Luna Books - Tumblr Posts

connortalbot​:

Last night was a disaster. There was no other way to put it. He got drunk, he talked with an ex, and he ran across his pseudo uncle that he hadn’t spoken to since that entire branch of his family had died. Really, it couldn’t have gotten much worse.

Still, work is work and Connor actually loves his job. It isn’t Filthy Fenrir (which frustrates his parents to no end) but it’s something he actually likes. And it stimulates both his English and his Business degree. It’s a win-win for all parties involved. Except for the patrons of his family’s speakeasy who instead have to be amused by Clifford, a man who’s idea of a good time would probably be burning down the entire establishment thanks to a few misplaced fireworks.

He has his glasses on. They aren’t so much a necessity right now as a fashion choice but as a general people tend to trust the book store owner who looks smarter. Plus it helps with all the fine print on the spines he has to put back into place. Normally they would be scattered about with vague organization, but ever since Elias started working here things have seemed a little bit more put together.

It would probably be a little more if Connor didn’t come back from an antique show every week.

He’s putting away a clutter of new books in the fiction section when he notices a woman studying them. Almost all the ones she’s looking at right now have some sort of supernatural vibe to them. None of them are really that accurate but having them out is a good way to keep track of who might just be more Aware in this city than others.

Not that this girl smells human at all. He can’t quite catch the exactness of it, but it’s familiar enough that he is immediately intrigued.

“Can I help you find anything?” Connor asks with a smile. More flies with honey and all that. “If you’re looking for a specific kind of lore in particular I can help you find it.”

The implication is there and if she understands it, if she is Aware or something more, hopefully she’s able to understand him. If not then, well, no harm, no foul.

@noatwithstanding​

Last night was a disaster.  It was the only way to put it.  She got emotional, she lost control of her powers, and she broke down sobbing in front of the woman she eventually had to admit didn’t actually ruin her life.  Honestly, it couldn’t have gone much worse.

She needs to get this under control, but after last night’s little performance, she isn’t willing to show her face around the Chameleon Club again just yet.  Time to follow another lead.

It’s a relief to be in a bookstore, the smell of paper and the cover of high shelves immediately comforting.  Noa isn’t here just to bask in that, though, as much as she would like to just tuck herself into a story and forget her own life for a bit right now.  No, right now, she’s looking for information.  And for someone who can help her find more.

He actually catches her by surprise, lost as she is in the folktale she’d meant to just be skimming, and she jumps at the sudden question.  A weight of light, the bitter of ink, the heat of a heartbeat.  Interesting.  She isn’t sure what to make of that; granted, she isn’t any more sure of what she actually expected of Connor Talbot.  The little she’d heard of him hadn’t painted much of a picture.

She probably should have expected that he’d spot her immediately, though.  A wolf would have a keen nose, and there’s a certain gravity to his question, the way he asks it.  

“Oh, uh,” she adjust the book she’s holding so he can see the cover - Faire Folk of the Fair Isles, “Fae, in particular.”  How to return the implication?  “But it’s all pretty new to me, so I’d be happy to take recommendations.”

Well, okay, she’s always happy to take recommendations, but that should get the point across without being too obvious.  After all, she could have misread him, or there could be another customer in the next aisle, Or she could still just be averse to plainly admitting what she is.  Hell, she could have entirely the wrong man.  “Is this your shop?  It’s very nice - you have an excellent collection.”  

connortalbot​:

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Growing up, the folklore and fairy tale section in a bookstore was Connor’s favorite. It was fascinating for him to learn about what the Unaware thought he was like - thought they all were like. And sometimes, well, if he lost himself in a story where a prince sweeps you off your feet and saves you from being locked in a tower, that wasn’t anyone’s business but his own.

He isn’t sure if it was worse as a kid or worse now. At least he’s an adult and this space is his to create and love and hide in when the worst of it all come  crashing down. When he was younger and didn’t want to stow away at Cam and Ken’s, he would hunker down in between the shelves of the local library or bookstore until someone from the pack found him and drug him back home kicking and screaming.

After Cam and Ken, well, then it was the only place he could hide.

The woman nervously shows him the book and Connor is immediately curious. A book about fairies? It makes him laugh.

“I know quite a bit about that. About them. About a lot of things. I’m a bit of a werewolf expert myself,” he offers her a smile, canines particularly sharp in the dim yellow light in the shop. He prefers it this way though. It’s not as reflective off of his eyes. “Care to define how new? Last I checked the fairies weren’t the changing type. They were the making type.”

Connor hums gently as he picks up one of the books and traces along the spine. It’s a little dusty, which makes him frown. “It is, yeah. Since I got back from college, or maybe a few months after that. So going on seven years. I’ve been collecting since before then though. Too much, if you ask my rather unaware worker. Every time I run off to a new antique fair I think he contemplates resigning and running out of town.” He hopes she gets the hint there. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got tea in my office.”

It’s as good an invitation as he can get to help her out here. There aren’t many customers around, but it’s better to make sure they’re still out of earshot. Supernatural discussions can only be worked in so many ways before people start to wonder what weird game you’re playing.

“You do?”  She can’t help the excitement, the hope and relief that fizzes right to the surface.  It’s not so much a surprise that he knows - that’s why she’d come here, after all - but she truly appreciates that he seems so willing to share that knowledge.  For a moment she’s almost giddy.

And then she remembers the previous night and forces it back down, at least somewhat.  His next question helps.

“Ah,” The chuckle that comes with it is only somewhat bitter.  She eyes his teeth as she thinks how to respond.  There’s something fun about his phrasing; she focuses on that, on returning it, to keep herself from thinking too hard on the words.  “Apparently making and exchanging, so less changing and more,” her voice drops, both as a precaution but also because she could probably still count on one hand the number of times she’s actually brought herself to say the word, “changeling.”

Noa meets his eyes briefly and offers a small smile, before her gaze falls again.  It’s not an easy thing for her to discuss, but there’s no avoiding it.  Not if she wants to get anywhere.  “So about six months new.  Since discovery,” she clarifies, tracing over the title of the book still in her hands.  “Only twenty-seven years since making, though, so...”  She shrugs.  From what she’s picked up so far, that’s still pretty new in terms of fae anyway.

"No such thing,”  An antique book fair sounds fun, but she doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as his other words register.  “Does he now?”  She’s not referring to the resigning and running away.  Maybe they should-

“Tea would be lovely, if it’s not too much of an imposition.”  She would have accepted the invitation however he dressed it, but Noa actually does really like tea.  Even if there’s isn’t any tea, though, she is more than grateful for the chance to speak more privately and, thus, candidly.  It’s not something she’s had much opportunity to do.  No one to blame but herself for that.

She folds her arms to hold the book flat against her chest and watches with anticipation, waiting for him to lead the way.

Noa didn’t have any particular reason to visit the bookstore, this time; it just felt like a good idea, with everything that was happening.  Like she should stay close, for now.  Besides, probably couldn’t hurt to double check with Elias and make sure she had all the various scheduling and dress codes straight in her head.  So shortly after her shift finished, she found herself just outside its doors.

And on a collision course.

It’s one of those habits that comes back when she’s stressed.  She can almost hear her mother’s voice – could you not text and walk, No? – over the sound of her phone clattering to the pavement and the shuffle of her steps adjusting backwards to at least keep herself from following it.

“My fault.  I am so sorry.  Got distracted,” she holds out her hands apologetically, poised to help steady them.  “You alright?  Sorry again.”

Lingering smoke, sour-patch candy, a tenacious grip.  Out of the corner of her eye, Noa can see where her phone landed, but she keeps her gaze on the other woman, now more curious than concerned.  And maybe it’s a strange thing to do, but she’s just got a feeling and that usually counts for something, so with a bit of hesitation and more inquiry than one should put on so plain a statement, she offers:

“I’m Noa?”

@pactbearer​