St. James Boutique

"Secretive?" parroted Odette, looking at the rune scribing woman with awe, and perhaps a bit of hero worship. "But I can keep your secrets! I am very, very, very, very, VEEERY good at keeping secrets," the prettily dressed ten year old said enthusiastically, charming in her dedication to assurances. "Just ask Maman, I keep all of her secrets!"

Interesting. Did Genevieve St. James have secrets to keep?

"I am sure that Maman would be pleased if you were my friend, but I will ask." Odette slipped off the couch and moved over to her mother. She looked at Silas with blue eyes so like her mother's, and then felt bashful in the presence of a man.

Genevieve seated herself on the cushioned stool to continue her work, her silk skirts afloat around her. Her elegant profile was gifted to Silas, and every so often as she worked, she looked over to him and smiled, to show him she was paying attention, and because she liked the sound of his voice.

"The coat drew you in, of course," Genevieve told him. "It was meant for you, and you wear it well." She pricked her finger and looked away from him, missing his blush. But Odette saw. "Mm, my name is--"

"Excuse moi," Odette said, interrupting her mother midsentence, her gaze on Silas, but her hand tugging on the bell sleeve of Genevieve's gown. "Maman, je pou--"

"Non, Odette, in Common. You are being very rude. Apologize," Genevieve chastised, more in a disappointed tone than a scolding one. Odette had the grace to blush.

"I'm sorry," she said to Silas, her gaze on the floor. Genevieve set down the hem of the gown and turned to her daughter, giving her an expectant look.

"May I be friends with Intaja?" Odette asked, gesturing to the girl. Genevieve smiled warmly.

"Of course. And as a friend, you should ask her to dinner."

"Really, Maman?!"

"Yes, oui, go on," Genevieve said and gestured for Odette to go ask Intaja. Genevieve rose from her seat and moved behind the counter Silas leaned against, reaching for a small bit of cloth for the prick of her finger.

"My name is Genevieve (Jon-vee-evv)," she said to Silas. "Would you and your friend like to stay for dinner?" It seemed as if there would never be a lack of warmth or space at Genevieve's table, or home, but what of her heart?

Odette sat down beside Intaja. "Maman gave me permission. Would you like to stay for dinner? I could show you my book collection. It really is rather extensive."

She blushed at how Silas said her name again, almost as if savoring it. Her blue gaze dropped to his coat, and she gave a slight shake of her head, the few whisps of gold that had escaped her chignon swaying around her face.

"Yes, of course," she said to him. "Will you need clothes? You can use the washroom," she offered. It wouldn't be like a full bath, but he could sponge bathe himself at the very least.

[ Intaja and Silas are free to exit to 17b Willowbark Drive thread. End scene!]

Genevieve was humming to herself as she worked. The dress she had previously been working on was gone, and in its stead was a man's overcoat. It was made of rich, black velvet, and sleeveless. A masculine, sharp edged design in gold was upon its shoulders, and mirrored at the waist of the long coat where it could be pinned together. Currently, Genevieve was working on finishing the golden seems, seated low on her stool with her own beautiful red-pink gown on.

She heard the bell above her door chime, and she didn't at first look up from her work. "Bonjour!" she called. "I will be with you in just a moment," she told whoever the customer was, the beautiful blonde not yet lifting her head from her work. When she didn't immediately hear a response, she looked over her elegant shoulder, and that's when she saw the beast.

A soft cry ripped from her lips, and she immediately dropped her thimble and thread. She stabbed her needle into the coat and the dummy beneath it, and then held her skirts up as she stood and rushed over to Tick.

"You poor thing!" she called, and didn't even seem to hesitate moving closer to the beast on her threshhold. There was a presence about Genevieve, an air about her that seemed to relax people near her, to trust in her and her giving and kindness. Even the shop itself seemed warm and inviting, a place where anyone would feel welcome and safe.

She snatched her hand back when the beast snarled at her, but it promptly passed out. Worry hammered a tattoo in her heart, a feeling echoed in the visage of her face. Her skirts rustled around her legs as she moved around the beast to flip her shop sign from OPEN to CLOSED, and then she moved onto her knees by the beast's shoulders.

For a moment, she hesitated to touch it, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. What if it became conscious again and attacked her? But no, the enchantments wouldn't have allowed the beast through if he had truly meant her harm. She shook her head, golden hair swaying around her face, and she wedged one arm beneath the beast and the other around its middle. Bracing herself on her knees, she heeeeaved to get the beast to move more into the room.

She heeeeaved again, and when it seemed that the beast was more or less within the shop, she stood up, a little out of breath, a few tresses of her hair undone from her chignon, and she moved to close the door, making sure not to catch Tick's tail in the jamb.

The lock upon the door glowed for a moment, and with a word she lifted her hands and gestured to the windows. The pretty curtains dropped closed, giving the shop some privacy as she turned to look down at the odd but fierce looking creature. What was she to do? She didn't know the first thing of caring for animals.

"Water," she said to herself, and she moved out of the front of the shop and through the archway to the back, presumably to fetch a bowl of water, and perhaps a few other things that she used on Odette when Odette seemed ill or weak.

She paused when she heard the beast speak, but she did not seem all that shocked that he had. She only gave a slight shake of her head and continued into the back room.

When she returned, she had two bowls, stacked, the top one with water. There was a towel draped over her slender arm, and a crystal decanter tucked against her side. She was wary as she approached the beast that had now become at least somewhat conscious. The only light in the room came from what sunlight was able to illuminate the feminine curtains upon the windows.

Genevieve gracefully sank down beside Tick, and she leaned forward to set the bowls on the floor. She lifted the water one off and to the side, and with slow but methodical movements -- so as not to spook the beast into snapping at her -- she poured rich brandy into the other bowl.

The brandy was well-aged and well-made, a product of Gauldin.

"Oui, I met Skarlet--" her words were cut off with a deep gasp as blood spewed from Tick's mouth and onto the carpet and the gown she was wearing. She went immediately still, her eyes going wide as her full lips dropped open with her gasp.

It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, the warmth of blood splattered over her seeping through the material. "Non, non," she said to the lion-beast, holding out a hand as a shaky, gentle smile turned her lips. "It's fine. It's only a dress," she said as she pushed herself up to stand.

"You are very ill. Or per'aps, wounded?" She asked and moved to draw a blouse and a full skirt from where they hung neatly in open boudoirs within her shoppe.

"You fell down a--What were you doing near--" her maternal instinct to berate "Tick" for such a foolish act was forcibly killed on her tongue. She simply just shook her head in the semi-darkness of the shoppe and listened to the rest of the beast's tale.

She stepped into the changing room, and the rustle of silk and skirts could be heard. When she emerged a few moments later, she was in a dark green velvet full skirt, edged in gold about her svelte waist and a plain white blouse, scooped so its long sleeves rested on just the tip of her shoulders with a bit of ruffle. Feminine, but servicable now. Splatters of his blood were still speckled on the elegant column of her throat and her dainty collar bones, but she seemed not aware.

"I know where the Midnight Sun is," Genevieve said to the Lion beast as she came back to him. She didn't seem at all irritated that he was asking her to go, either signalling that she didn't care of its reputation, or she didn't know about it. Her blue eyes were still so full of concern when she looked at him.

"Are you sure you'll be alright here?" There was nothing she could do about the blood that currently stained her carpet, not until the beast was gone. She'd have to pull it up and replace it, but once more, Genevieve didn't seem worried about that, either. "I don't want to leave you with no one to look after you," she admitted, but was clearly prepared to do as he asked.

She was only just putting her cloak around her shoulders, the faint hint of sparkle upon it seeming almost a trick of the light, considering its dull, dove grey material, when she heard Tick's hesitant voice.

If it should happen that I'm... deceased when you return
...

She stopped in her tracks, and instantly looked up at him. Her blue eyes were suddenly fierce, like a mother bear that had been prodded, and she left the room, holding her skirts in one hand to make her trek easier. By the rising noise in the walls, she was clearly headed upstairs.

Moments ticked and tocked by and she returned. In her hands was a small, snowy white cloak. It was very clearly charmed, very clearly heavily charmed. Magic seemed to pulse from it. As did the faint scent of age. She went down to her knees beside Tick, her skirts billowing out around her as if she were sitting on an emerald cloud, and she leaned forward to drape the cloak around Tick's neck.

"This should help you," Genevieve murmured quietly, smoothing her hand over Tick's shoulders so that the cloak -- clearly meant for a small person -- to drape more assuredly over his lionesque shoulders. "It won't heal you. But it will sustain what health you have until I return."

She poured what was left of her brandy into the bowl near him, and then rose. She took the earring he had offered and then headed towards the door of her shoppe. "I'll be back soon, Tick the Watchdog," Genevieve assured him, her Gauldish accent light on her voice.

The little bell above the door chimed quietly, followed by the faint click of the lock falling into place, and the beast was left alone in the dainty and feminine enchanted shoppe.