On this crisp January morning, Azrael was making his way on foot to the (relatively) new flower shop that had opened up in Upper East Side. He was relieved, now, that this business was far closer to his graveyard than the shop he used to frequent. Even a watcher's legs get tired, after all. He'd been walking for several blocks when he happened upon a flier, advertising the same flower shop to which he was headed. "The Garden of the Sun: Where the flowers are always blooming!" it read. Something about the connotation of it jarred Azrael, but he pressed on even so.
Soon though, the wind picked up, and dark clouds rolled in abruptly. A thunder started to sound in the distance, and a light drizzle began to fall from the sky. Azrael mumbled curses under his breath as he picked up his pace towards the shop, which by now, was closer than his abode. As he crested the last turn, he saw the flower shop across the street. Through many glass windows, he saw a garden of Eden, a paradise of foliage and hues, beckoning passerby with it's allure. He crossed the street hurriedly, and as his shined black shoes touched the curb, a car drove through a nearby puddle, drenching him in his suit. Now irritable, he entered the shop. The door bell jingled cheerfully as he entered, and though entering made him feel peaceful, it also put him on edge, in a way he couldn't put his finger on. He felt.... watched.
He dismissed the thought and began to walk deeper into the miniature jungle that was this flower shop. It held far more than flowers; exotic plants, shrubs, bonzai trees, and even saplings. He would bring a lot of business to this shop, beautifying his graveyard. As he approached an overgrown, yet very well groomed counter of vines and flowers, a young woman appeared from somewhere in the shop he hadn't seen. As she approached, he gave her a warm smile, knowing right away, she was not human.
Even with the slight drizzle of rain the shop was well lit in a way that simulated sunlight very well that was only added to by the many windows that normally let in the suns rays. A slight, unnoticeable shudder went through each of the plants as the door of the shop opened and set off the bell that alerted the owner of customers. Momoka didn't need such an item herself. The plants did more than enough to let her know when someone came in or out of her humble little shop. It was entirely to keep up the facade of normality, even if she was anything but. And if the continuing complaints issued by her plants was any indication this man was no human himself. Or if he was, he was certainly an... active one. He smelled of more death than most graveyards and the fact of it made her wary. All the same she couldn't ignore a customer that had come by in weather like this.
She moved carefully amongst her plants to the front counter to eye the man in the wet suit that had entered. She idly hoped he hadn't ruined it in the rain as she returned the smile with her own ever present one. Some people found her always at least slightly smiling face rather disconcerting, but that was one of the reasons she enjoyed it. The emotions it caused were absolutely delicious after all. She spoke up as she made a broad gesture to indicate the shop.
"Welcome to The Garden of The Sun, where the flowers are always blooming. How can I help you? Flowers for a significant other maybe?"
"Hello, my name is Azrael, and I own the graveyard and morgue a few blocks from here. I like to keep the place very peaceful and inviting in appearance, and your shop is much closer, not to mention far more beautiful. I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself, as I can see I'll likely be a regular customer."
Azrael spun in a slow, full-circle, taking in as much of the shop as he could. It no doubt had many hours of loving care poured into it. More than any one person could muster, seemingly. There's more to this shop keeper that meets the eye. But what, exactly? He pondered the possibilities and struck them out one by one. 'She's certainly not human. I can tell that without doubt. She's not a watcher either, or he'd know her prior. A ghost, or demon? Not like any I have ever encountered. And if anyone knows about the dead and the gloaming, it's me. She felt too innately magical to be a were-creature, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. Perhaps a fae? But why flowers? She's not a deity. Or not one close to her old power. Should I ask? No, I'll wait, and work it out.'
"Do you mind if I look around? I could use some flowers to line the front arches to my graveyard. Maybe some red, and gold?"
Azrael meandered around the shop a little longer before coming back to the counter with a beautifully wrapped bundle of assorted flowers, centered around and accenting a single, large primrose.
"I'll take these for now. How much do I owe you? Oh, I'm quite sorry, I forgot my manners and neglected to ask you about yourself. Please."
He made a slightly submissive gesture, waving his hand as if to pass control of the conversation to the young woman. He listened eagerly as he searched his inner jacket pocket for his wallet.
Owning and working at a graveyard would certainly explain the scent of lingering death on this man, but it wouldn't be enough to explain away how thick it was. Her plants just didn't enjoy it one bit. Still he was speaking and complimenting her shop so she might as well be polite about it all. "I welcome you to my shop then Azrael. It is good to hear that people are taking an effort to keep beauty in their lives. Not many still desire flowers to adorn their homes or decorate their workplaces anymore. It really is quite depressing."
Her smile kept on, if slightly lessened to match her words, as the man looked about the shop. He was asking to look about like he wasn't doing so already, or maybe he thought she would try to stop a customer from browsing her wares? While these flowers were just as much her children as the others she kept, these were made to be handled and sold to Wakers and Sleepers alike. "Please go ahead and look about. We have quite the selection as you can see, and surely we have something that can fit your requirements. Maybe I can suggest a few Daylilies or maybe a Graham Thomas Rose? We also have Sunflowers if you are interested. Those should give a lovely yellow to your picks."
She watched patiently as he wandered amongst the flowers and picked through them. He was making some good choices for his only deciding descriptions being 'Red and Gold'. She even saw him organizing the flowers as he pulled them out just to allow his largest pick, one of her specially bred Primroses, to stand out more fully. She was a tad surprised he actually knew what he was doing when it came to arrangement. "you have made some excellent choices. If you want some longer term flowers to maybe grow up the arches I can suggest some flowering vines as well."
She tallied up the cost after carefully looking the flowers over and checking to make sure they would last for a good amount of time before giving in to no longer being in her prolonging care. She gave Azrael the price and introduced herself with a slightly widened smile. "My name is Iris Summers, owner and operator of this fine flower shop. A pleasure to meet you and to have a customer that will be returning for future purchases."
The flowers were still watching him. The ones he had chosen had even shuddered a bit in relief when he put them down. He definitely wasn't just some grave keeper with that kind of reaction. She was tempted to ask, or at least try to help her flowers a bit. She had done all she could do while checking them over though. A bit of reinforcement here, a few special seeds there. It would really have to do for now. Of course if those seeds she slipped in took it should give her a bit more insight into her mysterious customer.
"Yes, yes. I know a little about decorative planning. I've had to learn. Being in the business of the dead can be quite dark. People who are mourning don't want to think that their loved ones are going to be forgotten is some dreary, gray place. Which is why it is so important to me to make the place colorful. Cheerful, even. I'm glad to see that it shouldn't be hard to approach this goal, with such a selection, and a shop as fine as this to help."
As Azrael watched her carefully examine the bundle, she looked almost worried. Over the years, he'd developed a fairly sharp eye, picking up on subtle body language, and expression changes. But it was too minute for him to say for certain. He was probably just paranoid from the feeling of being examined. When she'd finished and given him the price, she resumed her prior demeanor. And though her smile was somewhat unsettling, he took it as genuine. He pulled the wallet from his inner jacket pocket, and withdrew the bills, handing them to her.
"Iris Summers? Well, pleased to meet you, Ms. Summers. I will be back in every now and again, so, don't get tired of me too quickly. Until next time, auf wiedersehen."
Azrael chuckled lightly, smiling inwardly. As he picked up the the bouquet he'd purchased and began to turn away, he made certain to inconspicuously watch her face out of the corner of his eye, searching for a hint of emotion besides her smile. Continuing through the shop, he walked silently between the flowers and plants, listening for any noise whatsoever. Finally, before he got to the door, he gently brushed a particularly large sunflower with his hand while passing, listening more intently than ever. After which, he exited the shop, the bell tinkling behind him, as he stepped out into the stony grey street, still filled with puddles. He mumbled to himself as he departed towards home.
Momoka nodded along as the man spoke. It would be good for business to have some skill in lightening the mood of a graveyard to attract more families that wish to find a burial site. "A businesslike way of thinking. I thank you for the compliment and promise of future patronage though." She collected the bills handed to her and carefully secreted them away into the register before wrapping the flowers chosen into a more easily carried bouquet.
Her eyes twinkled slightly as he turned away with the purchased flowers and moved towards the exit. She was honestly happy to see him leave, but her smile would never show it, and her plants were happy to see him gone as well. It would take hours to get rid of the stench of death. Many of the plants gave small shudders of relief once the door opened to admit fresher air, but the sunflower that had been touched simply stiffened ever so slightly in a rustling of leaves.
The sound attracted the eyes of the owner, or maybe it was the screech from the plant that had done it, but either way for the slightest moment her face had distorted into an expression of undefined rage and evil. It was gone just as quickly as it had come as she resolved to replace the plant with another at her earliest convenience. She would have to prepare her plants for his next visit...
Azrael had a few things to ponder on his walk home. He looked at the bouquet he was carrying and cycled through his mind everything he'd seen and felt in the girl's shop. What did he know? 'She's not human, nor demon, nor watcher or god. Ghosts are out of the question. Vampire, maybe? No, her shop was far to open to sunlight. And moonlight... Were creatures were also out of the question. She could be a faerie, perhaps. It would explain her features. But I can't be certain without facts. Faeries can't lie... Hmmm...'
He thought back to everything that was said. The only thing he could imagine worth lying about would be her name. Iris Summers. But it wouldn't technically be a lie, if she had legal I.D. stating such. 'Until I see significant evidence suggesting otherwise, I'll just have to assume she's a faerie, then. But is she Seelie or Unseelie alligned?...'
Azrael would need to do more snooping. As he walked he acknowledged squirrels skittering away. This may seem normal to most people, but Azrael knew it was different, in his case. Dogs, birds, and even larger animals knew by instinct what he was, and what he brought, and to steer clear of him. A small curse, but a non issue in his mind. He turned the last corner, onto the block his graveyard filled. As he strode on the city sidewalk, he looked around, still feeling very watched. He peered down at the bouquet he carried once more.
"Ahaaaaa, my little friends. Could it be you, that is watching me so intently? It can't be so. You are but flowers. Hmmm..."
Despite his inference, he decided he would bring them inside anyway. He turned off the sidewalk which immediately met with the cobblestone path to his business doors. He passed under the wrought iron archway, which crossed over two brick pillars that were slowly being overgrown with some vine or another. The cobblestone under his feet clicked lightly as his heels landed, in a steady, relaxed pace. He reached the door, and put the flowers behind his back, as if to surprise someone with them as a gift. Once safely out of view, he pulled out a single, old fashioned key from his hidden sleeve pocket, and even though it looked physically, dimensionally impossible for the key to fit, it had no trouble sliding into the lock, and turning, adjusting the tumblers and releasing the mechanism that held the door closed.
He stepped inside the building, onto the dark oak, polished hard-wood floor, closing the door gingerly behind him. Once the key was tucked away once more, he revealed the flowers from hiding.
"Welcome, to my death shop, little ones. What do you think?"
He felt deranged for speaking to these flowers that surely had no way of perceiving his words, but being alone for so long will do that to you. He crossed the room, his heels knocking on the wooden floor, producing an eery echo throughout the darkened room. He flicked on a light switch, and set the bouquet down in the middle of the clear, glass table he used as a desk. It was immaculate, but for a small stack of papers and a pen in the bottom right corner. He walked out of the room, and hurried back with a medium-sized, ornately carved crystal vase filled with water. He removed the flowers from their wrapping, and placed them into the water, watching it displace several millimeters.
"There. That looks simply lovely, I think. I hope they don't wilt too swiftly... What is this?"
Azrael bent over, closely examining the glass table. He picked up several small, dark-colored objects from the glass table. 'Seeds? But what for?... I don't think I like the game you're playing with me, "Ms. Summers." But I can play too, if you like.'
Azrael carried the seeds through the door on the left, behind his desk into a brightly lit, white-tiled room. There were a few rolling metal tables in the room. The walls were undecorated, and stark white as well, and along the right wall, was a line of metal doors, about waist height. Each door was about 2 feet high and wide, with rivets on the front, steel bar handles on the right hand sides, and hinges on the left hand sides. Each door, had a small window slit in the center, and had a small dial located above them. He went to the first door, and opened it up. Inside was a metal table about seven feet long. He slid the table out and placed the seeds near the end of it closest to the door, before sliding it back into place, closing the door, and sealing it too. He looked through the slit at the seeds, as his hand found the dial, turning it all the way, and watched as the small chamber ignited with brilliant flames.
"Can never be too careful, I like to tell people. Never."
After several minutes, he turned the dial back off, and opened the door. He swept the tiny pile of ashes up with a hand broom and dustpan, carrying it back out of the room with him after closing the oven again. He carried the dustpan past his desk to a small trash can located near the edge of the room in plain sight of the desk, and very animatedly, dumped the tiny pile of ashes into the waste bin, almost tauntingly, looking at the flowers and mimicking the the shopkeeper's smile the whole time.
"I don't like tricks. Now you know."
Azrael said this with a tone of finality, before turning the light off, and heading out the other door to the right behind his desk. He passed through another room, completely dark, but he didn't bother to turn on the light, he knew where he was going. He reached out, and grabbed the handle of a door. He unlocked it, and exited the building, closing the door behind him. In the main room of the building, the door was heard as it closed with a hollow, booming thud. But even jarring was the sound of the lock's tumblers setting into place, magnified and echoing in the room with the flowers, as if in a horror movie.
1052 words? Christ mate, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, it just, sort of, happened!
The plants didn't like this man, and their creator knew it. She also knew she could do nothing for them now that they were out of her hands and being carried off into the distance by the man who reeked of death. All she could do was wish them luck and replace the poor sunflower that had been molested by that horrid man on his way out.
A small sigh broke through her ever smiling face as she lifted the flower by the pot to take it into the back. It hurt her inside that she had to reduce this poor flower into base components for others, especially since the flower knew what would happen. All the same it was quite necessary. Maybe she could even find out what it was that he had done to horrify her plants so deeply? Building up a strain of plants with a resistance to it may be a fruitful path to travel down...
Her plants were fairing little better in the arms of the man covered in a feeling of death. They required a conscious effort to keep from shuddering in pain, and were screeching their displeasure to all those that could hear. Momoka pitied them and the fact that no one could hear them to rescue them from their plight. All the better really. Anyone hearing them would probably think themselves mad or simply call the police. That would surely go downhill extremely quickly.
Even still the flowers were in a state of pure terror and pain from this man. They did their best to keep their senses cast around so Momoka could stay in the loop for any knowledge that could be gained. The place he had taken them was obvious enough, but being behind his back when he opened the door confused them. What was to be gained or lost by them being in the open? They could not 'see' in the sense that most saw the word, not yet. They could, however, roughly sense their surroundings in a way reminiscent oh simply knowing what was alive and what was not. Momoka's interaction with them was the only thing that could provide them with a way to 'hear' what was being said in a way that was understandable and it significantly enhanced their senses when she was actively assisting.
The plants shuddered in relief when they were finally free of the mans hands and in the relative safety of the vase. It was nice to finally be away from the pure feeling of death and pain that man gave off, but they knew they had lost the cargo their master had instilled within them. They knew what would happen, and shuddered once more when it did. The taunting look of the man speaking was lost on them though. They had no eyes to see it with, but their master was listening and could nearly hear his facial expression from his tone.
Momoka's smile warped into a vicious scowl as she felt the seeds die. What that man had done was murder to her, pure and simple, and he would pay for it. The seeds were not malevolent, yet he had destroyed them all the same, while putting her precious plants through so much agony. "They will be avenged. I'll be a bit more prepared for the next round 'Azrael'."
The lights in the back room she had placed the sunflower shut off in tandem with the ones Azrael had shut off in his own work place. Her eyes stood out brightly even in the darkness as she gathered another plant to take the removed sunflower's place in the shop proper. Once she was back in the lit area of the shop it looked as if her expression had never changed, but the plants knew. They could feel it. They could feel everything.
It had been a week since Azrael had gone to the young girl's flower shop. He hovered in the air above the flower shop, mortal eyes oblivious to his presence completely, invisible to the senses, and even instinct, as birds flew by without notice, and cats sat along the fences by the homes. Inntangible. And though it had been a week, and any plant he had ever tended would have been black with death by now, the flowers he'd purchased were still doing rather well. It's not that he attempted to kill vegetation, but he always did give off an air of death persay... He knew it wasn't exactly coincidental, but he also had no real control over it. He hoped though, that that would soon change.
He had been so intrigued by this shopkeeper though, that he had spent much of the last week observing her from afar. He was a watcher, after all, and he could easily observe without being noticed or sensed. And in his observations, he learned a few things. This girl was undoubtedly a faerie, and had quite a soft spot for plants. She spent a lot of her time tending them in her shop, holding them, tenderly babying them. These plants grew at exponential rates. The vines in her shop would often lay in different sprawling patterns than they had previously. There were flowers in there that didn't even naturally exist. To any ordinary person, these thing were small, inconspicuous details. But Azrael was as perceptive as they come.
"She has some control over the plants. Maybe not total, but it was there. She had some shared sense with these plants. An empathy for them. She could feel what they felt. This would explain a lot. Perhaps even see with them somehow. And be these true, even so she would be rather unremarkable. It's not like she's the first faerie I've met, nor manipulator. Why is she so damned intriguing to me though?!"
He grunted his dissatisfaction at this question he had yet to answer. There had to be more. Something he hadn't learned yet. He wanted to learn. He wasn't making any progress watching as he was. He had to learn personally, he decided. 'But how to go about it?'
He pondered for a moment, observing the shop just a bit longer, before turning around and heading home, floating at a casual pace. Tomorrow he would confront her.
The next morning, Azrael walked the now familiar route to her shop, glistening as always in the sunlight. As he opened the front door, the bell rung, acknowledging his presence. Though, he knew it wasn't the only thing aware of him being there. He approached the counter, and waited for the young girl to appear, like he knew she would.
HIDDEN in plain sight is a modern-day supernatural noir game set in New York City and sprawling the rest of America. Magic is real, and so are angels, ghosts, gods, vampires, and witches. It doesn't matter if you believe in them, because they're coming for you either way.
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