#read our old dms and urban fantasy shop owners next door...

[saintvampe]

—   𝐌.   |  THE UNDERGROUND DOES NOT OPEN FOR ANOTHER HOUR, at least: the Saint ( ! ) begins her work early, opening the shutters of her shop and unlocking the door, then starting on renovation plans before anyone had any chance to intervene. that's the way down here: get there first or pay the price. the vampiristic woman enters into her shop for a moment, the bell of the front door dinging once before its frame shutters closed ... and then she emerges moments later, just as the shop - owner next door begins to reach her own stoop, with a metal post in one hand, a hammer in the other. the woman comes to the edge of her store, places the pole between her own postal box and the box of the other shop, and brings her hammer atop its head with a mighty swing. the clanging rings out in triplets, then pause, the world seemingly rattling with sound.

THE UNDERGROUND DOES NOT OPEN FOR ANOTHER THIRTY MINUTES, and she is still hammering away at the wretched thing, moved on to another corner in her imagined square. the hammer comes down quick and swift, heavy as a bat. the metal rings out with offensive revelry.

the other shop - owner, @godwitch, comes to the outside, right under her awning. What are you doing? the question is asked in a quick pace of tone, as if she were trying to expel it quicker than the hammer's blow. the vampiristic woman glances upwards, brown eyes flashing sweet. Oh, she begins, hello, neighbor! Well, I had this plan of changing up my layout. I need a bigger patio for winter months...

the woman stares at her with storm - grey eyes, the tallness of her almost, for a moment, seeming to match the Saint. her mouth opens, and hushed, even - toned and quick: " you’re not the only one who gets to make plans. "

here, the vampiristic woman gives a childish groan. annoyance races through her like an arrow, shooting into her forehead and behind her eyes. the Saint ( ! ) turns with a swiftness towards the woman, teeth begging to be bared. an angry step is taken forwards, though there is no anger in her face, just strange curiosity, slight offense: a cocked head, a grimacing mouth.  ❝   WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ? [ a moment passes. the anger leaves and is replaced with joyous grin, fangs showed. a chuckle passes her red mouth. ] ... are you jealous that you didn't think of it first ?  oh, there will be other ideas...  ❞ and she returns to her hammering, the world filled again with awful noise.