Cáca Meala

{ cw; swearing }

"Ah, no, I'm terribly sorry but I don't believe we have that book in stock any longer."

With a small swipe of a fingertip across the tip of his tongue, Rían turned the page of the book lying just out of view of the customer in front of him. A loud, unhappy grunt left the patron. Rían only glanced up at the towering figure— yet another orc with a less than inviting disposition, the third one that morning. 

Their eyes met only briefly, and then something dropped onto the counter with a soft, muted thud. 

"Hm?" Rían hummed as he perked up a bit, observing the beige cloth bag before leaning over to take a peek inside. There's an instant spark in his eyes, unable to keep from snickering ever so slightly as he pulled the bag over and behind the counter. "Actually, perhaps I'll take another look. We've an awfully extensive inventory, after all, perhaps I simply missed it."

That snicker was replaced with a warm smile, straightening his posture as he stepped further behind the counter and walked directly into one of the doorways to his left. He'd known precisely where that book was— The Taxonomy and Lexicon of Fae, Elves and Nymphs. A first edition, at that. Rían brushes his hand across the cover a few times to remove any dust that may have accumulated. 

He hummed. He idled. He counted the number of yellow books lining his shelves. Surely that was a believable amount of time to pass, so he walked back out to the counter. "Silly me, I glanced right over it!" He chuckled, placing the book down on the counter, taking out a sheet of light blue paper and a magenta string from one of the small drawers underneath. "That'll be a hundred and twenty platin, kind one." 

Another grunt left the patron. With a loud clang of metal and a quickly swiped book, Rían found his entire countertop covered in silver coins and unused wrapping material. By the time he'd lifted his gaze, the customer was long gone. 

And he laughed again. 

Picking up all of the coins, Rían set them under the counter before retrieving the cloth bag from the ground. The scent is already beginning to permeate the entire shop and he's yet to fully open it— which he does upon retreating into the back room. 

Sparkly, shiny, incredibly sweet. Unmistakably what he needed. He gave himself two little hops of enthusiasm and none more, swiftly tucking the bag away in a chilly box just underneath one of the floorboards. Telling Áine to spread the word around town during her next— much anticipated— outing had been one of the best ideas ever conceived in his little head. 

The bell rang just as the floorboard had settled down into its home. Rían pushed himself up from the ground, now making a mental note to sweep that evening as he brushed away the dirt from his trousers. 

"It's just me." A voice called, and Rían immediately sprang over to the doorway. 

His hands clasped, now held against his cheek as he looked over at the all too familiar figure before him. "Oh dear brother, the fates must have shined upon me today to have brought you home so early!" 

Gwyn's face contorted into something akin to disgust, then, and that was enough for Rían to crack the persona. He started laughing as the disgust turned to a simple head shake and pinching of the nose bridge. 

"I truly cannot wrap my head around how your brain works." Gwyn sighed, turning and looking over at his brother once more. 

He stood behind the counter, propping his head up with his elbows on the wood. "Maybe you're just not smart or quick-witted enough to think like me." 

All that garnered was a roll of the eyes. Gwyn seemed to pace somewhat before stopping by the stairway entry, looking at the calendar that hung beside it. His finger quietly traced across the written weeks before stopping on one specific date that Rían couldn't make out from where he was standing— even when he leaned over the counter to try and get a glance. 

"Full moon's coming soon, huh?" 

"Is it?" Rían asked, tilting his head. "I guess Anwyn must've added something this morning."

Gwyn pursed his lips briefly before shifting the hand away from the wall, pushing it through his hair instead as he mumbled, "Yeah, knowing her, I just didn't realise it."

From what he could see, it looked like Gwyn was walking back over and Rían opened his mouth as if to say something, but he stopped himself. His brother's hair, now a still somewhat unfamiliar peppering of silver amongst jet black, had fallen back into his face and each feature is set with a sleepy sort of apprehension. 

Rían's lips pursed and he let both of his feet lay flat against the floor as he once again propped his head up with a hand on his jaw. "Áine was asking after you, y'know. She and Anwyn wanted you to come and see the tavern, it's all done being fixed up." 

"Already?"

"Fionn's a quick worker, what can I say." 

"Eh..." There's clear hesitation clouding Gwyn's face for all but a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "I'll go down there, then. You're all good here, evidently." 

"Good idea!" Rían exclaimed, dropping his hands flat on the countertop. "You don't need to worry about me, I would be more worried about Áine finding out you came here and never stopped by to say hello to her." 

~~

"What d'ye mean?" 

That voice is lowered to a hiss. The constant, even pace of Rían drumming his fingertips against the wood is almost as loud. 

"I mean, we don't take this kind of payment," He responded before he pointed to the blue-tinted glass jar, "and hypothetically, even if we did, this is the wrong one." 

"Wrong one? Eh? Wrong one?!" She shouted. 

"There's no need to get upset, miss—"

Her hand came down upon the counter, knocking the jar over and causing the entire structure to shutter. "Wasted me entire mornin' findin' yer damn imp forest figs and yer tellin' me I got the wrong fuckin' ones?!" 

"In my own defence, I specifically said cat sí forest figs, so I think there was something lost in translation here. " Rían waved his hand before quickly stepping back, grabbing a small sheet of memo paper. Snapping his fingers, he proceeded to hold it out to her. "As I said, we don't take payment like that, but I can give you the directions to where you can find those specific figs. Then maybe I can see if we have that book you need."

"Not just a book, ye lil punk," She grumbled, snatching it from his grasp and picking up her jar, "that bloody thing's a weapon, it is. Should've been mine a hundred years back." 

Small scribbles began appearing across the small piece of paper and the woman scanned them as they became legible. She continued muttering to herself as she turned, walking ahead and right out the front door with a loud slam. 

Rían glanced down at the wood of the countertop. There's an indigo blue handprint the woman had left and— oh great, the door is blue now.

One of the many reasons he never liked dealing with sorcerers. 

But on the bright side, I might get one of the last things I need.

~~

Thud.

"Bloody cat sí forest figs," The woman spoke, the irritation all too evident in every word as the jar was haphazardly dropped on the counter. "This better be the right fuckin' thing." 

Rían was crouched behind the counter and popped up upon hearing her enter. The sun is much lower in the lavender-coloured sky, still pouring in through the window. It's a different jar, this one is normal glass, and he can instantly tell they're the right figs.

"What a coincidence," He chirped, "I needed this exactly!" 

Her gaze, steely and sharp, was burning directly into his face as he took them from the counter. "Yeah yeah, bloody coincidence."

A few moments pass of total silence after he'd carefully placed the jar on one of the shelves behind him. Until he perked up. "Ah! Your book! Silly me—"

"Cut the shite."

"Okay, okay, my goodness." Rían raised his hands up as if in surrender, turning and taking himself into the back room, quickly beginning to scan across the rows and rows of books. 

Necronomicon Volume I, Volume II, Volume III... Grimoire of Underworld Enchantment... 

No, no, no— his finger abruptly paused on the very book he'd been looking for. Aha. Rían very nearly grabbed it but quickly drew his hand away upon feeling the heat against his skin and subsequently remembering what book it was.

Ah, damn it. 

He looked around the room, then, hoping to find something lying around. Spring had eliminated his need for gloves— just his luck, there weren't any in there. Dust was puffing up into his face as he rifled through the piles of miscellaneous items that had accumulated without his realisation. The tapping of the woman's foot from just a few feet away was making him quicken his pace.

Upon feeling something vaguely resembling cloth, he pulled it out. One of Gwyn's torn and long discarded coat sleeves. A gift from the heavens above. Rían wrapped it around his hand and carefully pulled the book from the shelf. Why buy a fae-proof book from a fairy? One of many great, unsolvable questions he would now ponder as he hurriedly walked to the counter, tossing the book before discarding the makeshift glove. 

"That'll be three hundred platin, miss— and you getting rid of all the—" Rían's gaze fell in particular to the growing patch of blue spreading across his beloved store counter, "uh, blue that you have infected everything with." 

All he could hear was angry muttering and the metallic rattling of coins as the sorceress, her eyebrows furrowed and hair beginning to turn even redder than it had been before. The spot of indigo vanished the moment she pressed her fingertip against it, seemingly drawing it back up into her being before the bag of coins dropped onto the counter. 

"Never comin' back here, ye lil bastard." She said, grabbing the book and tucking it under her arm. 

Rían watched as she stormed out, taking the blue off of the door as she did so. "Have a nice rest of the day, miss!" He called after, a smug smirk having snuck its way onto his face. 

~~

Last thing, last thing. 

The sky is dark blue, now. Dotted with sparkling stars, bursts of light that had to be nebulas in faraway galaxies in every colour imaginable, all paired with the gentle breeze of a cool spring night. Rían hid his hands away in his pockets, allowing the bright white moon above to light his path. Anwyn had told him where to go.

Now he's praying that she wasn't pulling a mean joke on him. 

Every building and storefront looks different, from the signage to the glass windows, to the fireflies trapped in jars as light sources and the infinitely burning candles that not even the wind could snuff out. Lady Eithne had moon lilies in front of her cottage— nearly impossible to miss. Assuming Anwyn was in fact telling the truth. 

Rían stopped upon the cobblestone street, finding a spot that veered away. A path lined and illuminated by white, glowing lilies. 

Maybe I'll be good and listen to her a little more often. 

Thinking such a thing almost felt like a defeat. He turned to follow the uneven, dirt-paved road with only the light of the flowers to help him. The walk isn't long. All around him, rustling leaves, birds shaking the branches of the trees, the melodic chimes of bell crickets and songs of butterflies as they floated all around him. 

He's standing in front of his destination, and Lady Eithne had opened the door the very moment he arrived. 

"Oh little one," Her voice is as gentle as her smile, allowing him to draw closer before her arms enveloped him in a tight embrace. It's easy to forget just how big the elves are in comparison to their fey relatives— something Rían is remembering now as he's buried in the excess draping cloth of her nightgown. "It's been far too long since you've come by. It's rather close to the full moon, as well. Has anything happened?" 

Once she's let him go, resting her hands upon his shoulders as she leaned down enough to be just a bit closer to eye level, there's a twinge of concern in her words. 

"Anwyn says you've been rather busy here, I wanted to be sure you were settled before I came and pestered you." Rían joked, glancing down at his satchel very briefly before looking up at her again. "No, no, nothing really, Gwyn said the wolfsbane oil you made was helping him a lot. I actually came by to ask if you had something?"

She laughed lightly. "Of course, my dear. You know I've quite a lot of things after all." 

"These moon lilies— do you have any honey from them?" He asked before digging his hand into his bag, taking out a small book with mauve binding. "I can give you this in exchange since I don't usually get to give you anything at all." 

Lady Eithne looked down at the book and her eyes of soft pink suddenly brightened. "Oh, my darling fair one, you are the sweetest little thing I've ever met! I have plenty of honey from these beautiful little flowers— but you have to come inside and sit with me for a bit of tea before you dare to set out again, okay?" 

With a somewhat sheepish smile on his lips, Rían nodded his head. "I would love that a lot, my Lady." 

~~

Ow.

Rían couldn't stifle the groan that escaped him as he opened his eyes, foolishly attempting to sit up. His back cracked the moment he tried— and he's regretting falling asleep at the kitchen table again. There was no rubbing it away, although he had a hand on his back trying to do exactly that, before he moved that hand to rid the blurriness from his eyes. 

The sun is just beginning to tint the sky a pale gold and break through the surrounding trees. Áine and Anwyn had stopped by once the tavern closed an hour after midnight, catching him just as he'd walked in from closing the bookstore. 

'You got everything?' Anwyn asked. 

'Yeah, everything, it was dead easy after she told everyone.'

Áine scoffed, then. 'Well, you get people more willing to give you what you want when you dangle what they want in front of their faces— especially the ‘not-so-legal’ stuff.'

'I mean, you did give me the idea, so you kind of taught all of us that.' 

'Then you learned from the best, and I believe what you're trying to say is thank you.'

Rían looked around the kitchen, still somewhat dazed from sleep, before the scent of figs and cinnamon hit him all at once. He perked up. The cake. A bit of renewed energy shot through him as he pushed up from his chair, rushing over to the oven and opening it. The cinders at the bottom were whistling at him, flicking up across the pan as he grabbed it with his now mitted hands. 

"Thanks, little guys." He whispered, watching them burn out as he closed the door. 

If it had been any other time, he would've left it to cool in the pan for a few minutes— but he didn't have the minutes to spare. It's piping hot as he tips it out onto the serving plate he'd found the night before. 

Now he's sat at the kitchen table once again, a cup of rose tea to his left, a jar of Lady Eithne's dimly glowing honey to his right and the cake sitting directly in front of him. The remnants of the full moon that had dipped down and out of sight had passed, replaced by the brightening golden light of the rising sun. 

The front door opened, followed by the sound of heavy, trudging feet across creaking wooden floors. Rían stays quiet as the footsteps move from the entryway over to the hallway, before idling for only a moment. 

"Rían?" A weary voice called, unable to go beyond a normal speaking volume. 

"Kitchen." He called back. 

There's a small sigh that follows. Gwyn finds himself standing in the doorway, looking over at his brother. His hair, which appears to have gained another few brand new strands of silver, is messy and still tinged with dirt and dead leaves. The shadows under his eyes are almost as dark as the night only a few hours before. 

Rían snaps his fingers, sending two small sparks right into the wicks of the candles set in the cake. He's smiling over at Gwyn before pushing the cake closer to the side of the table. 

The air is still and quiet. Gwyn is looking between his brother and the cake. His senses are still sharp and sensitive, and there's no question about what it was. His favourite cake. He'd nearly forgotten about it being his birthday at all— it seldom so unluckily fell on a full moon and the walk back home had him desperate to simply go to bed. 

And now there's a lightening feeling running through him. One that was stinging at his eyes which began to tear up— although he daren't let any escape. 

"Happy Birthday, Gwyn,” Rían said, unable to keep from how his smile had shifted into a grin, “you old man."