undergrounds | Street where the riches of ages are sold (OPEN)

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Street where the riches of ages are sold (OPEN)

A: Barnet

Kenzi and Jennifer weren't friends by any stretch of the word. Acquaintances was a closer definition but even then, they didn't run in the same circles. The only reason she even knew Jennifer was the girl found dead in Barnet was she might... be following police intel. For a friend.

It was weird for her to be doing something that wasn't outright for her own self interest but it was shockingly helpful. After all, once she heard the description of the Jane Doe it was only a matter of time before her research and connections (however small they might be) told her one thing.

Jennifer - a Circle Midnight witch - was dead, killed by someone invested in the Redbright takeover in Barnet. Kenzi hoped that nobody from Circle Daybreak, The Night Council, or any vampires would go where Jennifer lived and take things. She didn't think they'd be that stupid - or that smart.

So Kenzi went in the morning, when everyone was headed to work and acted as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Confidence would get you access to more things than fake badges. But she had one of those too just in case.

It would be a tough sell, though. Considering she was wearing stiletto leather boots that went all the way up to her thighs, and had green threaded through her very black hair. Not a cop, by any stretch.

But that didn't stop her from breaking the seal of tape and touching her little wooden key-chain to the door. There was the tell-tale click of locks being undone, by the sound of how many there were - it seemed like Jennifer either had something pretty valuable inside or was super paranoid.

Well, she did get murdered after all. Maybe she wasn't so paranoid.

Kenzi spends a good portion of her time frame that she allowed herself roaming around the apartment and stuffing things she wants into her backpack. Hey, Jennifer wasn't going to be using them anymore. Might as well make sure they stayed out of Redbright's hands in the meantime. A few books for magic, almost all her jewelry and her little black contact book that had all the phone numbers a witch could ask for.

Maybe there was something important in there?

Kenzi is leaving the apartment with her backpack filled to the brim and going straight for her car.

B: Portobello Road - Friday

It was a cheap gimmick, and something that usually only got the stupid people and tourists interested - but that was what she wanted. It was easy to fleece someone who was too busy listening to what she was saying about how fascinating their life line was to notice her lifting their watch or hand jewelry. And it didn't hurt that she asked for 16 quid before even speaking to them.

"Ladies and gentlemen, don't be shy. Come, see what the future has in store for you and your loved ones!"

She had a little stall on the market road, something her cousin had hooked her up with. It was all decked out in exactly what you would expect from a Russian fortune teller, except she was about fifty years too young to make it especially hokey.

Kenzi was dressed like a hippy. Not a scrap of black on her, and her make-up was done so as to look as natural and flower-child-y as possible. To top it off, she was wearing an ashy blonde wig with some stuff woven into the hair.

She might also be selling knockoff charms to normal people. They're in the approximation of the real charms that she makes, but they're completely useless. Still, a witch or someone who knows her work might recognize them.

C: Late Night Munchies

There was a plus to living in London. There was always something open and ready to serve you greasy, disgusting food. Which was exactly what Kenzi wanted late at night after working in her shop all day long. She might just be making Day and Moonlight Jewelry and other little charms and sundry items that she sells to people who want them, but she is only one witch. And that means constantly flexing her magical muscles for a whole day makes her exhausted, and starving too.

She's sitting inside a little pizza place, whose front of house is so small they only have room for a counter to order at and chairs along the walls and front windows to sit at while you wait for your food.

Kenzi is dicking around on her phone when suddenly, her nose starts to bleed. Yet another lovely side affect of not having a coven.

D: W-W-WILDCARD!!

Make your own up if you feel up to it!

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Stiles eats the reading up. Mouth hanging open, he inches closer and closer to the table as she speaks, drawn in despite his reservations. Naturally, he interprets the reading to mean that a future with Lydia Martin (romantic, of course) is far from impossible. His cheeks heat up a bit at the word lover, though he doesn’t avert his gaze even for a second. It all makes sense to him—especially the part about his own bullshit. With no small measure of guilt, he recalls the time he’d reluctantly left Lydia sobbing alone in her car. His promise to return and comfort her had gone unfulfilled, but he doesn’t blame himself for that.

“Wait. I’m not gonna see her for months!” Floundering, he struggles to think of something else for Kenzi to read for him; this is addicting. “If you want that pizza, we should do another one. Y’know, one we can test sooner.”

Kenzi arches an eyebrow in silent questioning at doing another reading for him. But still, she can't deny how fun it is to do readings. Even if she isn't that great at it. Almost all of her technique (what little there is) is stolen straight from her aunt.

Normally she'd close up shop and demand money from someone who was obviously hooked but as it is, all she knows she might get out of this is a pizza. One for which she's actually pretty hungry.

"Better be a large pizza," she grumbles, and starts shuffling again.

"So," she sighs dramatically. "What do you wanna know now?"

“A large with all the toppings you want,” he promises, eager to hear more about what the cards have to say. “And I don’t know. What can we do that’ll have quick results? I need to make sure you’re legit.”

Kenzi smiles eagerly, satisfied by the promise of pizza and she sets the deck in front of him for Stiles to cut after they decide what to do.

"If you want to really know if I'm legit then maybe we should do something that asks questions about your past or an already established relationship I don't know about."

Surely he had to have a best friend or something he could ask about.

Except, for Stiles, the word relationship holds a romantic connotation. So he awkwardly averts his eyes, embarrassed by the fact he's not only a virgin at seventeen, but he's also never dated anyone. The past it is, then.

"Okay, so how does that work? Like, do I ask you to guess what grades I got on my last report card or something and the cards tell you?"

He's totally clueless.

Stiles you're such a dork. Kenzi doesn't know what he's thinking but by the shift of his eyes, she can take a guess. The question about his grades however has her curious. Could she actually do that? Probably not. She could barely get a hook in for questions about love and money.

Still, she couldn't let him know that the reason she didn't want to do that was because she didn't think it'd work.

"How about something I can't find out through Google?"

And that inspires an idea.

"How about my name?"

Ha. Let's see her pull this one off. Good luck, Kenzi.

"If you can tell me my full real name, I'll get you that pizza right now."

"There's no spread for a name." Genius, she privately thinks.

Kenzi doesn't know if that's even true, but like hell she's going to try that one.

"How about you think about a specific thing that happened when you were in the States, ask a question relating to it and we'll see how that goes?"

Foiled. Sulky, he sinks in his seat and scowls at the cards. It takes him a moment to come up with another idea.

"Since we're both running with a particular crowd," he begins carefully, tone flat, "things tend to get messy fast. Tell me about the first death I experienced."

The trick is—his mother's death had nothing to do with the supernatural.

Wow, grim much. Still, Kenzi isn't going to say anything because: pizza. It's the best thing that's ever happened to her. Pizza is always there for her.

"Ooookay," she allows slowly as she deals the cards out. It's a simple horseshoe shape, with about seven cards. Only one less than last time but still. A bit easier.

She turns over the cards one by one in silence. The last card in the horseshoe makes her think she's got this in the bag: The Death Card.

Kenzi keeps her smile to herself and begins going through the spread.

The first card depicts a small family. A mother, a father and a son all gathered beneath an awning with four points. The Four of Wands.

"Before your first experience - everything was really good. At least from your perspective. This is a card of family and happiness."

'Nough said. She moves on. The next card is reversed; a woman in a classic Egyptian looking lectica.

As this is Kenzi's favorite card - for completely superficial reasons - she'll read the meaning accurately (although it'll be tailored to the reading)

"The death itself was not violent externally and, to you, happened rapidly. Too quickly."

Yeah, this isn't her favorite spread ever - note to self: don't entertain dumb boys.

"There was a hidden influence.... a man of wealth or of some note to you and yours. I don't really know what that means,"

After all this is a past reading. She'll leave him to the interpretation. The next card is the magician, although it is reversed.

"You wanted to do something to change things, but at the same time didn't like what you were thinking. Probably wanting to disappear and run away."

Kenzi don't project.

"Everyone around you wanted you to be patient and not act on impulse."

"After it happened, you put in a lot of effort to make sure you healed. Or at least, made sure everyone thought you had."

And finally, they arrive at Death. Before she started the reading, Kenzi was going to use this one to close the deal. But now she just feels bad, and not for the first time, hates that she actually still has some empathy left in her tiny little body.

Seeing as it's Death reversed, she reads it as is. It's probably accurate no matter what. He isn't that old and it couldn't have been too recent a death - but still one that hit him hard if the careful measured way he asked was any indication.

"Afterwards you were depressed, making things more difficult for yourself by refusing to move on and ...yadda yadda yadda."

She spits out the last part eagerly, and crosses her arms over her chest.

"There - satisfied?"

Give me my pizza.

And once more, Stiles is drawn irresistibly into the story unraveled in the reading. Back and forth, his eyes dart between the spread and Kenzi. Even though this is an experience he hardly needs a third party to tell him about, there’s a tiny part of him hoping. For what, he doesn’t know. Maybe insight that doesn’t exist. Maybe possibilities that don’t either. Regardless, as the reading continues, the careful neutrality of his expression grows more and more frozen. Clearly, she’s hit the mark. The mention of a hidden influence seems to confuse him, however. Sitting back heavily in his seat, he mulls over what that could mean. There was no man of wealth…that he’s aware of. But one of note to him and his? His father…? Stiles doesn’t like the implication of that thought, and hurriedly dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

When she finishes, he exhales slowly. Well, that was a total mood killer.

“Sure,” he agrees wearily, shrugging. “Do they deliver around here, or do you wanna take a break and hit up a restaurant?”

Kenzi is honestly tempted to apologize. Which is weird. For her.

Then she reminds herself that Stiles asked for it - literally - and that he's a teenage boy. He'll be fine. At least that's what she tells herself to keep what guilt she has left in her body at bay.

"Break sounds good. And I could use a walk. Split the toppings with me?"

It's as close to an apology as she'll get today.

Pseudo-apology accepted. Expression relaxing, he nods before standing, eyes anywhere but the spread still face-up on the table. Once he slips out of the booth, Stiles makes a show of stretching casually.

“Sorry!” he tells the few people waiting in line. “Ken… Uh, Madame…Czigany—seriously?—is going on a lunch break! Come back later.”

Kenzi collects her cards and runes and stuffs them in her oversized bag. Everything else can stay - she doesn't care if people try to loot it, if they do there'll be some nice locating charms ready to lead her right to them.

But nobody had the balls to do that to an empty stall on a busy market road anyways.

Kenzi pops out the back of the booth wig-free and sporting some more inconspicuous garb than her love child clothing. She skirts around to the front where Stiles is and watches the line disperse with a hint of reluctance. That's probably fifty pounds down the drain.

Which she could make in about an hours time doing anything else. This booth was just....more fun.

"Kay, let's go."

Stiles almost does a double-take when she reappears. Even though the “Madame Czigany” clearly was Kenzi, it’s still weird to see her without the wig on now. The darker hair suits her better, though he doesn’t tell her as much. After all, he’s not sure how to feel about her yet—their first and last meeting went about as well as Scott’s PSATs. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walks alongside her silently. She’ll undoubtedly notice him sneaking glances at her. Constantly. He’s not very surreptitious.

Kenzi isn't planning on making friends with this kid any time soon. But it doesn't mean she's going to be outright rude to him 24/7. That would be exhausting.

She's walking them towards the nearest pizza place - and it being Portobello, it'll be within a block or two. Kenzi lets him keep doing his totally discreet glances for a few more seconds before...

"What's on your mind, bucko?"

Sorry, Stiles. She's much more fond of nicknames than any name you mind want to be called.

Nicknames don’t necessarily faze Stiles, given that he has a penchant for them himself. But the one Kenzi chooses seems so…old, like is she secretly in her thirties or something? He knows better than to comment on it, so Stiles ultimately decides to roll with it.

“Who, me?” There’s no one else, Stiles. “Oh, I was just admiring…your hair. It’s very stylish. Very chic. Do you use volumizing conditioner? What’re your trade secrets?”

Kenzi is half-tempted to respond genuinely. She likes talking shop when it comes to beauty secrets, but she has the sneaking suspicion that teenage boys don't actually care about hair care regimens.

She wants to prattle on about it just to annoy him, but she's more interested in figuring out what he's thinking.

"Ha. Ha. Seriously, what?"

Stiles isn’t about to bring up what’s really on his mind, so he simply regards her with a blank, clueless look that would fool approximately no one. In the hopes that she’ll drop the subject, he shoves his hands in his pockets and continues walking alongside her in silence.

Kenzi snorts in a truly unattractive fashion at his impression of a mime. She wasn't going to press what was probably going to be a really dumb question anyways.

"Fine, be that way."

At that, they're standing in front of the pizza joint - and Kenzi opens the door for him, hanging off of the handle like she'll fall if she doesn't.

"After you." She's so tempted to call you her sugar daddy, Stiles. But she thinks better of it.

Thank god. Please spare him that embarrassment.

Ridiculously relived that they have arrived, Stiles ducks inside and makes a beeline for the front. Even though it was part of a deal, he's famished. After all, the only reason Stiles had even waited in line for her booth was because he'd thought it was food. Silly him.

"I'm not paying for your drink," he warns, opening up his wallet and mourning the pathetic amount of money there.

Kenzi follows after Stiles and watches the menu for a few seconds before deciding on her old standby. She fixes the kid with a loot when he tells her he won't buy her drink - stingy.

"How will I ever live. Pepperoni, extra cheese."

After following up her lifeless deadpan with her order, Kenzi orders two water cups for them both. She'll fill them with soda when she finds them a seat - in the spirit of being cheap.

"I'll find us a seat."

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Street where the riches of ages are sold (OPEN)

OMG IT'S GREAT THO

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