fandomtownies | The Magic Box, Tuesday

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The Magic Box, Tuesday

Norman came in and opened up the magic shop today, completely unprepared for the influx of customers making it nearly impossible to get any work done at all. What were they looking for?

Love spells or potions, charms to make them more attractive to the object of their affections. One gentleman simply came in looking for a cure for male pattern baldness, and Norman wound up having a good chat with him about how he was welcome to try the solutions they had at the shop, but anybody worth dating wasn't going to let something like that change how they saw him.

... Norman hadn't been expecting the grateful hug from the poor guy, no. The man left empty-handed, but apparently with a new lease on life, leaving Norman free to get back to explaining the ethical issues behind magical love potions to the majority of his customers today while the cerberus puppy sat at his feet, eyeing anybody who thought they might get rude with three pairs of glowing red eyes.

The Magic Box is open! And no, Norman won't sell you any love spells.

[OOC: Open!]

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It was an almost absurdly nice day out, so Mae was wandering ~~over~~ through town after class. She'd passed the Magic Box plenty of times before, but this was the first time she'd seen it look at all busy.

Clearly it needed to be investigated.

"Huh," she said, as she wandered around. "Spooooooky."

Norman glanced up from the counter, where he was keeping a hawklike watch on a few customers who had decided, if he wasn't going to point them to love potions, they'd get the ingredients they needed to make their own. Deciding they weren't going to have much luck if they kept looking over by the quartz wants, he glanced over at Mae.

"... Is it?"

Spooky? He hadn't noticed.

"Yeah?" Mae said. She wasn't sure why this was a question. "It's all . . . witchy and shit. Hey, do you have daggers?"

She could have an actual witch dagger!

Norman blinked and glanced at the stock in the shop.

"Like... ceremonial ones?"

It was totally possible that such a thing existed. It was also totally possible that he was mildly dubious about the motives of someone who referred to the place as 'witchy and shit.'

". . . Sure."

She was totally trustworthy, Norman! Just look at those giant creepy eyes!

Norman stared at her for a few seconds. The cerberus pup looked around the counter to stare at her too, with all three heads.

"... You just want the pretty knife, don't you?"

Mae was going to say "it doesn't have to be pretty" (just look at her, Norman, 'pretty' was clearly not an aesthetic priority for her), but she was distracted immediately by the puppy.

"Oh my god you have a mutant dog."

Norman looked at the puppy, and then back at the girl with the cat head.

"I think he's a demon dog, actually."

That made that totally way more normal, sure.

"Oh, well, a demon dog." Mae continued to stare, fascinated, at the three headed dog. "That makes all the difference."

There were rumors about multi-headed animals around Possum Springs back when Mae was little, and the factories were in full swing. Mae wished for the umpteenth time that she had a phone, so she could take a picture of this puppy and send it to everyone she knew back home.

Gregg would lose his mind.

"He's actually pretty friendly if you want to pet him," Norman offered. "I mean, he's been here for months and hasn't attacked any customers or anything."

They? Three he's? Norman still hadn't figured that one out.

Mae's ragged ear twitched. "Dogs don't always like me." For some strange, mysterious reason.

"So do you, like . . . use any of this stuff?"

Were you a magician, Norman?!

"Not really," Norman replied with a shrug. "I was learning some stuff, but nothing that really required any spell components or anything. Not yet, anyway. The books, though? Some of those are actually about legitimate magic."

Baby magician. Baby necromancer, really. And barely even that.

". . . Legitimate magic."

Mae, you were looking at a three headed dog.

"... I mean... yeah," Norman replied, blinking. And the skeptical girl with a cat head. "People were four inches tall like a week ago, it can't be that weird."

"People were what?"

Mae had slept through that weekend.

In fairness, Norman had stayed in his room reading comics that weekend.

... And then had been turned tiny when next he came into work.

"Smaller than usual," he volunteered. And then, using the trick Bob had taught him, traced a finger in the air, leaving a small trail of green-glowing light behind it. About four inches of it, in fact. "About that tall."

Because sometimes you had to do these things.

"Oh my god, you're a wizard!" Mae was extremely impressed by that trick. "On an unrelated note, how were they not all eaten by the local wildlife?!"

The gremlins should have feasted.

Norman gave a little hum and made a so-so gesture at that wizard comment, but let it slide.

Baby wizard. Seer with potential. He didn't know much more than shiny lights and a simple 'hey, come here' compulsion spell to be used with ghosts. Anything else came out of a book. Or was stumbled across accidentally when someone else used the book and didn't clean up after themselves.

"Most people around here are fighter types," he offered. "I guess. And I'm pretty sure the squirrels are too smart to try."

You could work magic, Norman. You were a wizard. Give up.

"Squirrels aren't really hunters," Mae pointed out. "You all know there are more animals around here than squirrels, right?"

"Sure," Norman agreed with a little shrug. "But not many of them are in people's bedrooms, right?"

... Ideally?

"There are literally green bitey things living in the vents."

"Yeah, but they're more about mischief than actual harm," Norman replied, shrugging. "I don't think they'd actually eat people. Nibble on them a little, maybe..."

At least, he hoped they wouldn't actually eat people.

"So it made me think I was a Scottish duck just to fuck with me," Mae said. ". . . Respect."

"A... Scottish duck?"

The tiny wizard and his three-headed puppy were both tilting their cumulative four heads at you, Mae.

"Oh no, you got a bite, huh?"

"In fairness, Vette and I were talking about keeping it as a pet."

Mae would probably bite someone trying to do that to her, too.

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