All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Poisonous
Word Count: 739
Crossposted here at runaway-tales
The small pharmacy wasn't much of an escape from the sweltering heat, the hot air inside being pushed around by a lazy electric fan in the corner. A teenage boy sat behind the counter, watching her with enormous brown eyes shielded by a mop of brown-black hair, and he smiled at her as she approached.
"Soh'inoh," he said to her, and gestured to the glass case in front of him, the yellowed containers of familiar medications - Advil wrapped in cardboard boxes that were swollen from the humidity, tubes of Tylenol wrapped in peeling labels, squat bottles of Midol so old they couldn't possibly be effective. "Te mic sora? Vi heti -"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she interrupted, giving him a sheepish smile. "Do you speak English?"
"English?" he asked, his voice heavily accented, and shook his head. "Nai, nai."
"I need this," she said, pulling the near-empty pouch out of her satchel. She opened it and removed the last curled piece of dried root and held it out to him - the youngster raised an eyebrow, his expression turning suspicious.
"Sora?" he asked, pointing at it.
"I need these," she repeated, tapping the white and brown spotted casing. "Five of these." She raised her free hand, splayed her fingers. "Five. Do you understand?" When he stared blankly at her, she had to resist the urge to sigh in frustration - the oppressive heat was making her nervous and agitated. "Is there anybody else here?" she asked. "Any - wait, wait!" The teenager had slid off his stool and was backing toward the curtain behind him, and Katrina leaned anxiously toward him. "Please, wait, I need you to..." But he was already gone, and she slouched against the glass, closing her eyes in defeat. "Goddammit," she whispered, her hand clenching into a loose fist around the root. "God-fucking-damm -"
"Can I help you, miss?" A middle-aged man came through the curtain, a portly, older version of the teenager with warm eyes and simple linen clothing, giving her a friendly if not somewhat cautious smile. "My son says you are looking for herbs."
"Oh thank God," she said, and opened her hand to pass him the root. "I need these, five pieces, about this long." She spread her thumb and index finger, indicating roughly six inches. The man took the root from her hand and examined it, his eyes narrowing.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, glancing up at her. Katrina sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead.
"Please," she said. "I really don't have much time, I need -"
"This is very poisonous," the man said, gesturing at her with the root. "Very poisonous. It grows in there." He pointed out the door, toward the rainforest that crouched in a shimmering veil of heat at the city's edge. "This, we do not sell. Ever." He placed the plant on the counter and wiped his hands on the front of his shirt, shaking his head at her. "You will not have much luck finding this -"
"My friend bought this here," she interrupted, jamming her finger on the counter. "If you're trying to tell me -"
"Miss, you must listen, I can tell you, I have never sold -"
"No, you listen!" Katrina snapped, slamming her hands on the glass and leaning toward him. "Eli Prescott, you know him, right?" She didn't even wait for the man to answer - the flicker of recognition on his face at the mention of Eli's name was enough. "He bought this here, less than a week ago."
"Eli is a special case, miss, he -"
"My friend is dying!" Her palms slapped the warm glass to accentuate every word, her voice rising in pitch and desperation. "If you sell this, I need it now, you understand? I don't have time to stand here and argue with you!"
For several seconds the tired whirring of the fan was the only sound in the shop, until the man sighed and crouched, removing a small plastic container from beneath the counter.
"You do know," he said, removing several lengths of root and handing them to her, "that this will kill a human."
"I know."
"But I think, in your case, it doesn't matter?" He watched her as she removed the coins from her satchel, but shook his head and waved her off. "Tell Eli they are a gift, this time," he said.
Word Count: 739
Crossposted here at runaway-tales
The small pharmacy wasn't much of an escape from the sweltering heat, the hot air inside being pushed around by a lazy electric fan in the corner. A teenage boy sat behind the counter, watching her with enormous brown eyes shielded by a mop of brown-black hair, and he smiled at her as she approached.
"Soh'inoh," he said to her, and gestured to the glass case in front of him, the yellowed containers of familiar medications - Advil wrapped in cardboard boxes that were swollen from the humidity, tubes of Tylenol wrapped in peeling labels, squat bottles of Midol so old they couldn't possibly be effective. "Te mic sora? Vi heti -"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand," she interrupted, giving him a sheepish smile. "Do you speak English?"
"English?" he asked, his voice heavily accented, and shook his head. "Nai, nai."
"I need this," she said, pulling the near-empty pouch out of her satchel. She opened it and removed the last curled piece of dried root and held it out to him - the youngster raised an eyebrow, his expression turning suspicious.
"Sora?" he asked, pointing at it.
"I need these," she repeated, tapping the white and brown spotted casing. "Five of these." She raised her free hand, splayed her fingers. "Five. Do you understand?" When he stared blankly at her, she had to resist the urge to sigh in frustration - the oppressive heat was making her nervous and agitated. "Is there anybody else here?" she asked. "Any - wait, wait!" The teenager had slid off his stool and was backing toward the curtain behind him, and Katrina leaned anxiously toward him. "Please, wait, I need you to..." But he was already gone, and she slouched against the glass, closing her eyes in defeat. "Goddammit," she whispered, her hand clenching into a loose fist around the root. "God-fucking-damm -"
"Can I help you, miss?" A middle-aged man came through the curtain, a portly, older version of the teenager with warm eyes and simple linen clothing, giving her a friendly if not somewhat cautious smile. "My son says you are looking for herbs."
"Oh thank God," she said, and opened her hand to pass him the root. "I need these, five pieces, about this long." She spread her thumb and index finger, indicating roughly six inches. The man took the root from her hand and examined it, his eyes narrowing.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, glancing up at her. Katrina sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead.
"Please," she said. "I really don't have much time, I need -"
"This is very poisonous," the man said, gesturing at her with the root. "Very poisonous. It grows in there." He pointed out the door, toward the rainforest that crouched in a shimmering veil of heat at the city's edge. "This, we do not sell. Ever." He placed the plant on the counter and wiped his hands on the front of his shirt, shaking his head at her. "You will not have much luck finding this -"
"My friend bought this here," she interrupted, jamming her finger on the counter. "If you're trying to tell me -"
"Miss, you must listen, I can tell you, I have never sold -"
"No, you listen!" Katrina snapped, slamming her hands on the glass and leaning toward him. "Eli Prescott, you know him, right?" She didn't even wait for the man to answer - the flicker of recognition on his face at the mention of Eli's name was enough. "He bought this here, less than a week ago."
"Eli is a special case, miss, he -"
"My friend is dying!" Her palms slapped the warm glass to accentuate every word, her voice rising in pitch and desperation. "If you sell this, I need it now, you understand? I don't have time to stand here and argue with you!"
For several seconds the tired whirring of the fan was the only sound in the shop, until the man sighed and crouched, removing a small plastic container from beneath the counter.
"You do know," he said, removing several lengths of root and handing them to her, "that this will kill a human."
"I know."
"But I think, in your case, it doesn't matter?" He watched her as she removed the coins from her satchel, but shook his head and waved her off. "Tell Eli they are a gift, this time," he said.