“Oh, hi…hi, hi, sorry about that. So many plants need so much attention” a guy said as he walked down the stairs, that super thick accent apparently went with a man who was built like a knitting needle; tall, but very lanky, maybe half a foot taller than me at first glance, however there was some muscle across his shoulders and chest as he moved, extremely icy pale olive toned skin that was icy, icy pale, a long tail of auburn colored hair down to the small of his back with a low widow’s peak, large bat like ears, thin and angular features and large upturned eyes that were…solid black: pupils and irises just a homologous expanse of inky black and irises maybe a little…too big for his eyes, as he smiled he showed these long, thin and razor sharp fangs were there in place of canine teeth, his hand on the railing showed theses short, sharp claws painted electric red, walking with…a walking stick of some kind in his left hand, obviously not needing it by the way he moved, it was tall for his height, made of these dark and twisted, gnarled roots, at the top is an ostrich egg sized mass of green/orange/brown bloodstone held in the tips of the roots liked a clawed hand and a matching egg was at the bottom, about a third of the size of the top one, but the roots were woven with thorned vines, various other plants and what looked like scraggly hanging tendrils of mosses and other plants. He was dressed in these very wide and long dark evergreen pleated trousers, over cream velvet colored boots with a pointed toe, though no heel or anything, upper body held in a black button-down that had fuller sleeves and looser on the chest with a silvery sash wrapped tightly around his midsection, a thin tailed green vest and a creamy white silk ascot tied around his throat and tucked into the vest, matching white pocket square in the vest pocket, a caplet around his shoulders of the same cream color fastened by a charm of some kind at his throat matching the knot of the ascot and other elements. Auburn hair down his chest in a low tail with a wide brimmed cream colored sun-hat on the back of his head with a bundle of black dahlias on the left over a dark green band around it, black lipstick and dark makeup about his face with a pair of green lens sunglasses low down his nose. “I’m Alphonse, how can I help you?” he asked as he walked up to the counter.
“I’m…Dustin, I was told I needed to make some sort of prescription with an apothecary for…wolfsbane” I said, not really knowing how to go about it, but…this guy was also very attractive.
“Ah, I see.” He said, “One moment” he added before wandering off into the ground floor of the greenhouse, “Normally I’d ask if you were new to town, but that accent hides nothing.” there was something odd about his voice, almost like he needed to clear his throat, his voice was throaty, hoarse and there was a defined vocal fry to it…there was this vague idea of him talking through gargling almost.
“I could say the same for yourself”
He laughed at that, “Well, I’ve been here over a century, so…my own accent has merged with the local one.”
“…century?” I asked, he nodded
“Of course” he added as he came back with a heavy chest and set it on the counter with a rattle of glassware, there was something almost…moist about his footsteps, “Let’s see” he whispered to himself as he opened the top, inside were these small bottles, maybe three-four inches tall, circular with a very extended thin neck, cobalt colored glass filled with an oily textured liquid, the tops dipped in purple wax and a bundle of twine around the top ingrained into the wax keeping a hefty cork in place, each bottle with this large parchment tag with ornate script across it, the handwriting matched that of all the labels across the tables and shelves. “I don’t have many lycan clients, but I do have a few, so I keep extra bottles of this on hand just in case I get a new one.” He explained before rifling through a drawer and took out a piece of paper and handed it to me, it was…a contract of some-kind. My mind instantly went to all the tv shows and stories about demons making people sign some kind of contract in exchange for their soul or something, so I stood there…painfully reading it over and over, he did not seem bothered at all. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been a lycan?” he asked, I sighed as I fluttered my lips.
“What time is it?”
“Three in the afternoon” he said looking over a cuckoo clock on the wall, I muttered to myself for a few seconds as I did the mental math, trying to recall the time when Jamie bit me.
“About twelve hours.”
“…pardon?”
“About twelve hours or so sense I’ve been bitten.”
“Well…you’re definitely responsible then to be getting your contract set up already.”
“I was…bitten by someone who greatly recommended doing this as soon as possible.”
“At least you got that, I didn’t get anything close.” He laughed
“…what?” I asked
“Cursed…I think” he said motioning to himself, “Been 123 years sense I was cursed by…whatever did this to me, it was an accident, so no big bother or anything, plus I like being like this.” He added as he shrugged softly, “Some people also trust me more so because of the fact I am basically dead and all thusly, am safe from pretty much any and all diseases, save for one or two magical conditions.”
“You’re safe from lycanthropy”
“True and likewise for yourself about vampirism, it wasn’t a vampire I think, no blood thirst or anything, but I’ve been exposed to both and neither had any effect on me.” He said, his hands on the counter slid apart a little as he leaned forward a little, a half-smile on his face as he looked at me, his eyes were heavy lidded and gave him this constantly sleepy expression that was…very attractive to me. Suddenly, a phone ringing started filling the air as he looked over, the ringtone was the Imperial March, “Shit, I need to answer that.”
“Go ahead” I said as I looked back to the contract.
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