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Michel was going to do something drastic, she decided. She hadn't quite decided what, but it would be drastic.
Perhaps it was time for her to admit that she was not cut out to be a farmer. Perhaps she should have admitted to that a long time ago. Every farmer's daughter a farmer did not make, and Michel was perhaps long overdue a career change.
It was rather unfortunate that Michel did not find herself particularly inclined to giving up.
It wasn't that she loved the work; it was gruelling, and her back ached, and the meagre sprouts of her crops brought her only a perfunctory sort of satisfaction. It was simply that she hated the idea of throwing her hands up in the air and admitting that a measly patch of vegetation had bested her.
It followed, then: if Michel wasn't getting the yield she needed, and she wasn't about to switch professions, then something needed to change.
Perhaps the fault was in Michel's fertiliser skills. She'd been diligently using the family recipe for as long as she could remember, but the family fertiliser used to produce results. It was entirely within the realm of possibility that Michel was simply somewhat inept at the fertiliser production process. That was a change she could make.
That morning, armed with nothing but her own battered pride, Michel set out to the village market. Michel was familiar with the place, of course, made regular trips there, of course, both as customer and seller, but today was different, because today, Michel had a mission, and she very, very unfortunately knew exactly whom she would have to turn to.
Michel grit her teeth as she approached.
The other villagers did not tend to bother Michel. The unfortunate matter of her parents taking to illness a few years ago had garnered some attention, some sympathy, for a brief while, but they had returned to their habitual distance soon enough, and Michel had found that she much preferred it that way. Michel was glad not to have to talk much, not to have to stand around in malformed circles and listen to inane chatter, not to have to watch some poor sod try to engage her in conversation. There was only one problem.
"Well, well," called out the problem as Michel approached, and Michel grit her teeth. "Hello, Michel."
Michel was already regretting her entire life. "Eurydice," she greeted calmly enough, folding her hands in front of her lightly before she did something impulsive but just, like wring Eurydice's neck. However much Eurydice deserved it, Michel had found early on that this village did not take well to violence.
"My favourite customer," Eurydice said back, grinning, as she leaned against her stall, a blatant lie, because Michel took all the pains she could to make sure she did not buy from Eurydice. It was like a personal pact that she had proudly managed to keep unbroken. Until, of course, right now. "A rare and precious one. What brings you here?"
Michel ungrit her teeth long enough to say, "Fertiliser. You stock it, don't you?"
Eurydice's eyebrows raised. "Sure do." She gave Michel a far-too-slow once-over, and her grin settled back into something close to a smirk. Michel would give anything to be able to carve it from her mouth with a pair of shears, leave behind a bloody and gaping mass that wouldn't curl so mockingly. "Why, your Liu magic formula not working for you?"
Michel was going to strangle Eurydice. She knew damn fucking well that the Liu magic formula wasn't working for her. It hadn't been working for her for years. Eurydice was one of the few to consistently buy from Michel, even over the worst of Michel's seasons, and she never passed up an opportunity for a snide little comment. Go buy from someone else, Michel had snapped once as she traded the bag of vegetables for Eurydice's coin. And abandon you? Eurydice had replied, mock hurt, eyes wide. I could never. "Trying something new," Michel answered evenly. "Unless you're suggesting your fertiliser is ineffectual."
Eurydice laughed at that. "Never," she promised, and much to her irritation, Michel knew that that, at least, was true. The quality of Eury's goods had never once come into question in the time she'd been trading. "But I gotta say, haven't had any orders for it in a while. Didn't bring any to sell today." Eurydice leaned forwards, her grin pasting itself upon her face again. "Looks like you'll have to come home with me, Michel."
Michel was actually, truly, going to kill Eurydice. She wasn't entirely sure if she believed the claim. "I'll come back later, then," Michel told her, lips pursed, and turned on her heel.
Michel felt herself freeze when a warm hand clamped itself snugly around her wrist with enough force to bruise.
"Hey, now," said Eurydice from behind her, "don't be like that. We could go get you some right now."
Michel scoffed, but did not turn to look at Eurydice. "Don't be ridiculous," she told her. "You can't just leave your stall unmanned."
Michel couldn't see Eurydice, but she felt the shrug pass through her, and she could imagine the eye-roll. "Please. No thieves in this lil place. Plus," she added, and she may have been gesturing, though Michel couldn't tell since she very pointedly was not looking, "I got myself a couple new recruits. They'll keep business fresh. Won't you?"
The last part was evidently aimed at someone else. Michel hadn't noticed anyone new at Eurydice's stall, but she supposed she'd been preoccupied. "Sure thing, Eury," came the reply from an unfamiliar voice.
"See?" said Eurydice, and Michel could taste the smugness radiating from the word. "C'mon, Michel. You're getting VIP access to goods here."
Michel tried and failed to suppress a sigh. Eurydice would be getting VIP access to the fucking afterlife if she kept this up. "Okay," Michel said, and she tried not to feel like it was giving up.
"Attagirl," Eurydice crowed, using her grip on Michel's wrist to swing Michel around with an unnecessary amount of force, causing Michel to stumble somewhat. Eurydice caught her around the shoulders, jostling her again as she pulled Michel in tight, their sides pressed so tightly together Michel couldn't have passed a sheet of paper between them. Michel closed her eyes and attempted a deep breath.
Eurydice would be lucky if she didn't become Michel's new fertiliser.