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"Thanks so much, have a good evening." The little bell rang on the entrance door to the shop and Elara's spirit felt a little lighter. There were only a few people trickling in here and there; back home, her Storeflux would always get a rush of people twenty minutes before close and flood the place, setting back their pre-close routines. However, as the clock moved closer and closer to the appointed holy time, Elara was surprised- elated, even- to find that people seemed to actually pay attention to those sorts of things here? Maybe it was just that this neighborhood understood schedules, or just maybe the end of the world as most knew it had changed some folks for the better. Either way, Elara found herself sighing a sigh of relief for once, and feeling maybe just the tiniest bit happy.




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I mean, she'd busted her ass today. She deserved a bit of contentment, even if she was still reeling from the end of her own life as she knew it, in what felt like just weeks ago due to the whole 'loading in late' crap. Elara very much still hurt from betrayal on so many sides, but at least here, wiping down the bistro sets and clearing ramekins, she felt just a modicum of inner stillness. Not quite peace, closer to catharsis, but something better than complete and utter torment still. Eels noticed another employee at the door beckon her back inside, and as she came in they turned the sign around in that most wonderful motion; from 'Open' to 'Closed'. The shift came over as Elara was re-tidying her hair. "Not done yet. You're on mop while I do count and till, Gopher here is finishing wipe down and cleaning bathroom, then doing dishes. Then you finish trash and bring the chairs in and we're good to go." Gopher nodded and picked at one of their nails a little bit before getting back to work, and Elara nodded and moved to her own duties.



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It was easy enough to find the mop bucket in back and mix the cleaning solution. Eel had had to ask her superior for the right amounts, but otherwise it was just filling it up with some water and getting a new mop head. This was the part Elara didn't mind so much; mopping was always a kind of peaceful task for her. It was finally cooling off, a nice breeze wafting through one of the open patisserie windows and a pleasant smell of some kind coming in from the kitchen. This was the time in the past when Elara would dream big and plan her first novel, Transgression of Mana: A Coffer of Hope. It never got made, her being too busy back then, and by the time she'd moved in with Wendy and found more muse for her writing, the title and the story itself were mostly scrapped. Only a few characters had survived into the first actual print of a readable book. This whole shift had a way of bringing back memories, and as Elara moved chairs, wiped at countertops and drug the mop back and forth in a figure eight, she felt a few tears come to eyes.


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"Damn, almost the whole shift without any of this..." She kept her words to herself but sniffled a little. Eel missed her old life. She missed that little house with it's tiny yard, the stone slabs that were a walkway but never led to anywhere in particular, on account of none of the backyard projects ever really getting started. She'd wanted to visit so many places with Wendy, do so many things, explore New York properly, visit Ireland...



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A small sound escaped her in spite of her best efforts, and she had to wipe at her cheeks with her sleeve but found the nascent coffee dust that coated everything to just irritate things further. She did her best to finish up through tears of sadness-and-dust, and felt a shift in the breeze as well as the soft steps of someone nearby. Eel turned to see Jeannie eyeing her, still with that blank-but-slightly-annoyed stare. "You did good today for a first timer. Gopher already did the trash; help me get the chairs in, then we've got all got a little thing before we go." Elara sniffled and nodded her agreement and finished up the mopping and chairs before moving to the kitchen with the other staff. The cook had four cups set around the prep table on the same ramekins, a light mixture inside each, still steaming. It smelled of rose and honey, and something else Elara couldn't place. Gopher and Menie- the cook- grabbed their cups, with Jeannie handing Eels her own before asking plainly, "milk?" Elara wasn't sure what the question really was, so just shook her head and gave a quiet "no." She was lactose intolerant.



"Good, it's oat. Santé." They all drank from their cups and Elara followed suit, and it was quite a lovely end to a night of adrenaline, pain, and coffee and pastry. Elara took home a pan au chocolat, just to see if Miss Ingrid would like it.

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Peak continued on with a similar level of frustration as that first problem customer. The line was long, Eel was moving back and forth, corralling the customers, taking orders, plating things from the pastry counter. Someone wanted an almond croissant but she'd accidentally grabbed the almond au chocolat, and had to comp the order. She wasn't making a lot of mistakes, but the two that she remembered after those two hours of peak had still earned her a word from the shift-supervisor. Elara wanted to be frustrated, to get mad about literally having no time before being thrown into the busiest part of the day while being expected to work to close, but there wasn't even time to be upset- Eel had too much to do.



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"Cinnamon-sugar powder? Do we have-" she was turning to the nearest coworker for confirmation and they were already nodding. She kept it moving. Elara was figuring out the local shorthand for order writing and was finding it easier and easier to fit her shitty handwriting on the slips and sticking them to the saucers in a timely fashion. It was different from what she was used to, but not impossible to adapt to. She even managed to find a few precious extra seconds in between two customers bickering over one having cut the line in front of the other, and with that time squirreled away that extra croissant into a wrapping of butcher paper and into her apron- she wasn't sure what lunches were like here, or if she would get to take a fifteen.



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"No ma'am, I can't do 200 degrees." Arguing over unsafe working temperatures happened frequently, so thankfully this one she didn't even need confirmation from anyone, it was a no go. A few more people in a rush, an egg sandwich, Extra Runny; the shift went by at a lightning pace, and before Elara knew it, it was noon and someone was tapping her on the shoulder.



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"Break time. Ten minutes. Go." Elara moved away from the counter and into the back for the first time her entire shift. She shuffled toward and slumped into a seat, already feeling drained, and pulled the extra croissant from her apron pocket and ate as quickly as she was comfortable doing. Eels had to stand after a few bites and fill a ceramic cup with water, not because the food was dry but because she realized she was dehydrated, and her body would surely rebel if she went the entire day without so much as a single drink. She washed each bite down with a gulp of water and refilled the cup once, finishing the pastry before the water and drinking the cup in one go. Five more hours left, assuming the close wasn't an all-night affair. She sighed to herself and stretched, preparing for at least another hour of non-stop movement; peak seemed to last a bit longer here than in her old hometown.

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"Mmm, get the clippers." He'd said it without even looking at Eel as she was coming back downstairs with a torso-sized variegated monstera in hand, not that she knew it's name or even variety. 



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Elara had been in a sort of watering daze. She'd figured out what 'hydra'phobic' meant, some of the plants soil having been dry so long that it repelled the liquid like rain on an umbrella, pooling around the base of the pot or just on the ground, depending on the drainage situation of any given plant. To combat this she had started taking them to the sink and gently soaking them, but had to be careful of the water level so as not to wash away any of the more loose soil. There was just so many plants, too, that she found herself making multiple trips up and down the little staircase, ferrying the watering can and the plants themselves as needed, carefully placing everything back where it had come from. The gruff voice interrupted a memory of brunch with Priscilla. Probably merciful, all things considered.



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"Clippers? Where?" Eel was getting used to his pace, now. He seemed a blunt man, but thoughtful still. She set down the plant she was holding in the sink before facing her benefactor for the day. He pointed, glancing at her before returning his gaze to the softly moving curtains of his patio door. There was a toolbox of some kind on a shelf near the door, and making her way over to it she opened and found a multitude of clippers. She picked each one up in turn until accidentally grabbing the pruning shears, to a grunt of approval from the old warrior. "The lemon tree outside, had a branch wasn't doin' too great. Just take it off, should be fine without anything fancy." Elara went outside with the shears and had to turn the sapling around in circles a few times before she noticed the branch in question. It was withered in some way, maybe nibbled on by something. Apparently it wouldn't recover. Elara clipped it without incident and went back inside to finish with the plant by the sink.




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"You might have a green thumb after all." He still wasn't looking at her, gazing in his forlorn way at the window. "S'really just about doin' yer best to care for something. S'all we can do, in truth." Elara considered that for a moment, hands on either side of the countertop, gazing into the soil of the pot before her. What was she meant to do when all the tending and care she could muster wasn't enough? She turned her gaze to the open window, trying to find whatever divine inspiration the fellow had, but it didn't quite click.



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"Course, s'not always that easy." He leaned over to sip at his water with the straw in it, finishing it with that telltale dry noise. Elara had glanced his way, and he met her gaze with his own resolved, steely expression. "But do yer best, arright? S'all we got anymore." Elara found herself frowning a little, but nodded anyways. That was indeed all she 'got' anymore.



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"M'name's Arkin, come by to help out anytime. Promise Ah won't talk so much next time." Elara nodded again. "Sure thing." With that he turned back to looking out the window, and Eel finished up her water work and left.

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The room was quiet, the occasional brush of wind against a set of wooden chimes outside or the call of seabirds being the only sounds besides the water dribbling over leaves or onto soil. A particularly parched aloe pup had been in need of a light submerging, but otherwise all of the plants were doing pretty well. Eel had started inside, getting the few potted plants in the kitchen by the sink first, her benefactor giving a couple of tips before leaving her to it; she got the hang of this fairly quickly. There certainly was something peaceful to tending living things. Elara imagined coming back, day by day, seeing the progress of growth, the gratitude of greenery on full display, flowers blooming and new shoots forming. It was rewarding, and it was calm. A contented sigh escaped her lips, and as she moved onto the vine-like greenery hanging from the alcove abode the stairs, even the work of climbing to water them felt natural, easy.



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Still, that ennui nestled within her caught up, made for a sort of melancholic peace. She felt a few errant tears well up as her thoughts turned to Wendy, and to her life now gone. Is this just where she was now? Being forced into an apocalypse, popping up late into a world of hellish design by some alien entity, with danger abundant and hope scarce… is that what moving on was?



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“Wells, it’s like that for some’n.” Elara was caught off guard, having moved to the balcony to tend there, and realized she’d been staring at one of the saplings, it’s still-small leaves fluttering in a Pacific breeze. “Huh?” She’d looked back to the man, attempting to make eye contact but failing after a couple of seconds and glancing around the room nervously. “Said it’s like that for some’n folk. The plants make ya think. Some time about growin’ em, but some time bout life. Can see it on yer face.” He folded his one hand in his lap and stared into the middle-distance, eyes fixed on some blank point on the wall, nodding to himself slightly. That was the end of his speech, apparently; man had his own life to ponder.



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Eel continued watering, having more than plenty of her own thoughts to get stuck on.

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Elara hadn't been prepared to be approached, and she hadn't been ready for the shriek that had alerted her to the new person's presence as Eel had clattered to the ground. It had been part of the reason she'd taken her defensive stance-huddling against a wall, shivering and cold, so quickly. All these new faces, so much attention. She huffed and sucked air back into her lungs as best she could, eyeing the regal-looking woman before her. The wide brimmed hat and parasol somehow seemed redundant, but Elara wasn't really one for fashion. She appraised the outfit a bit more, her own hands going to her waist to make sure her jacket was still secured there. Thankfully it had stayed during the fall.


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"Bonsoir?" Huh. 'Good evening.' A simple statement, not spectacularly complicated, but one Elara knew for a fact she should not have understood. It took her a moment. Language must be universal in some way here in death, then. That made a kind of sense, even though it really made no sense whatsoever. Even the afterlife was a world of duality. Eel straightened in her sitting position slightly, tensing as someone else made their way to her.



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And even here in death, people were mostly the same. Rude, obnoxious, determined to make every waking moment one of torment in any way possible, even by way of schoolyard-level bullying. Any other day really, and Eel wouldn't have even paid someone like Gleeford any mind. She'd suffered plenty of harassment, some much more innocuous, some far more vitriolic. This would have barely registered even on one of her worst days. But this was the worst day. Elara had no energy left to suffer this kind of indignity. Not from her editor, not from Wendy, and certainly not from a stain of a person like this man. The younger looking one coming up to double up on the abuse, the crony apparently vying for some type of approval, because why else would he mock someone the way he had? They both deserved anything coming from here.



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Elara grit her teeth and clenched her fists, restraining what might have come out as a hiss before standing, still cold and shaking slightly, if not from the temperature then from anger. She was fine that the instigator had turned his back, she could just stare daggers at him. She could... Eel impulsively, instinctually swiped a hand in his direction, not really at him so much as through the air in front of her. She would see it, but it was uncertain whether anyone else would- whether anyone else was really paying attention. A ghastly, fallowed face, gaunt as if from starvation, skin so thin you could see every bit of skull, eye sockets sunken and empty, teeth jagged as if filed and chipped on bone and rock. It leapt out of thin air and bit down on Gleeford, probably causing some kind of sensation but not causing any real damage. Well, unless you count feeling immensely guilty and regretful of your behavior as damage- it could certainly be damaging to an ego.



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She stood there glaring, still shaking from frustration, turning her furious eyes toward Torashiki, as if in warning. A caged animal in this moment, if Elara had had hackles, they'd be raised, if she had fangs, they'd be bared. "I'll give you an apocalypse." She wasn't able to speak the words, her mind not really thinking them so much as willing them. She honestly hadn't even understood that the strange 'attack' had come from her, but Eels' body language probably said enough.

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"Bluuhhhh..." Elara's groan was not the first today, and it probably wouldn't be the last. She stared at the wall of an abandoned beach-front shop, her hair blown in her face by the oceanic breeze. The lonesome writer had spent about an hour scouring the message system, finally re-reading all that stuff about the Earth and her class. It all seemed like nonsense still, but whether she was dead or not didn't really matter, because she hadn't woken up from this dream. It just kept going, from New York and the shenanigans there, all the way here. She was alone for the time being, but it was the easiest way to get a hold of her current reality. After reading about eating "Sin" and such, Eels had spent at least another hour just staring at that aforementioned wall, drifting between dissociation and the absolute dregs of depressive tendency. "So is the Earth possessed or something?" she spoke to nobody in particular. A seagull nearby squawked, not in response, but the timing was strange nonetheless. A beep startled Elara.



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A window hovered in the air in front of her, immaterial in nature but still at the forefront of her vision, like some kind of overly-official hallucination. "Help Wanted, No Experience Needed." For no reason besides curiousity Elara palmed at an indicator reading "Accept", assuming there was of course no obligation or consequence to her actions- she was in purgatory after all. Another window replaced the first, detailing an address and a set of instructions, complete with a little map showing the exact route from Eel's location there. Someone named Gus needed help with plants. "Mmm." Elara wanted to just drop it, a quest she'd neglected to think about and didn't want, but something stuck out in the back of her mind. That time she'd talked about starting a garden in her and Wendy's backyard, growing their own herbs and some vegetables. It was never going to be fully sustainable, but it had seemed like a nice way to spend some time, peaceful even. Maybe that's just what Eel needed now, some peace among all this anguish.



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Elara found herself outside a small town-home, two stories but skinny, with planters hung along the outer patio railing and some assorted potted saplings. Lemons and oranges, by the looks of it. She knocked on the door and flinched a little when it swung open. "Did I break it?..." She'd spoken quietly enough that she herself had barely heard it, but a response came from inside the naturally lit room, startling her further. "No child, come on in. I'd unlocked it." An elderly man in a full set of bandages, one limb short and red from wound. A fellow seemingly back from a battle or something. He caught her appraising eye. "Don't worry, it'll grow back." He waggled an arm and then unfocused from her, leaning over to sip from a cup of water. "Glad you took the job, was afraid nobody would want to water plants, but then there's always someone needing points or what have you." Eel just scanned the room around her, noting the menagerie of green. "I just got here. I mean, I woke up recently. I..." He patiently let her finish her thought, nodding, before realizing she'd gotten lost on the way.



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"Yeah." There was a finality of understanding to his agreement. He looked around the room himself. "Well, should be easy enough. Cans're over there. Just fill 'em up at the tap, then water. Most of these'uns aren't too sensitive. If you see the water start to pool up, s'too much. Some of 'em may be a little hydr'a-phobic." Elara didn't know what that last bit was supposed to mean, but context clues were simple enough. She went to the sink and grabbed the watering can before wordlessly setting to work.

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