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The rain poured ceaselessly as you made your way to the house on the farther outskirts of Mistria. It was old, built well over a century ago, and amidst the rolling hills and the lush forests, its uniquely vintage look made it stand out. The deep green tiles of the roof, you remembered Ryis had told them with a sort of enthusiasm you rarely saw from the typically so calm carpenter, had beautiful engravings done, of all sorts of topics.
The facade consisted of largely wood, partially left its natural color, and partially a more muted, low-key shade of green to match the verdant jade of its tiles. The uppermost window, a large, round piece of stained glass leading to the attic space, gave it almost the feel of a church. It was both inviting and imposing, evoking the sort of mystery and intrigue only old buildings such as this could.
As you reached the front porch, finally taking respite from the rain, you slipped off the raincoat they had unceremoniously slung over their arms, trying to shake the excess water from it. Just as you did, the front door opened, and you were greeted by the town’s resident eccentric artiste —
“Moira. Pleasure seeing you again.” A smile stretched across your face, eyes squinting into thin slits as the grin took over your face.
You could hear them chuckle, a sound trapped somewhere between a huff and a laugh, before they rolled themselves to the side to let you through. Inviting yourself in and stepping out of your kind of already soaked boots, Moira watched with middling amusement.
“My, what wonderful weather you have brought me today, Daffodil.” Your nickname, given personally by Moira to you. “There I thought you wouldn't come. …I appreciate it.”
She began to make her way down the hallway into the living space. It'd been converted to fit their needs in some places — Ryis’ and March’s handiwork were becoming easier to spot as you had watched them work on various project in town, as well as the road leading to this house — or so you’d been told.
The earthquake had damaged the road pretty badly, so much so that it had been impossible for the ambulatory wheelchair user to regularly make their way into town. Only once, during Tuesdays, would they hitch a ride on Balor’s wagon to run errands, using their cane to take a stroll and visit the museum.
“Are you just going to stand there or actually come in?” Her words startled you awake, and you quickly followed behind. She lead you to the living room, generously decorated with vintage furniture, walls plastered with paintings of various people. They all sort of resembled Moira, you noticed. Some of them shared her nose, some her down turned eyes, some that soft, charmingly unique smile she wears.
She stood up to settle into the pillowy sofa. Hardly any of the sofa’s surface was still visible, instead drowning under a mountain of throw pillows and blankets with varying patterns and textures. You decide on the armchair not too far off. She smiles, a bit wonky at the edges. You had noticed it back when you first met her, too. It's nice, you thought.
The host blinked, before slapping her upper thighs in realization. “I put on tea! Wait just a moment.”
With some effort, she hoisted herself back upright. You hold back your desire to help her out. You knew that there were times with her that you could offer your aid and she would accept… and times she would not. You've been getting better about that.
They sighed with effort as they milled about the kitchen, but they eventually brought a moderately sized metal tray with two cups, a tea pot, and a small plate of cookies and set it down on the mahogany coffee table. It was admittedly a little cramped, but you could respect her ability to make it all fit. She poured both of you a cup of tea. Its fragrance softly wafted over to you, over the scent of drying herbs coming from the window sill. “So, you read the book, right? What did you think?”
“Right,” you nod, pulling out the book that had been thankfully spared the rain. You had taken great lengths to ensure that it would arrive at its original owner safe and sound. “Honestly, in the beginning, I couldn't really understand why the protagonist acted the way he did.”
Moira nodded wisely and took a sip from their cup. You continued, “But as his love for his childhood friend and butler blossomed, I found myself really invested.”
So invested in fact, that you had read well into the night, and before you'd realized, it was already 2 AM. You had dreamed of the story that night. The woman chuckled at your admission. “Exactly. I think back when I first read the book, I didn't sleep a wink! I finished the whole thing in one night.”
You nodded in delight, leaned forward and continued your review. Your cup was still on the coffee table, slowly cooling, but you didn’t even notice.
“And when it was revealed that the butler was actually a spy from a rival family? I was- by the grace of the Dragon, I was beside myself! I really felt for the protag. The final confrontation as he has to battle his first love and greatest betrayal~ it was heartwrenching!”
Moira’s grin grew; Even with a cup being tipped forward in front of her lips, her satisfaction in having roped another person into her hobby shone past it brightly. You noted, in your head, that there was hardly anything left of the aloof and quiet Moira you had met - while she, in her own words, still considered herself more of a listener than a talker, they had definitely come out of their shell since you’d managed to fix the road to town.
You’d seen the artist grow more comfortable about interacting with the others, especially with Elsie and the members of the archaeological society as they spent time at the museum. Of course, they already were somewhat comfortable with Balor, as he was one of the few people who had regular contact with her after the earthquake, being one of the few even capable of reaching the house, albeit using a laborious detour. Now, as March and especially Ryis had helped restore the house and rework its interior, even they had gotten closer to the solitary resident.
You chatted with Moira about the book for a while more, until the sky had grown dark. It’s only when you, by chance, took a peek out of the window while you were still engrossed in conversation that it dawned on you that you should probably be making your way back home quickly.
“Snap, I didn’t even notice!” Moira exclaimed, and pushed herself off the couch once more to grab another book from one of the nearby packed bookshelves. They handed you the book, and you took it and safely stashed it away in your bag. It wasn’t raining anymore, but it couldn’t hurt to be careful, after all.
“The book is sort of a sequel. It plays in the same continuity as the first, but the cast is largely different. It does mention the events of the first and even what came afte- Oh! I probably shouldn’t say too much, hehe.” She sheepishly scratched the back of her neck, leaning against the nearby furniture to maintain her poor balance. For a brief moment, a wistful expression washed over her eyes, though she shook the feeling away as quickly as it came. “You should best get going, Daffodil. Before it gets too late, no?”
“Yeah, I should. But I’ll keep you updated about the book.”
She accompanied you to the front door, where you put on your rain coat and your boots again. “And I’ll come over for another cup of tea when I finish it. How does that sound?” Moira watched you for a moment, but soon smiled sweetly.
“I would like that.”