“We all have to deal with shit like that.” Jamie said as he, Andrea and I were sitting at a high top table at a bar in Baton Vyolèt, “Honestly, I’m glad you were able to easily drop that job and a magical restaurant would be far better for you too…magical restaurants basically give a default week off for lycans.”
“I was hoping for that” I sighed, “Either of you know any places looking for someone?”
“Not off the top of my head, I’m a lawyer” Jamie said
“And I’m a florist, so I’m not sure I could really help” Andrea sighed, “I’m sorry”
“It’s fine, I’ll find somewhere.”
“You good financially?” Jamie asked
“Yeah, my rent is not that bad and while the pay was not too good, it was enough that I’ve got a month or two of rent stocked up, so…all good.”
“Luckily, with Baton Vyolèt being as huge as it is, there are always new places popping up and literally any kind of cuisine you could possibly want to work with you could find a place. If you really want the best possible job in food in the magical world…you need to get a job at one of Warlord Vesta’s places.” Jamie added with a shrug
“I know” I sighed, “That is like…a pie in the sky idea for anyone in food, working for her, not even Michelin star ranked places are dull compared to what goes down in her places. Does she even have on in Baton Vyolèt?” I asked
“No, the closest would probably be over in Florida, she’s got one or two in Orlando, but just spit-balling” He laughed
“Most likely, why would someone like her open a place here?” I asked, “She’s got places in like every capital city of every country and state of the US, she’s got what…four in Vegas alone?”
“She’s got at least a half-dozen more in the magical city there too” Andrea added, “But don’t worry…maybe go down into Dockyard District, all sorts of old mills, warehouses and place are being turned into restaurants. They are dime a dozen nowadays, there’s got to be one in there that’s looking for a strapping, young and I’m hoping, good cook.”
“That’s for the strapping part” I laughed quietly, “I mean, I am twenty four though” the two glanced at each other before quietly laughing to each other about the fact that the two were without a doubt, at least a decade or so older than me. So, I am young compared to them, but I do not feel all too young compared to the people around me, mainly because of the fact that I’m still not spending weekends getting blasted off my ass and partying and not really doing anything to make myself more stable in my life, at least compared to the people I went to culinary school with.
After that quick drink, I hoped on the trolley that went south-east for a few stops before I hopped off as the map on the interior of the cabin said that was the Dockyard District, all of the endless townhouses and large buildings with big open courtyards fell away to slightly more apart buildings spotted with those styled, more warehouses, old mills and much, much older styled buildings across various other forms and styles about the district, but it was more open, the streets a touch wider and the lights, while still bright, a little bit further spaced so it gave you a slower, calmer vibe…but the sound of water was present. The canals more thickly set and the weave of them more condensed. I walked out to the edge of the district that overlooked the coast of the Mississippi, at least…I think it’s still the Mississippi in Baton Vyolèt. The docks were heavy stone masonry in a pale ivory/cream stone, random docks and piers branching out as all sorts of boats or other water fairing vessels were set, or the stray water living person crawled out onto one of the docks and shook themselves off of water as they shifted to a more land focused appearance before walking off into the district or walking down it and diving into the water to vanish under the constantly shifting surface.
I walked down one of the long docks as I sat on the edge, pulling the legs of my jeans up and setting my work boots and socks to my side over my folded up chef’s coat as I let my feet hang into the water, just up to my ankles with where the dock was set. The sunset out at the horizon ahead of me and another section of Baton Vyolèt across the river visible from where I was as this map of colorful lights, a few bridges spanning across it at the far edges to my right and left similar to the Crescent City Connection.
I wasn’t looking for anywhere at the moment, just…enjoying the peace, the sound of the water, the distant honks of foghorns or other boat horns, the feeling of the cool water on my very sore feet or the connection I felt to the water because of the full moon being in two days, so…tomorrow I will be…very not myself.
“Eh, mon cher…don’t go that way!” A triton guy on a small sailing vessel called out to a mermaid woman going southward in the river, “That’s where the hag lives.”
“Hag?” she asked
“Well, it’s jus’ be what we call ‘im. That witchy guy, the potion maker wit da big greenhouse shop over in the French Three-Quarters, for ‘bout a mile or so, da house-boat he ‘as causes the swamp ‘round ‘im to be…dangerous.” He said, “If the water starts turning too green…you be way too close.”
“Thanks for the head’s up!” the mermaid woman called out as she still went south, but strayed further away from this coast as the triton guy went back to wrapping up all of the ropes on his vessel.
“Alphonse?” I asked quietly, “He lives over here?” I asked, the area of Baton Vyolèt his shop is in is affectionally called the French ¾ sense the nonmagical city is the French Quarter, he’s not the only potion shop in the quarter, but his is the only one that is solely a greenhouse and he is definitely treated like how that guy’s tone insinuated. I wasn’t going to bother him or anything, it’s just…nice to know where he is in case I may need him or something goes wrong when he’s not in his shop.
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