Every act creates a ripple with no logical end. | OPEN.

[aldabeyoun]

It's a little odd to work out of her livingroom, but in Njoki's experience it's a good idea to have regular clinic hours set up for those that aren't comfortable with house calls. Most of what she does during these times is a bit of basic consulting, the occasional spot of under the table first aid, and listening to people talk through their own worries. It's never very busy, but this is her calling, not her job. Some of her friends and family have been helpful and discretely passed out her contact information and she knows that a little pocket money is a fine thing, but she doesn't believe she'll ever make a living off it.

As she fills and puts the kettle on, she huffs in amusement. At least it's a good excuse to make sure her flat is scrubbed and clean enough for company once a week.

Comments

[stauncherhearted]

There was a problem. A small one, but it was becoming larger by the minute. For the past few days, Nancy's apartment had become crawling with all manner of bugs. Summer, alright, she didn't live in the best part of town. But this was bloody December, and there shouldn't be bugs around her apartment. Juliet, her cat, absolutely loved having things to chase and try to eat, but Nancy? Could do without bugs trying to get into her tea.

Which was precisely why, after some research on her own, she found herself nocking on Njoki's door.

"Hullo? Njoki? It's Nancy- are you in?"

[aldabeyoun]

"Door's open. Come on in." The kettle was just whistling, so she quickly pulled it off the burner before heading into the main room.

It's not a large space, but neat enough and furnished with plain pieces. A few bookcases lined with a wide and sometimes curious assortment of novels and books - personal interest, school textbooks, biology, and so forth. It's clear she's a magpie when it comes to what she wants to have handy. There's a low coffeetable and beside that a toolbox.

[stauncherhearted]

"Thank goodness." She pushed open the door as she took off her coat, shutting the door behind her.

"First things first, thank you very much for having me, and I'm absolutely sorry about what's about to happen." To prove a point, a few bugs squirmed under the door. "I've been cursed, and getting a fumigator into my building didn't do squat."

She sighs and drops her coat and purse to the couch.

[aldabeyoun]

"...oh."

That is not good. Not good at all. Njoki reaches for a white candle in a tall, blue glass jar and lights it, setting it down on the coffee table before she takes a seat herself.

"You know who did it or why? Or are we starting from scratch?"

[stauncherhearted]

No, it's the opposite of good.

Unless you are a cat and enjoying making friends before eating them.

"Starting from scratch." Much to her chagrin. "This is the second time in the last six months I've been cursed by unknown sources." And it was awful, absolutely awful. So to prove her point, she rummages in her bag for her flask. She doesn't drink though, she offers it to Njoki first.

Though, come to think of it. "Maybe Norrell." No. "Or his manservant, Childermass." The high priest of Daybreak.

[aldabeyoun]

Njoki can't help but chuff in annoyance at the bugs, but she'll be professional about it. She tugs her toolbox over and opens it to reveal an assortment of plastic and glass bottles, velvet bags, bits and bobs of string or razors. After a moment of thought, she selects a clear glass spice bottle and a grease pencil. A quick scribble on the side to contain any magic and she's ready to nab one. "I'm not too bad with vermin. Lemme catch a couple and see if I can get a feel off them."

"How do you feel about rats?"

[stauncherhearted]

"I'll pay for an exterminator," she promises, and the look on her face proves she means it. "Or leave and come back as need-be. They don't seem to stay after I'm gone, from what I've been able to figure out."

Rats? Nancy blinks, nonplussed. "I'm fine with 'em." There had often been rats living with her at Fagin's.

[reticence]

Faolan doesn't exactly know what he's doing, coming to a place like this. To a witch, for healing. He could be going to a hospital, and probably should -- the cut on his arm is large enough to need stitches, he knows. But hospitals make him uncomfortable. Hospitals remind him of a time of his life best left forgotten. And without someone like Lancelot accompanying him there, forcing him to sit and wait and keeping him company, preoccupied, he's not entirely sure that he can do it. Is going to see a witch doctor all that much better of an idea? A witch doctor that he knows to be in Circle Midnight? Not in the least. Is he standing on her step with his hand poised just above the bell? Of course he is.

Steeling himself to push that one final step, Faolan raises his good arm once more, and presses the button. Hoping that this is not about to be a case of coming out of the frying pan an into the flame, as they say...

[aldabeyoun]

Shortly after he rings the bell, Njoki opens the door and blinks in surprise for a moment. He looks familiar, but she can't quite place him out of context. Either way, he's come for help and so with a nod, she steps back and out of the way. "C'mon in."

"What's the trouble?"

[reticence]

Faolan truthfully doesn't want to be here. But he'd sooner be here than in hospital any day of the week. Even if he doesn't know this woman or what sort of tricks she has up her sleeves exactly. He's hoping he'll find out before he doesn't have any other choice in the matter. It always pays to have a good escape strategy, and he doesn't want to regret this decision, however much he needs the attention of some sort of healer.

He glances up at Njoki herself, than in at the flat beyond. Not taking another step inside just yet, obviously wary of the whole thing. "You're... A healer?" he asks, glancing back at her again, shifting uneasily. "That's what they said." He tries to hold himself straight, tries not to let on exactly what is wrong with him, but beneath the sleeve of his jacket, clear across his bicep, there's a pretty nasty gash that's only got temporary patching on it. And it hurts.

[aldabeyoun]

Njoki herself is tall and broad through the shoulders. 'Casual, but neat' describes her clothing and flat - nothing exceptional or extravagant, but practical.

"Depends on what's the trouble, but I can manage most of it. If you want me to have a look come in, get your shoes off, and we can sit in the kitchen." Healing tends to be messier than the usual chat and consult she does. If there's going to be blood, she wants to be over tile.

[reticence]

Faolan nods, giving the area a wary once-over again before he allows himself to be led inside. Rather than bending to unlace them, he toes his boots off, pushing them off to the side and out of the way with his foot. Perhaps it is noticeable, to the trained eye, that his right arm is held tight against his side and he hasn't bent to try and use either of them yet. Certainly not the right.

He isn't going to be presumptuous to lead her into her own kitchen. He'll wait to be led there himself. Standing awkwardly in the entryway, fidgeting slightly as he waits for what's next, he blurts out, "I don't have a lot of money. Whatever your fee, if it's high, you might as well tell me now and I'll be off and out of your hair."

[aldabeyoun]

As they walk through her place, she gestures towards the kitchen table and chairs before picking up a first-aid kit. Inside, it's mostly typical supplies like bandages, gauze, and tape, but there are a few oddities. Tucked into place alongside antibiotics, there are little vials of powdered and coloured chalk, dried herbs, a variety of threads in different colours.

"Dunno what you've heard, but I won't turn anyone away. If you can pay, that's great; if not, I'll live. Buy me a coffee sometime?"

[kleptofaeniac]

It had taken close to three days to finally get what Njoki requested but Kenzi would go to lengths to ensure a new client remembered she would get them what they needed come hell or high water. Kenzi was, for once, glad she specialized in charms and amulets - all that good stuff. It made her sort of indispensable to people who worked in other areas (and mostly everyone did).

She had the charm wrapped in some brown paper and tucked it under her arm to knock on Njoki's door.

Kenzi would wait to be let in, or at least told she could come in. New client and all that.

[aldabeyoun]

From somewhere inside the little flat, a voice calls out and the accent makes it pretty clear that it's Njoki's. "Door's open!"

The room itself is small and neat, with bookshelves lining some of the walls, good places to sit, and nothing that really marks it out as the home of anyone particularly supernatural. It's just a flat. Sure, there might be a couple of odds and ends that another practitioner might recognize - saint's candles, blue glass bottles, a little fabric bag pinned above the doorway - but nothing exceptional.

[kleptofaeniac]

She's honestly surprised by how normal it all is. She was expecting something less... well, pleasant looking. Evidence of active magic, sick people hanging around like locust. Kenzi was especially not expecting someone so young. The little old blind lady in her head vanishes and is replaced with a much younger person. She'll have to change her approach.

Kenzi closes the door behind her and sort of peeks around for her fresh customer.

"Hey there? Njoki?"

She could be wrong!

[aldabeyoun]

Njoki peers around the kitchen doorway and into the little sitting room to wave hello. She might be tall and broad, but her voice is soft and she's got a toothy if harmless sort of smile. "Sorry, I was just getting the kettle off the stove. Did you want tea?"

"I've got a few kinds. I had someone pay me with a sampler and I'm trying to work my way through them." The so-called 'banoffee tea' was utterly repellant, but the rest have been good so far.

[kleptofaeniac]

Where Njoki is tall - and kind of imposing if Kenzi is being honest - Kenzi is short and slight like a toothpick. Njoki's voice may be soft but she knows plenty of people who use how they sound and look to their advantage - including herself.

Still. She won't let intimidation play a factor in business.

"Sure, love a cup."

She isn't that big on tea, not really. But it's cold outside and her customer offered...who is she to refuse?

[aldabeyoun]

There's a clink and rattle of dishware and after a moment, Njoki makes her way out into the sitting room holding two mugs of tea: one reads 'World's Best Grandpa' and the other is for a kebab shop with the slogan 'The Taste Some Peoples Can't Live Without'.

"You can pick between 'cocomint mystery' or 'baklava party'," she says with a shrug. They both smell fine, but she's not too sure how good they'll taste.

[acrookedchild]

How exactly the card came to her, Abigail won't say. After all, not every witch who answers to her wants to be known. Midnight is still greatly scattered. While many will offer her support as the High Priestess, they're still waiting to see how things play out in the larger scheme of things before coming forward with their loyalties. But, either way, the card has been passed to Abigail.

Which has led her to this place.

She knocks on the door. For all she knows, it's someone peddling so-called magic who isn't actually a witch. Or it could be a staunch Daybreak supporter who will slam the door in her face the moment she's seen. Either way, she's there to find out what's going on here. She knocks on the door and waits.

[aldabeyoun]

"Coming!" Njoki's voice is light and sweet with a strong West African francophone accent. It's at odds with her appearance - tall, broad shouldered, and far more traditionally masculine than most women.

After opening the door, she looks Abigail over and tries to place her without much luck. She's still very new to the city and hasn't really had much of a chance to feel out the local political landscape. "Hi, how can I help you?"

[acrookedchild]

"I'm sorry to disturb you." Abigail's voice is light, all proper London accented. High society and not at all bothered by it. She stands tall, but her frame is thin. Still, she smiles a little as she produces the woman's card. "I found this and was curious as to what it is you sell."

And what, precisely, you are. But that doesn't need to be said. Not right now. Witch, fae, metahuman, human... What matters most right now is assessing who she is and what she's capable of doing.

[aldabeyoun]

"It's no trouble. C'mon in and let's chat," she says walking back into her apartment and leaving room for Abigail to enter if she'd like. "Do you want anything to drink? I just put the kettle on and there's plenty of water."

At the very least, human or otherwise, she's got good manners.

[acrookedchild]

"I'm Abigail," she says politely as she comes in. After all, introductions are in order. Even informal ones now. "Thank you. A cup of tea would be lovely."

It's a relief, certainly, that this conversation can, at least, start civilly.

[aldabeyoun]

"Good to meet you, Abigail. Like you saw on the card, I'm Njoki, but if it gives you trouble, just Ki is fine." She knows that not everyone is comfortable with an 'nj' sound and it's easier to hear it shortened than mangled.

"And, well, I do a bit of conjure. Nothing flashy, but I know enough to do what I do and recommend people on to others if it's not to my talents." Or interest. Or in line with her morals.