Snakes and Lattes (Jurdan mortal world au)

Tryst by Mushroomlight

'Sure, yup.' She whacked a road crossing button in a way that made Cardan grateful he was not a traffic light. 'Oh, and I shaved my legs and put on matching underwear. I groom, okay? Satisfied?'

'Immensely.'

He considered that information in smug silence, resisting the urge to inquire as to the colour of the alleged matching underthings.

A mystery best solved by moonlight, he decided.

The sun crept through a patch of cloud as they arrived at the cafe, causing steam to curl up from the concrete. He was tasked with shaking out the umbrella while Jude sifted through her handbag for the key. He didn't even know she kept handbags. Everything she ever needed usually materialized from her pockets and, on occasion, a sexy, strappy little thigh holster.

But there would have been no concealing it beneath that skirt.

The garment she wore was short, tight and tartan-printed. A strip of forest green between her slinky black top and tights. It hugged her generous mortal hips and thighs, pronouncing her every step to anyone paying attention, and he happened to be paying very careful attention.

He watched that skirt sway all the way into the cafe, stopping as its wearer reached the counter.

She sighed, then. Her hand went out to caress the wooden surface in one long, sentimental stroke. She looked like she was saying goodbye.

'I've made an executive decision,' she announced over her shoulder.

Cardan sent the umbrella home to a thin metal basket and closed the door behind himself, sealing the room in readiness for an impromptu staff meeting.

'The ivy stays.'

He raised scandalised brows at her. 'Tell me we're keeping it just to spite the photographer.'

Her eyes narrowed to wicked half-moons. 'You bet your sweet faerie ass we are.'

Ha! Nobody had ever called it sweet before. They were usually too distracted by his tail to notice...

'And, in fact,' she went on, gesturing broadly about the cafe. 'I think it could use a little sprucing.'

He sketched a dramatic bow. 'By your command.'

'Please, none of that. The power goes straight to my head.'

Transformed as it was in tone, the morning looked set to continue like any other thereon in. The coffee machine groaned to life. The room quickly filled with the bracing scent of ground beans and bright, upbeat music.

Unbearable ordinariness, easily remedied by magic.

He stretched his fingers and pulled up a chair to stand on. Reaching up above the door, he sank his hands into a leafy sprig of ivy, closing his eyes tight in focus. Power passed through his fingertips to every stem and leaf. The plant shuddered like a cat stretching after being stirred from sleep.

Grow, he bid. And the thing grew. And grew.

The branches stretched along the walls, seeking other sprigs, crosshatching with other coils to form a frame of green along the edges of the ceiling until it all began to creep inward. He concentrated until his head ached; until he had constructed an entire living ceiling of lushest ivy. It was a good thing the electric lights hung low, otherwise they might have been swallowed in the sea of green.

He heard Jude whisper his name in wonderment. Soft and reverent, like an enchantment.

Perhaps a flourish?