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Another night, another nickle. Nevy's minding the front desk, continuing to sketch in their notebook because there's nobody actually coming in to shop this evening.
It's a small used book store, with all the cramped, chaotic shelving that entails. The purchase counter (really a second-hand office desk) is wedged into the opening, giving just enough space for a visitor in front and for Nevy behind.
Guess again, Nevy! The bookstore is about to be invaded. The bell above the door jingles and Rhea bursts in. She's dressed in a damask-pattern broomstick skirt and a tie-dye tank-top style men's undershirt, her hair in two impossibly long black braids. She seems very annoyed at something or another, but it doesn't seem to be Nevy; she throws herself on the desk, arms stretching all the way across the surface. "Help me, shopkeeper," she purrs plaintively. "You are my only hope."
At the Pavlovian stimulus of the bell, Nevy straightens, drops the plume-rubber-banded-to-a-bic-pen, and puts on their best Retail Service Smile. This smile becomes slightly more genuine at the appearance of someone possibly as extra as Nevy themself is. "I shall pledge my aid to your cause," they say with just as much drama. "What do you seek?"
"I do realize you are a used bookstore, but please tell me that you are the only store in this ridiculous town that has a copy of the Athanassakis translation of the Orphic Hymns." She lifts a hand, pointing. "Not the Taylor translation, I do not want that abomination."
Oh god is she an intellectual Karen? A Karentellectual? Nevermore gives their best retail approximation of a sympathetic smile.. "I can't guarantee what we have in stock, but I'll be glad to show you to our Classics section so we can see what we have. Will that work? Please don't be a Karen please don't be a Karen
Nevy blinks, then smiles in relief. "Right this way?" They say, taking the arm and leading the way confidently down an aisle... before cursing under their breath and backtracking to the next aisle. "Sorry. This place's layout gets me turned around, sometimes. Here we are. Classics." It's... not a huge section, but it exists!
Rhea giggles, patting their arm. "Oh don't worry, those are the best kind of bookstores! I love to get lost in them." Rhea hurries toward the Classics section, standing on tiptoe to start at the beginning and search the titles. "Oh," she breathes, "You have some real gems! Ooh!" She plucks one slim volume off the shelf, tucking it against her chest as she keeps searching. "Oh yes, good translation....oh yes Ovid, I see you there, no, you shall not tempt me into yet another copy!" She tsks at the book, and then gasps, grabbing a text. "Ah! Here it is!"
Nevy smiles. "I'm glad we have it!" They shake their head, chuckling. "I'm not sure how the owner does it. He gets some of the most obscure volumes I've ever seen."
"This is relatively obscure," she agrees, tucking the book safely in her embrace with the other. "Well, I could have just bought a new copy, but..." Rhea smiles sheepishly, tucking a stray lock of raven hair behind her ear. "Used books have soul."
Nevy chuckles and nods. "Absolutely. About the only type with more character are handbound." They smile. "Want to look up anything else while you're here?"
Rhea cocks her head, turning this way and that. "What do you have? Mm...show me....the most underrated book that you have."
"Systir? Are you in here?" Can be heard coming from the direction of the front desk, as the bell chimes.
Nevy blinks. "Hello?" They look at Rhea.
"Oh!" She turns, shouting towards the front. "OUI, I HAVE FOUND THE BOOK I WANTED!" She turns back to Nevy, waving a hand. "Don't worry, it's just my sister. Shall we?"
Eyrgjafa is not prepared to brave the depths of this bookstore without a guide. Or at least a piece of string to mark her route back out. Especially not when the person she's looking for is likely heading her way already.
Nevy chuckles. "Let's stop by the front to add her to the adventuring party. If she wanders too far in, the minotaur will catch her. And he's a super boring conversationalist." And with that, they lead the way up to the front of the store. They pause when they see Eyr again. "Oh! Hello again." They glance between Eyr and Rhea. "Sisters?"
Rhea bobs her head, offering a bright, disarming smile. "She's adopted."
"We adopted each other, thank you very much," Eyrgjafa mock-huffs, before glancing at Nevy. "Yes, the two of us are sisters."
Nevy looks between the two and nods. Then they turn to Eyr. "It's wonderful to see you here again," They say with a bit of a glint in their eye. They wink with the eye not facing Rhea, then turn toward her. "I think I know the perfect book for you. Want to come along?"
"Oui, lead the way! I am tingly with anticipation." Rhea waves a hand to encourage Nevy onward.
"Now I'm curious, too," Eyrgjafa comments drily, following behind the pair.
Into the shelves, the travelers once again venture. Nevy leads them past classics, through myths and world religions, into the fiction section.
Rhea is slow in following as they pass through Mythology, reaching to touch a few volumes with a fond expression.
Eyrgjafa also touches a few of the volumes in the Mythology section with a fond expression. Likely not the same ones, though.
Nevy notices this. Then, they walk into... the genre fiction. The cheapo paperbacks. And Nevermore is pulling out a copy of Anne Rice's Interview with a Vampire. "One of the best works of comedy I've ever read." They say, deadpan.
Rhea takes the paperback with a curious expression, but no more than a typical bookworm perusing an unfamiliar book. "I haven't read it," she murmurs, wrinkling her nose. "It doesn't look like my thing."
It takes a moment, but then Eyrgjafa bursts out laughing delightedly.
Nevy grins and chuckles. "Sorry," they say. "I couldn't resist."
Rhea still looks absolutely blank; whatever the joke is, it's clear she doesn't get it. "....All right," she manages awkwardly, holding out the paperback to Nevy. "I think I'll pass, thank you though!"
Nevy takes it and puts it back on the shelf. "That was mostly an inside joke based on a conversation your sister and I had the last time she was here," They say. "For the real book I'd recommend... Hmmm. You like mythology. Do you prefer fiction or nonfiction?"
Eyrgjafa shrugs slightly, glancing at Rhea. "I'm fine either way, as long as the nonfiction you're going to recommend isn't the fluffy clueless pagan type."
"I mean no offense," Rhea laughs, "But I highly doubt there is anything on the subject you could suggest that is not known to me." Her tone is not unkind, one shoulder lifting in a carefree shrug. "I am a longstanding scholar on such topics."
Nevy nods. "Okay then..." They ponder for a moment.
"Fiction, then?" She glances at Rhea. "You never know, they could be going to suggest something on a culture the two of us don't know much about as yet."
"I don't know," Rhea replies, nose wrinkling. "Honestly, I don't care much for fiction...but I can try it, I suppose."
Nevy nods. "How do you feel about ghost stories, then?"
"...Please don't tell me you're going to recommend Poe's stuff? I read that decades ago."
"I...do like ghost stories," she replies to Nevy, glancing sidelong at Eyrgjafa.
"Poe? Underrated? You wound me!" Nevy throws a hand to their chest dramatically, then heads off to the next aisle over, where they pull a hardbound volume from the shelf. The dust jacket is white, with red lettering and a black-and-white drawing of a grotesque scarecrow. "Scary stories to tell in the dark," They say. "The stories themselves are... fairly predictable, if I'm going to be honest, but the artwork has inspired nightmares in thousands of children since the eighties."
Eyrgjafa arches an eyebrow innocently at Rhea.
Rhea takes the book, glancing it over. "Every story has been told before," she assures Nevy. "A hundred times, a thousand. All leading back to the first stories, the archetypes of all things."
There’s a rubble outside, and the door opens to reveal a wild Guy, dressed in is usual clothes, sans his biker jacket. He moves into the shop, looking around.
Nevy chuckles. "This is true. Sometimes the fun is how it's told." They look up at the bell. "I'll be with you in a second!" They say. They turn to the vomen. "What do you think?"
"Could be interesting. For the artwork, anyway. Stories are all in the execution." She glances at Rhea. "Anything interesting in it?"
"I'll take it," she nods. "As for your classics section, if you get any hardcovers in good repair - I will buy them. Particularly if you come across a copy of the Argonautica or the Chaldean Oracles. I am happy to pay well for such volumes." She shrugs, handing the volume off to Eyrgjafa. "Take a look, if you like."
He follows the voices, making his way to the section where the others are gathered. When he sees Nevy, he grins. “Fancy meeting you here,” he purrs as he approaches, before nodding to Eyrg and Rhea.
Nevy nods with a smile. "If you'd like to pause in the mythology section while I help out other customer, you're welcome to take a look ar- oh!" They blink. "You were at the, uh, the parking garage. With the.... the thing."
"Hello, Guy. What brings you here?" Eyrgjafa seems more curious, as she opens the book, flicking through it for the artwork.
Rhea can't help herself; when the others are distracted, she scoots to one side so she can lean back against the shelf. She flips open her treasured volume and begins to read; as she does, her expression softens and her dark eyes are nearly luminous, so profound is the emotional effect of what she reads.
Nevy looks nonplussed, then looks at Rhea. "Oh, I don't think I introduced myself - My name is Nevermore."
"You didn't?" Eyrgjafa glances up. "Nevermore, this is Rhea. Systir mín, Nevermore."
“I was hoping to talk to you, Eyrgjafa, about the incident yesterday where I ran into Nevermore here, actually.”
Rhea brightens, looking up from her book; she's radiant, caught up in whatever spell the book has cast over her. "Oh, mon dieu - forgive me," she tells Nevermore. "I was so excited for the book. I'm Rhea; your name is lovely."
Nevy smiles. Then blinks. "Does Phaedra work for you?" They glance at Guy and shudder. Apparently the encounter was not Fun.
"Oh?" She glances at Nevermore. "Are you good to have it talked about here?"
He looks to Nevermore. “Are we? I don’t want to step upon your neck place of business.”
Rhea perks up, her expression turning delighted. "Phaedra - oui, she does! Oh, she is my brilliant tarot reader, oui. Do you know Phaedra too? Well, of course you do - you asked, after all."
Nevermore nods. "She mentioned a project - I'd like to talk with you about it sometime." They glance at the other vamps. "But... it sounds like there may be other talk happening right now." They shrug. "I mean, I don't own the place. But I am closing tonight, and we're probably not getting many other night owls in here before closing unless you guys have other, ah, nocturnal friends coming."
"Not that I'm aware of, at least." She glances at Nevermore. "What time do you close?"
"Oh, of course! I'm not engaged in whatever you have to discuss, and...honestly, I desperately wish to read my book." She draws a little card from her skirt, holding it out to Nevy. "My card. Call on me at Penny Dreadful, if you like."
“I can stay near-ish the door, and listen for people approaching.”
Nevy takes the card. "Thank you. Enjoy the book." They ring her up efficiently and take care of the purchase in time for the next player's pose.
Speaking of people approaching, here comes Atalo, the vampire moving along with Cerberus in tow and dressed in jeans and a white shirt. It's taken him a little while to find Nevy's store, but find it he has, and he knocks on the door lightly before opening it, staying out for now and looking for anyone in view.
Rhea stays long enough to touch her lips to Eyrgjafa's cheek, and then escapes with her books!
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