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

[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.

[kleptofaeniac]

"Hit me with some baklava, babe."

The endearment slips out before she can stop herself and Kenzi at least has the good sense to look - if only for an instant - like she shouldn't be so familiar. It fades quickly though. If Njoki cared she would say so. Right? Right.

"And I'll have you know I'm the best grandpa."

She wants it if only for the hilarity of it.

[aldabeyoun]

"And I do love kebab." So it all works out well. She holds Kenzi's mug out to her and gestures that there's a sugarbowl if she wants to sweeten it.

"So, you have any luck with it?"

[kleptofaeniac]

"Managed it, yeah."

She plops five sugar cubes into her cup before she continues and stirs it with her finger quickly, even if it is hot. Doesn't matter, it tastes pretty freaking good. Taste-buds, who needs 'em?

"You wanted just one maen, right?"

Specifically a Maen Magls. Easy to make, not a lot of effort - but only if you knew what you were doing and only if you could. These were pretty handy for the people that needed them.

[aldabeyoun]

"Just one'll do me. I'm putting together a hand for a client and they asked for one to go in there." For those not up on Njoki's particular flavour of magical language, a 'hand' is a flannel bag stuffed with charms and oils all centred around a specific purpose. Much like the little fabric bag she's nailed above her doorway.

[kleptofaeniac]

"A hand?"

Kenzi would be one of those unfamiliar with Njoki's practices and colloquialisms. Though Russian witches might not call hands that, she is familiar with the concept of these bags. From her look though, she's picturing an actual hand.