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 Posted: Fri Feb 28, 2014 6:45 pm
It wasn’t really that Abbot had a problem with her apartment smelling like tobacco. Really, it smelled like very nice tobacco, not that cheap crap everyone seems to be smoking. Refined, well bred, cared for tobacco was what her apartment smelled like, and it was a damn shame that the land lord couldn’t understand that. She had recently been given the ultimatum of freshen her apartment up or look for a new one. And after a healthy span of time spent chain smoking to spite the b*****d, Abbot Niles opted for the former of the two options. It seemed like the most reasonable.
And so she found herself in a small corner of a strange little shop, poking at irony. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted her apartment to smell like instead, something musky and strong. A scent she could feel. Something Abbot could wrap around herself and feel at home. She tossed aside roses and sandal wood finding nothing that really spoke to her. She needed something…
“Stronger…”
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Posted: Sun Mar 02, 2014 9:19 am
Angel was no stranger to candle shops, and similarly, the woman who walked through the doors of the shop was no stranger at all. Whenever Angel arrived (which amounted to nearly every weekend), she maintained a very specific goal with a budget meant for her wandering interests. And the clerks never minded her much - despite her eccentricities, she proved a steady source of income for the shop, and after a long tirade on demons and demonic rituals, they learned that asking her about her purchases led to some eyeroll answers. But Angel didn't mind - she knew she held the power and knowledge necessary to curse any clerk that reprimanded her for her beliefs.
At this time of day, few patrons roamed the shop - mostly bored housewives who sought out aromatherapy or needed a new candle to match their decor - but a few of the stragglers were of interesting note. Immediately Angel passed over the small collection of housewives, all smiles and rings, who discussed aromatherapy excitedly. Instead she moved with purpose, heels clacking adamantly against the faded hardwood floors, as she approached a unique redhead idling in the corner of the store. Something felt so terribly off about her, a feeling Angel often described as a cross between needles in the fingernails and sandpaper against the cuticles, but the occult devotee recognized the feeling well.
She was cursed, and Angel guessed that she was completely unaware of it.
"Whew!" She exclaimed upon approach. "You are all off-balance, girl, I can feel it." Afterward Angel fanned the air above the girl's head. "Roses and sandalwood aren't about to save you from a hex, either. You were right about needing something stronger." Now set upon a new mission, Angel picked through a variety of tapering candles displayed by scent. "Oh, none of these will do. Come now, they've got darker candles over here... Need to do something about that curse..." Eventually the woman's formerly strong speech devolved into a mumbling to herself as she hunted for the ideal candidate.
In the process, she took the girl's wrist and gave her a quick tug as an indication to follow. And in touching her, Angel shivered slightly; she could feel the off-kilter energies flowing across her skin. So many people felt off, but this one had it rough.
It'd take more than candles to fix this mess.
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