Chapter Text
There’s a new shop on Paradise Street.
Wind Archer can hardly believe the sight of it as they walk by the old storefront. The for sale sign is now long gone, and a new face has overtaken it. What was once a quaint little toy shop, selling homemade joy made by a late middle-aged couple and sold cheaper in the festive months, is now completely replaced.
Well, completely replaced is perhaps somewhat of an exaggeration. Small things still remain on the outside, such as the two wall lamps and the carved initials in the wooden step before the door, but it’s not enough for Wind Archer to cling to the memory of.
Change isn’t a common to see in Millenium Woodlands. It’s an old, old place, one full of rich history, and yet so slow moving that it’s practically the same as it was when the first seeds sprouted, blooming tall trees along the town’s borders.
The new store is a little jarring, that’s all. Although it had been coming for well over month now, it feels as though it was wiped clean overnight, leaving behind a blank and lifeless plot.
‘It’s only a new store,’ Wind Archer affirms as they make the short walk to work. ‘It shouldn’t bother me this much.’ They settle on, but a heavy rock still sinks through their gut as they decide to get a head start on bitter acceptance and open up shop.
A floral and earthy scent is always wafting slightly out from the brick walls of Paradise Garden. Wind Archer unlocks the old oak door and carefully swings it open, eased into the building by a familiar old bell that rings a sweet chime.
The shop has, for the last 30 something years, remained relatively the same. It’s older than Wind Archer themself, and yet it’s in perfect condition. The tall front windows coat the painted walls and non-shady plants in a golden glow, and Wind Archer take a moment to breathe in and out, taking in the shop as best they can. Then, without wasting another moment, they begin the same daily process they’ve done for years.
By the end, the shop still remains perfect. The floor is spotless, the plants are watered, popular plants are trimmed, morning pickups are prepared, and a whole slew of tasks that will repeat soon once again. Staying on top and diligent about the shop’s unending required upkeep is something Wind Archer greatly prides themself on.
‘Herb doesn’t drop by for new fertilizer until around 7:30’. Wind Archer thinks as they sit at the counter. They run through the schedules of everyone who usually stops by, planning out the use of their time for the day. ‘That leaves me with 20 minutes of planning, 15 for -“
The bell rings, diverting their attention away from their thoughts far earlier than they should have. Their day must start already, and yet.. no, that can be right; it’s only 6:20. Nobody ever shows up at 6:20.
Wind Archer looks towards the door, a glare in their eyes prepped and ready to bore through whichever customer walked in. To their surprise, someone new stands where a familiar face otherwise would have. It’s someone Wind Archer has never seen.
The stranger moves with grace as his hand carefully closes the door behind himself. He stands there long enough for Wind Archer to note many things from his appearance. The stranger is tall and lanky with dark skin and curly blue-violet hair, save for the white strands that frame his face in a shade that feels natural rather than dyed.
Wind Archer watches carefully as he peeks through the hanging pots and vines, observing them all with a sense of mild wonder at the shop’s decor, acting as if he’d never even stepped into a shop like this before. The man seems unaware that anyone else is even inside as he peeks through and around the shelves, seeming rather fascinated. Wind Archer stays silent from their register by the far wall, until eventually the stranger’s gaze makes its way to the counter.
The two lock eyes. The man does not smile nor frown, but instead merely waves politely and approaches the desk while Wind stares daggers through his skull, choosing to will a curse upon the man and his entire family for showing up at a legal yet aggravating time. The man himself is puzzling. Wind Archer knows every name and face in this entire town, and they certainly would know a man as unusual looking at this.
“Hello. I’m searching for a house plant.” He says politely, a slight accent to his words that Wind Archer cannot identify. “Could you lend me some help?”
Wind Archer draws a blank. They continue to stare expressionless at the man. They note his spacy calm voice and the dark old-style clothing he dawns, and can’t help the question of just who exactly it is that’s wandered into their shop.
“..Yes. I can help.”
The man looks glad, though the expression he gives is small and gone before it ever left a mark. Wind Archer remains uncertain about the new person, but a customer is a customer. And, though they won’t admit it, they’re rather curious about the stranger.
“What is it you’re looking for, Sir?”
Agreeing to help, they realize, was perhaps a poor decision for the unfamiliar man.
“I’m looking for something that’s welcoming,” He had described. “I’m trying to make my home look nice and colourful, and I think blue would be very fitting.”
The “houseplant” the man wanted was more so like a flower bush or similarly taller plant that should be placed outside. Wind Archer easily pointed him to multiple options located all in the same general area of the shop’s indoor department. Blue isn’t a common colour to come looking for or to find, so the shop’s collection of them is unfortunately quite small.
Despite this, the man has been in the store for well over an hour, kneeled down in front of the ceramic pots and contemplating between what few choices they have and mumbling to himself. Wind Archer is certain that the leather shoes the man is wearing have formed irreversible crinkles.
“Is he not going to leave?” Herb Cookie asks, having arrived 10 minutes ago to the sight of an unusual person hunched by the window. Wind Archer only shrugs a reply as they hand over the herbalist’s goods, continuing to be mildly entertained by watching the battle fought over hibiscus and hydrangeas.
“How long has he been here?” Herb adds on as Wind Archer bags her items. It’s the same two small bags of fertilizer and two pounds of earth worms that Herb buys every single morning. The reason why is unknown to them, and they find it difficult to dare try and ask.
Wind Archer hands her the reusable woven bag. “Too long.” They say, and she wishes them luck before leaving.
It takes another 20 minutes before the odd man’s will seems to crumble, and he walks towards the counter with a face of defeat.
“Have you found what you’re looking for?” Wind Archer asks.
“I cannot seem to decide..” He sighs. “The delphiniums are exactly the colour I’m looking for! But, it’s too… frail?”
“…Frail?”
“Yes, too thin and fragile looking.” The man says. “I’m furnishing my shop and apartment, and it needs to look perfect and lively. I hear that strong plants can make a good impression, and though they are beautiful, I just can’t see it working...” He explains, speaking with a tone of disappointment.
“Not to mention that my sister is in town soon.” He adds. “It’s absolutely vital that I am able to impress her while she’s here.”
At that, Wind Archer nods in deep understanding.
“I suggest larkspur, then.” They offer, pleased to see the man’s head perk up at their advice. “It’s annual, meaning you won’t have to re-plant it. And they stay in bloom for the entire autumn.”
“The whole autumn?” The man repeats with a blend of surprise and interest in his voice.
“Most of it, yes. They are thin, but enough stalks grow that they look similar to a full bush if you plant enough.” Wind Archer almost smiles as they explain. “Larkspur are also ‘welcoming’, as you asked for. They have a reputation for bringing good times and positivity..”
The man nods, and Wind Archer manages to get the impression they’ve made a successful sale. The man then reaches into an internal pocket within his caplet, and pulls out an envelope almost as thick as a phone book. “How much would it be to fill two pots?” He asks.
He opens the envelope, and Wind Archer finds that it’s stuffed to a near breaking point with old and horribly warped dollar bills. They don’t think they’ve ever seen so much money revealed from anyone’s pockets, and the sight momentarily takes them out for a moment.
“…$36.50.” They reply, attempting to subtly scan the man’s face once more. Wind Archer is not one to keep up with celebrities or icons or anyone of notable fame. Despite this, they try to see if they recognize him from anywhere. An actor, maybe? CEO of a company they’ve never heard of? The puzzled mystifies them to no end.
“Thank you.” He says as they sort the money away.
“Will you need help moving them?”
“No, I don’t think so. My shop is right down the road from this one, so it’s not too much effort for me.”
That stops Wind Archer in their tracks, causing them to stare through him for a moment. “…What was that?” They ask, even though they know what they heard.
The man looks at him, puzzled by their sudden behavior. “I’ve opened up a antique store just down the block.” He elaborates, and follows with a tone of anxiousness. “Why, is something the matter?”
“…No, not at all. I didn’t know it was you who moved in across the road, is all.” Thinking about it, the news does explain a fair bit. A small pang of guilt hits them as they realize how rude they’ve been, even if it hadn’t been voiced. “I apologize, I haven’t properly welcomed you yet..”
“It’s no worry, really. I only arrived a few days ago, and I’ve been so occupied with setting things up.. I suppose haven’t been a good new neighbor yet.” The man says with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m very scattered this week, unfortunately.”
Wind Archer only hums at that. “Still, I would like to welcome you. …If you should need it, I could help you move your things in.”
The new shopkeep seems to think for a moment, his hand held in a loose grip around nothing at his chest “Are you certain?” He asks. “The truck arrives tomorrow morning.. I wouldn't want to disrupt your work.”
“I am certain.” They reply quicker than even they themself expected to.
“Well..” The man pauses shortly. “I would appreciate it a lot. Thank you..” His eyes flick to their chest, looking for a name tag that doesn’t exist.
“..Wind Archer.” They tell him.
“Thank you, Wind Archer.” He smiles at them, then picks the plants up into his arms. The sword-like plants take shelter under his caplet as they rest against his hip, and somehow, he manages to not get a single speck of dirt on him.
“And yours?” Wind Archer asks just as he starts towards the exit.
The man looks a bit embarrassed as he pauses by the white door. In fact, looks caught as he stands there, his gloved hand placed half turned on the old handle. “You can-” He begins to say, before an expression Wind Archer has yet to learn passes over him. “..My name is Stardust.”
“I will see you tomorrow morning, Stardust.”
“Oh! Yes, of course.. I will see you then.” He speaks, then promptly leaves the store, taking care to carefully shut the door before hurriedly going down the street.
Wind Archer watches him leave to the left of the store the window, and eventually, he’s out of sight.