2019-09-24 - Tea With Cream, Two Sugars And Dark Foreboding

It's morning - the shop isn't normally open this early, but for some reason it is today. The open sign at least hangs in the door - a wood-burned sign with a cheerful fairy etched into the corner of it. Caoimhe is brewing tea, humming an Irish lullaby to herself as she does, moving from place to place in the shop and making sure to tidy and set up for the day to come. "It's going to be a good day," she announces to no one in particular.

After hearing very good things about Caoimhe's visit to his mother and having a rare day off after all the, you know, murders that are going on? Andy decides to stop by to offer the herbalist a proper thank you and maybe catch up on his tarot readings. Things keep getting weirder, and who knows, maybe the cards have a clue after all. Having the day off also explains his very regrettable outfit. A tan t-shirt with what appears to be spaghetti-o drenched nachos on the front and the words BIG DAWG DON'T HOLD NO GRUDGES and the 'words' WUF! WUF! on the back, together with a pair of cargo shorts that just scream 'daddy has given up and will be eating meals at 7-11 from now on'. Also, crocs. Crocs, but the holes look like little Mickey Mouse shapes. It's quite the combination. "Good morning," he announces cheerily upon entering the store, and he looks like he means it.

Caoimhe looks over as the door opens and smiles - of course she does, she has a business to run here. And the smile freezes, as bafflement takes over her face as she takes in his clothing. Perhaps there are questions she wants to ask, like - 'have you given up entirely' Or maybe 'is there an eighth grader missing his wardrobe' but it's the shoes she comments on first. "Do you like Disneyland then?" Such an odd way to open a conversation, but that smile widens slightly as she adds, with that lovely Irish lilt to her voice, "I had a wonderful morning visit with your mother, Sergeant. A delightful woman, sure an' she is. Would you like a cup of tea?" A big gray cat saunters in - Manx, by the lack of tail and a mangled ear, and it favors Andy with a baleful stare. Maybe the cat is just the fashion police come to express an opinion.

"My mom drove us down the coast one year. We were going to a sort of culture revival festival for the Esselin and Ohlone people in Big Sur, with art and such, though both tribes have been gone since the Spanish showed up. Anyway, since we were in California I convinced her we should go to Disneyland and she agreed without realizing that Big Sur is a looong way from Anaheim. But when I was eight I was apparently very adorable and eventually got my way. It remains one of the best experiences of my life. We did every dumb ride ten times each and went home stuffed to the gills and carrying a big pile of souvenirs. We went out looking for a native experience and ended up having what's pretty much a consummate American experience." Andy looks down at his feet and shuffles his feet. "Admittedly that doesn't excuse the crocs, but my shoes got soaked in the storm over the weekend." Then he looks at his shirt and adds, only moderately defensively, "It's also laundry day." Nothing explains away the shorts. At least they aren't jorts. He makes his way over to the counter, "Mom gave me a call. She was very impressed, which, as a middle school teacher, she rarely is. And yes, I'd love some tea."

Caoimhe tilts her head as she listens, a warm smile on her face as he tells her the childhood story. "What a charming story. I can see her doing that. Your mum's lovely, and the bond between the two of you strong and true. I'm glad to see you each making the most of it and appreciating the gift you've been given." She moves then to the tea, as it finishes steeping. "Today's a jasmine blend, with just a hint of apple. Do you take it with cream or sugar? And would you like a biscuit to go with it?" She chuckles. "It's rarely too early for biscuits, after all." Her hand moves across the cups by the teapot. Most of them are fine china, delicate and lovely. The one she picks up is not. Old and faded, there's still just enough of the image on it to see the lines of a fairy-tale castle - and on the back side of the mug is a pair of mouse ears. She pauses then, mug in hand, to wait for his answer as she adds, "And I think the tea I left her, and the tisane to go with it, will ease her pain a bit."

"No sugar. I'll take cream if you think it'll compliment the tea. I don't often get adventurous with hot teas, though my gran had a fruit tea with prunes and dried orange peels and hibiscus petals..." Andy slows to a stop, frowning just slightly. "Or maybe that was some potpourri she made." He shakes his head, then smiles when he sees the cup she has chosen. "She seemed invigorated just by the company, so if the tea can do even better than that then you are a miracle worker and I'll have to hire someone to hack Yelp so I can do six stars."

"It's the Irish in me," Caoimhe replies, flashing him a grin though there's something - some truth somewhere in there that underlies her jocular tone. "I've enough of the Old Ways to know how to bring someone ease without worsening the problem." She shakes her head. "I'm not much of a fan meself of cream in the herbals, but some of you Yankess like everything creamy and sugary. Try it without," she suggests, pouring him a cup and blowing across the top as the steam rises. She pours another cup, a delicate one this time and does likewise, leaving it straight and moving over to hand him his cup while still keeping hers. "We can always add cream later if you decide you'd like to try it, but it's hard to take cream out of tea once it's in. And you might find you like the flavor." Once he takes his cup and her hand is free, she gestures to the couches - battered, old, having seen better days - but comfortable for all that. "Would you like to sit a while?"

"Maybe that's why you and my mom were such fast friends. She works in a school and lives in Gray Harbor, but there's a part of her that sticks to the old ways as well. We'd probably still be living on the res, but after gran died she didn't want to stay in our house and it was just a little easier being a single mom in Gray Harbor. Most of the work to be found on the res these days is working at the Quinault resort on the coast. Which beats no work, obviously, but it's a far sight from... well." Andy gives a slight shrug, just a touch uncomfortable at the idea of discussing his heritage with someone who is just this side of being a stranger. He lifts his tea and blows on it before taking a sip, then giving a nod. "Without was definitely the right choice. This is good. Just the right degree of fruitiness to go with the floral of the jasmine." The invitation gets another smile and he moves to do just that. "I think I'd like that."

"East or West or somewhere in between, those who follow the Old Ways have a way of recognizing each other," Caoimhe agrees gently. She waits until he's seated and then chooses a seat at a right angle, tucking one foot under her as she settles to sip her own tea. "It's difficult, I know, having a heritage not everyone can understand or appreciate. Something that deserves pride and honor, but that outsiders don't well understand. There is no price that can be put on a way of life, but there are so few people who truly understand that." And then she moves on, allowing a change to the conversation and guiding it away from more personal topics. "So what brings your steps my way today, Sergeant Andy? On laundry day, no less? You don't seem quite the type to be shopping for crystals."

"Well, you seemed to be somewhat interested by my unusual spread when you did a reading for me before. I don't know a lot of western occult, but I know cards enough to know that there's a whole lot more of the ones with numbers and suits than there are of the others. And... and I guess that after a long time of being a sceptic, something about being back in Gray Harbor, something about-" Andy stops short, expression lost for a second, like he couldn't believe the words someone was saying and was a little alarmed to find he was the one saying them. After a second he says, "I was raised to believe in a lot of things. In another city, on another coast, it was very easy to believe that those things were the hazily fantastical memories of a rather magical youth rather than ... actual fantasy. But back here after a decade and a half? A lot is coming back. And if you were willing to do a fuller reading, I would not say no thank you."

Caoimhe looks absolutely delighted. "Oh!" She sets her tea on an end table next to her comfortable chair, and stands. "I'd be thrilled," she says. "There are so many interesting people here, and so many interesting lives. I won't do too much convincing though. I've found those who walk the paths find their own ways, and I don't interfere with that. But I'd be happy to help as a guide." She moves away, to a decorative cabinet full of boxes. Her hand moves from box to box, sometimes passing smoothly on, other times hesitating - until at last she pulls out an oak box with a light stain, a tree etched in the wood of the lid. "This one, I think." Moving back to the couch, she starts to shuffle as they talk, stacking the cards in four piles, putting them back together, shuffling some more as she speaks. "This time, we'll leave it open but in a different way. I can talk you through it, but it will be up to you to decide what it means and what the cards are telling you." She pauses, looking up from the cards to regard him thoughtfully. "You might have an easier time with this than most, but I am just the guide. I can tell you the message, but it's up to you to determine how it applies to you and the situation at hand." She cuts the cards, making three piles. "One, two, or three?" Waiting for him to choose a stack of cards.

"I don't really know a lot about what the cards mean. Is this one of those things where that's actually kind of a benefit to everything having meaning, because of so I feel like I'm probably starting ahead of the game." Despite having specifically asked for this, Andy still overtalks some, a clear sign of someone who might be putting off finding something out. Just repeat 'they're only cards' and it'll make the whole thing easier. So he turns his attention to the three piles, considering, genuinely relying on something more than randomly pointing at one and saying here. If it feels right, then, "This one," he says, pointing at the first pile.

Caoimhe chuckles. "You don't have to," she says easily. Reassuringly. "That's my part of this, I promise." She lays the cards out. One in the center, one cross. One up, one down. One left, one right. Four on the right in a line. Face down, each of them, and then she turns them over, one by one. Green eyes go distant in thought as she purses her lips. "Lot of wands," she says at last. "But it starts with the four of cups. Whatever you're working through, you may feel stuck? Or..." She tilts her head. "Well. There's two ways to look at this. One seems to be talking about your professional life. The other, your personal one. Which do you want to work through today?"

Andy grimaces at the notion of working through his personal life. "Probably my professional life, I think. I can't help but feel like I took a real step down moving back here." He picks up his tea and holds it in both hands, then gives a quick laugh. "Sorry if I keep oversharing. It's very serene in here." Except for the daggers the cat is shooting him, but Andy's always been a dog person anyway. He turns his eyes to the card, head tilting as he considers the figure of the fellow and his tree.

Caoimhe nods. "Professional then," she agrees. "You're feeling stuck. But what you think of as a step down may yet prove to be a gift in disguise. Do not throw away what you've found so easily, and take time. Take your time to consider what you face at the moment. A case, perhaps. Or just the work in general. You aren't as stuck as you believe." She points at the card lying crosswise over the four of cups. "That is the Queen of Wands. You are chasing someone destructive, perhaps. What lies before you is a test of wills - both of you are strong-willed. Both of you confident in your eventual success. You'll need to cling to that determination in the days to come."

"Ah, this is still professional, right? Not chasing someone in a more romantic sense?" Andy's expression suggests either way could make sense, but one would likely be a lot scarier than the other. His eyes move to the queen on her throne, focusing on her as if he might actually recognize something in her cryptic appearance. Before he gets too absorbed by the possibilities in one card over another he purpose distracts himself for a moment with another sip of his tea.

"This is professional," Caoimhe says firmly. "If this were a more personal reading I would likely interpret the cards differently. Then again, if you choose to interpret the cards differently, you are allowed to. They don't always say the same things to different people. In fact they rarely do. But the interpretation I'm reading for you is professional." She gestures to the next card. "What lies behind you - the King of Swords, reversed. Someone who uses their power for cruelty. What lies before you - the Seven of Wands. A chase. A puzzle to be solved. And you will solve it, though the King of Swords will lead you on quite the chase. Self doubt is your enemy here - if you do not step boldly, you will not solve the puzzle. You will not catch the King."

Andy stares at the king, long and hard. It's possible he's thinking about that wicked past. Or just as likely he's trying to figure out to what he'd apply the title. Looking to the seven he murmurs, "There's always a puzzle. Including this one." He gives a faint laugh, but looks back to the king without quite thinking about it. Without really meaning to. The king himself doesn't really look warm, but... Andy gives his head another shake and sits back. "Be sure of myself. That I can do. I think." Beat. "That was a joke." Beat two. "Sorry."

Caoimhe chuckles. "No need to apologize. Humor and readings aren't exclusive." She surveys the cards. "And this is a challenging read. You see a great deal of evil in your job, don't you Sergeant?" She sighs. "The King of Cups next - this one is tricky, but here I'm seeing that you're looking for someone who is powerful, and unable to control strong currents of emotion. And yet whoever you're looking for," and here Caoimhe shudders, "feeds off the emotions, in a spiral of cruelty and evil." She points to the Three of Wands. "Be careful. Your search will bear fruit, but you may need to look in the past to find the truth of the matter. Perhaps you've missed something," she suggests, and when she looks at him, her eyes are filled with concern. "This is not a completely dismal spread, but it is a little - ominous. If you find yourself in trouble, you may come here if you need. For things perhaps a bit outside the normal." It's a delicate comment.

"In my current job it's mostly papercuts," replies Andy, the quip all but automatic considering that for the past week or so his job has mostly been bodies piling up. "I was a field agent in Portland until recently, though. There... you get to see a lot of evil in this line of work, yes. It's... never as contained as you might think going in. It's everywhere people just aren't paying enough attention, or giving enough care." His mouth forms a thin line, expression turning to relief as she moves on with the reading. Though what she uncovers next isn't much comfort. Looking at the king of cups he says, tone hollow, "ah, good, the King of Swords has a friend. Everyone needs a pal." At her offer he gives a lopsided smile and a nod. "The idea of looking to the past, at least, makes a lot of sense. I should find my father. I feel like a lot of things that haven't made sense over the past couple of months might if I could just talk to him again."

"Perhaps," opines Caoimhe enigmatically. "Though this is a professional and not a personal reading, it seems to want to discuss both all at once. If your father is part of your work at present, that might explain a lot of it. Of course, I don't usually get so ominous a spread from mere papercuts." She points. "The Five of Cups. Your - subject. Is subject the right word? Your subject has acted in anger, lashed out. And is even now feeling the disappointment that comes from acting without thought. The Seven of Cups tells me your subject is losing rationality. You will want to try to find them soon. They are losing touch with reality, step by step and moment by moment." She points to the next one. "The Lord - sometimes called the Emperor - this is you in this reading. If you are called upon to act, you must do so calmly and decisively. Take the lead, for more than just your life will depend on you doing so. Be courageous and bold, and you will win the day. But," and here caution enters her tone even as she indicates the final card, the Nine of Swords, "it will not be easy, and it will take its toll on you. Mentally. Spiritually. Don't be afraid to take a little time for yourself then. Find those who offer respite and refreshment. You will need it, once this case draws to a close." As the reading concludes she lapses into silence, collecting the cards quietly, stacking them back. "If you want a purely personal reading, I can likely do that - but another time. I think you are burdened with enough knowledge for today," she adds with a slight smile.

"I'm increasingly getting the feeling that what counts as professional for the police in this city is expansive in a way it might not be elsewhere. But... yes." As she gestures to and explains the rest of the cards he listens silently, eyes moving over the archetypical figures and their poses, laden with suggestion, hinting at meaning. "No, I believe you are correct. That was foreboding enough about something I've considered fairly simple that I'm almost afraid what a reading on my personal life, already in upheaval, might reveal." Andy finishes off his tea, looking back to the Lord, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to reconcile the stern figure with himself. Finally he sighs and says, "Well, at least I have a chair too. Evil shouldn't be able to claim all the good seats." Looking back to her he says, "If I may ask, how long have you been doing this? Is it a family gift, or something that called to you?" Whatever the case, he seems all-in on giving it some genuine meaning and weight.

"It runs in my family," Caoimhe says at last. "When I said I practiced the Old Ways, it was not because I've studied it on the internet and think to make something up and fool people." She shakes her head. "About half of what I sell here is little more than common herbal remedies that have always worked, handed down by my family through the generations. There are... other reasons to stay here," she allows. "This is the place I'm meant to be, at least for now. And so I ply my trade - teas and tisanes, potions and lotions. It's all very pedestrian. The tarot and the... other things," she adds carefully, "those are my gifts, and those I practice as I feel the impulse or need, not for profit but to help." She looks at the closed box now. "I believe if you come back another day and want a reading about your personal life, a different deck will be required. This one is far too portentious to use for that."

"Yes. Gray Harbor has a way of making things happen." Andy doesn't even try to couch it in terms that make it seem a little less like he's talking about the city as if it's a conscious thing. "Though in this case I'm glad you're here. I hope it works out well for you. You've already touched a life here. No matter what the future holds, my mother is better for your visit. She was so excited to have had the chance to talk shop with a fellow herbalist." Andy looks around the store and smiles. "I think you've made something special here. And I'm glad to get to know you, Caoimhe." He pushes himself to his feet. "And to share your tea." Another smile, this one broad and with the potential of a laugh somewhere behind it, despite the grim reading. "Should you ever need me for anything, whether it's to move some boxes or in my more official capacity or if you ever decided you needed someone who could speak Quileute or Quinault, please let me know."

"I'm glad to know you too, Andy." Her smile is warm. "Come in any time. And come back soon, because I really would love to know more about your tribe. I suppose I could ask your mother too - but I'm curious to know more, as I am most definitely not from around here." She says that last in a mangled Southern accent, and then laughs. "I heard that a lot," she says, dropping the attempt at Southern, "when I tried to live in Atlanta. It's better out here, to be sure. And whatever it is that makes Gray Harbor different - I know I'm meant to be here for now. This place is very much in need of healing." She picks up the now-empty cups and the box, heading over to the cupboard to put the deck away with care.