and they had their blooming reputation to uphold. There was one silver lining that Bartimaeus played with in his mind: Bad Luck had yet to rear its ugly head towards him today.
The operative word there being "yet."