Man About Town [Open]

[jointheclub]

A. Wandsworth

Tucked away down an unassuming little street, an innocent dilapidated building sat as it always had, and probably always would, as far as mortal eyes were concerned. They would never see the sign over the door, which itself looked as if it had seen better days: an S crossed with two bars. Spells sat on this sign and this building, an illusion that shielded it from mundane view and revealed itself to the supernatural.

This, then, was the Apothecarium of Horace E. F. Slughorn, now open for business.

Inside, the portly old witch puttered about a dozen or so cauldrons, humming quietly to himself as he added a pinch of this or a dash of that. While a younger and less-experienced brewer would hew closely to a written recipe, carefully measuring out each ingredient and confirming each step twice before proceeding, Slughorn had long passed that step. Like any skill, potionmaking became more instinctive with practice. Just as a skilled driver did not need to consciously think about stepping on the accelerator, or a skilled marksman did not need to consciously order his muscles to squeeze a trigger, so too did Slughorn not need a recipe or a cup to tell him when seven pinches of basil or six counterclockwise stirs would suffice.

So curious colors and fantastic smells filled the air, all different but never quite in painful opposition, as Slughorn prepared the first of his stock for his new business.

Now Open.

B. A Well-Earned Rest.

Evening found Slughorn quite comfortable enshrined in a comfortable corner of a tavern, a pint on the table by his side and fingers digging through a tin of crystallized pineapple for the finest pieces. Not an unusual sight, unless one were other than human. The same spells that protected his sign also protected the chair he had casually smuggled in earlier in the day. The ordinary patrons, the bartender, the passers-by all saw it as just another wooden affair that seemed lucky it could bear the witch's weight -- never suspecting the true form that keener eyes could see, a comfortable armchair well-suited for a man of his age and girth.

Part of Slughorn's good cheer, then, came from getting one over on the mundanes. But to those who could see the truth, well, it was hard to ask for a more incongruous sight.

Comments

[jointheclub]

"I have quite a few things available, and more I can make. Just started the old business, you know, and some things take their time. And ingredients are always troublesome here, you know, but I do as I can." He waved a hand airily, as if such things were of no consequence. Now he had the perfect excuse if he didn't wish to provide the potion, if it were something terrible or wicked or for foul purposes.

[entitles]

"Well, you see..." he said meekly, looking both ways before he spoke again as if he were worried about being watched, "I was wondering if you had any, um. Blackcake, or Canway's fine, too. I, uh, don't want to be empty-handed in case I make some new friends."

He didn't look Slughorn in the eyes as he spoke, and scratched the back of his head in a nervous fashion. While he was a bit embarrassed to be asking for, essentially, drugs, it was a good way to see if Slughorn was willing to flirt with the dark arts without having to ask for something capable of murder and raise suspicions around the entire magical community. Besides, he could pass well enough as a rich boy looking for some thrills.

[jointheclub]

"Blackcake." Slughorn sniffed derisively as he drummed his fingers on the mug he still clutched in his pudgy hands. "Potion-maker's dream, that stuff. One or two tastes and you have a customer for as long as you're willing to make it. Or as long as they last. Seen many a promising witch fall out that way, though -- the money isn't worth it."

A century and change of life meant for many memories, and for a moment the old witch's eyes lost their focus as a few drifted past. He shook himself out of it. "Now Canway, that's a bit more of a delight, isn't it? Mellowing, if you need it. That's far more to my taste."

[entitles]

"Yes, yes, of course," he said with a wave of his hand, "I know that not everyone's as good at, uh, moderation as I am and it's a risky business. Canway will do well enough."

He pauses for a moment, "How restricted is it here, anyways? Blackcake, I mean, and Voxo too, I suppose, although I wouldn't touch that stuff. In Greece we were pretty relaxed but I know some circles are stricter than others and I'd hate to get in trouble just for recreation."

Of course things were less restricted in Greece when he was there, it was centuries ago, but pretending to be a recent immigrant had served him well before.

[jointheclub]

"Relaxed? Not that I even know what goes into the stuff," Slughorn lied a bit too fervently for credibility, "but anyplace that considers making those things 'relaxed' must be dreadful. Why, next you'll tell me that fae-binding was a merry Saturday night, with necromancy for Sunday brunch. Of course with that many people dipping into Voxo the necromancy might be necessary for anyone to show up the next week..." Slughorn trailed off as he mused on that thought, one hand pulling absently at his chin.

[entitles]

"Not a fan of the dark arts, then?" Balem said, his shaky and nervous demeanor having suddenly turned to a rather discomforting calm.

With a wave of his hand the illusion was gone, no longer was he a young magically-inclined fellow in a suit, but a fae lord in flowing black robes and gold jewelry with eyes older than even what most humans would refer to as ancient.

"A shame. Magic of that sort can be quite useful," he said, tapping the moon-shaped gem in his collar with one long fingernail, "Do you align yourself with the Redbright woman? Answer me honestly, I'm not here to do you harm regardless."

[jointheclub]

If he was expecting Slughorn to gape or stare, then he would be disappointed. He'd had to deal with fae long enough that their little stunts didn't really impress him. At the moment, all he saw was that this entire conversation had been, from his perspective, quite the waste.

"Is that what this is all about? Merlin's beard, you could have just asked from the beginning." Sighing, the old witch leaned back against a support post, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "Yes, I'm Daybreak. Don't touch dark arts, don't dabble in them, don't sell them, don't tolerate them. Comprehensive enough for you?"

[entitles]

Balem couldn't help but be irritated at the fact that fae seemed to be considered somewhat akin to pests (or tools, to the less morally inclined) where witches were concerned. He remembered fondly a time when magic among humans was much rarer than it was now and fae were nearly deified.

"And I suppose you're not one to be tempted, either?" Balem said, knowing that that particular tactic usually worked best on the young and naive, "The Lord of Stars can grant much prosperity."

The Lord of Stars was also notoriously ruthless when it came time to collect payment, so much so that his true name was often blotted out or torn away in the few old magical texts in which it was written.

[jointheclub]

Ah, don't take it personally. That quirk was a Slughorn bias, not a witch one, in this case.

Slughorn waved a hand in idle dismissal. "Really now. I'm sure you've lost all perspective on mortal fragility and stuff, but I'm far too old and tired to go prancing about the other realms in the lands of the eternally pretty. I'd be a laughingstock. Or set on fire as an eyesore. Or depress the entire court by explaining the concepts of rheumatism, gout, sciatica, varicose veins, shall I go on?"

Of course, to what degree Slughorn truly suffered from any of these ailments was a fairly open guess -- because whatever he might have, he certainly must hide very well. The witch could simply see the hook in the bait. After all, even setting aside his history and experience, he did much the same, albeit in a harmless and actually beneficial fashion.

"Now trading like businessmen, that's reasonable." He tapped the side of a bubbling cauldron. "You have needs, I have needs, we keep it professional, we both benefit. No dark magic and you don't go using it against the Circle or the Institute, of course, but that still leaves plenty of options for you." He tried to sound like he was bargaining from a position of strength.. but he really wanted the fae to accept the deal. Business relationships were a much better protection from mischief or hostility than tense balances of power, after all. No sense trading solely on Sylvia's protection if he could ensure better.

[entitles]

"I'm afraid I have no business with you if my terms aren't agreeable," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "Your terms are exactly what I'm against. You humans think you can restrict us - I remember a time when a single one of us could have wiped your species off the face of the Earth! But, we did not. We have long been merciful, and our mercy has been repaid with shackles. No, no more."

He was angry now; his eyes glowed brightly and the room began to feel warmer.

"No dark magic?" he hissed, "All of my magic is dark! I've been called 'demon' throughout history. I will take my leave now, but consider your allies carefully, potion-maker. I'm not certain they know who they've crossed."