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Just past eight in the morning, the redhead was still wiping the evening dust off the bar counter, spraying the same old lavender wood polish onto the varnished surface and wiping it until she could make out her own reflection in it.
“Awful day for a break, you lot,” Aster mumbled to herself, leaning against the counter, her cheek ghosting over its surface — pleasantly scented and gleaming with polish.
The Draco moved throughout the establishment, taking the wooden chairs down from atop the tables. Luckily, the evening had not treated the store too harshly. War in Londinium had ended, and there was not as much dust drifting in from outside; custom was plentiful, and she no longer saw as many soldiers passing by.
Still, something outside seemed to be stirring up a fuss. Aster picked up the polish bottle with her tail and walked up to the windowsill. Her greyish gaze widened — outside stood a small escort accompanying the Speaker, Alexandrina Victoria; beside her walked a silver-haired Feline, and beside that one, a black-haired Feline Aster recognized at once.
"Isabelle Montague…?"
Aster rushed back into the cellar, grumbling about her absent staff — yet the Draco did not lose her composure, washing her hands and setting things back onto their designated shelf before allowing herself one glance at a mirror, smoothing the red locks with her fingers in case the Speaker and her companion decided to step inside—
Three knocks at the front door, right on cue. Aster’s posture shifted entirely, her tail tucking close to the hem of her bartender’s skirt as she made her way to the front door, swinging it open to find the raven-haired Feline standing just ahead of the Speaker.
Standing between the Aslan and the Draco, Isabelle cast a measuring glance toward the redhead — the shop she herself had recommended, after all. The Aslan’s eyes took in the interior, deeming it sufficiently vintage to earn the bartender a smile. “Fancy that… Miss…?”
The Draco brought her hand to her chest and bowed to the two. “Madam Speaker, Miss Montague, it is an honor to have you both — welcome to the Draconic Brew.”
“Isa, I should be fine by myself,” the Speaker said, only to have the raven-haired Feline nudge her with her elbow. “Oh, I know what label you want!”
Aster found the jab a touch strange, presuming the girl was not too fond of the nickname — the thought was short-lived, however, given it did not concern her.
Alexandrina Victoria entered the store alone, the ravenette closing the door behind her. “Nice ambience you’ve got here — everything from the bottles to the furniture looking quite spotless. No wonder she fancies your place.”
The Aslan walked through the store, and through the redhead’s grey gaze, Aster noticed how Vina had gone quiet, seemingly skimming through the many labels.
“Regent Speaker, are you looking for something specific, or would you like recommendations?” Aster broke the silence, and the Aslan turned back to look at her. “You can tell I don’t know bollocks about these, huh? Isa told me to get Rebentränen for her and pick something for me, but as you can see—”
The Draco’s grey eyes flickered with surprise, and she excused herself behind the counter, picking up the mentioned bottle. “A fine choice, if you ask me.” She held it by the neck and placed it atop the counter. “Now, for my personal recommendations…”
With elegant dexterity, the Draco pulled a bottle from the shelves with her tail. “Rozkosz Ogniska, from Ognisko, the smiths’ city in Kazimierz — meant to cool a smith’s body and spirit near the forge’s heat.”
Aster set the bottle atop the counter and dexterously twirled it in place, picking another bottle from the shelves and placing it beside the Rozkosz Ogniska.
“Now, a fine bottle of Labyrinthos — you wouldn’t find this anywhere outside specialized shops like this one. Yours truly, of course.”
Aster reached beneath the counter for two small tasting glasses, dropping a single sphere of ice into one before she set them down and uncorked the first bottle.
Pop.
“I’ve seen you in the papers, wielding a proper fancy sword — we start with the Ogniska, eh?” With practiced ease, Aster poured the wine into the chilled glass, sliding it across the counter with measured strength so it would not tip.
“Bloody hell, you actually know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Vina’s brows rose, plainly impressed by the bartender’s display of skill.
While Aster rested her hands upon her lap, Vina took the glass and raised it toward the Draco. “Cheers to the Ogniska,” the Lioness said, taking her sip of the beverage — leaving a red smudge upon the glass. “What’s with Labyrinthos, then? Sounds like it’s named after an actual labyrinth — why’s that?”
Aster smiled, then began preparing the second glass. “Despite its gentle proof, those who find themselves inebriated with Labyrinthos walk as lost as those confined in a labyrinth themselves,” she explained, pouring the drink.
“Clever,” Vina commented, still as lost about the beverage, but visibly enthusiastic about Aster’s explanation — the redhead lowered her head and smiled, a faint rosy tint taking over her cheeks. Vina began to drink.
“Did you know, Madam Speaker—” Aster’s tone dipped into something almost conspiratorial, “—they say that if one drinks Labyrinthos while thinking of someone dear to them, that person is bound to fall in love in turn.” Yet, when she raised her gray gaze to eye the Speaker once again, the Lioness’s golden eyes were dead set on Aster herself.
Silence.
Vina did not drink everything — instead, once there was but half of the contents within, the Aslan extended her hand, bringing the rim to Aster’s lips, leaning the glass just enough so Labyrinthos flowed to her.
“Such a cracking legend… You could be a history teacher.” The flush on Aster’s cheeks became impossible to conceal. “I’ll have a Labyrinthos bottle alongside Isa’s Rebentränen.
With cheeks as bright as her hair, Aster nodded without losing her elegant composure — her boots clacked on the wooden floor as she made her way to the cellar to retrieve sealed bottles. Within the cellar, the Draco did not even think of looking at herself in the mirror, knowing full well how impossibly red her cheeks would be. Her tail swayed with poorly hidden delight as she gathered the boxed bottles into a woven carrier and made her way back to the front of the store.
Still carrying herself with the same pose, the Draco prepared to see Vina out of the shop. The Aslan, in turn, picked up a far more generous sum of money and set it upon the counter, which made the Draco’s brows shoot up.
“Regent Alexandrina, that’s—” she tried to explain, only to be cut off as Vina gestured for her to come closer. “Oh, not a word about the change — I’m short on time, and I’ve still got more of Victoria to see.”
Yielding to the Aslan’s quick dismissal, Aster merely nodded and made her way to the door — doing her best to keep her tail in place while she reached for the doorknob, only to be stopped in place by Vina’s arm around her waist.
The Draco inhaled sharply, her gray gaze widening. “Madam, if you allow me.” Vina’s voice was like a purr — the Aslan leaned in and pressed her lips to the crook of the redhead’s neck, pulling back with the same smooth ease and leaving behind a faint crimson smear where her wine-stained lips had been. She then took the carrier from Aster’s hands.
Aster stood there, seemingly frozen, as Vina turned back with a knowing smile. “Keep that as your tip.” She opened the door herself, greeted outside by Isabelle and the white-haired Feline waiting for her.
“Thank you for your lovely hospitality, Miss Aster — I shall return next month for another bottle.” Vina shut the door before her friends could catch even a glimpse of the blushing mess the Draco had become, and Aster took the opportunity to lean her back against it.
She covered her mouth with both hands and blinked rapidly, her gray gaze sweeping back toward the counter, catching the crimson smudges left on both glasses — then blushing harder still at the thought of that lingering warmth at the base of her neck.
Aster’s knees grew weak, and the Draco slid down until she sat right at the Draconic Brew’s front door, her back against the elegant wood.
“By Terra…” she whispered, “you lot better be here to receive her next time. I can’t do it.”
