happy national coffee day, everyone! in celebration of the occasion, there's a half-priced drinks special going on at your favorite coffee place! feel free to tag around, invite your friends, do whatever! just try to cut our poor employees some slack...
[it's quiet at the cafe. the worst of the evening crowd has dissipated, leaving only a few college-age stragglers doing their last-minute cramming before they retreat for the night. and even then, the last of them pack up their things and make their way out the door after another hour passes.
sandalphon stands at the counter, closes his eyes, and listens to the city around him.
it's peaceful here, in this world. he hasn't seen monsters prowling the streets the way they do on so many of the islands in the skyrealm. the technology is cutting-edge but alien; even their airships—planes—are sleek, shiny contraptions of metal, unlike the wooden airships he's accustomed to seeing. for the first time since he's arrived here in this city, he lets himself miss the grancypher and its ragtag mess of a crew.
arriving isn't incorrect, though it hardly explains the entire situation. summoned, as his bewildered master—a seemingly ordinary girl not unlike the singularity, with her soulful eyes—had put it. an accident, because she hadn't understood how the aged sword she'd used as her catalyst had summoned an archangel from another world. a contract is a contract though, one he's bound by magic to obey; trying to rebel has left him with nothing but spent energy and growing frustration.
what he doesn't understand is his master's insistence on clinging to her farce of a normal life when she's entrenched in the throes of a holy grail war. she has her late father's cafe to mind, when her mother isn't available, and the second sandalphon had let slip that he knew how to make coffee, he'd been roped into covering a shift for an employee who was up to her ears in midterms.
ludicrous. a servant dragged into something as mundane as this, and his master had had the gall to threaten using command seals on him. he should have called her bluff, challenged her into wasting one. fewer chances, this way, for her to command him to do something else equally absurd.
still, there's something soothing about being surrounded by the scent of coffee in so unfamiliar a city. somehow, sandalphon doesn't even particularly mind when he hears the bell at the door jingle again, heralding the arrival of a last-minute customer. he looks up, studying the woman with an expression of bored disinterest.]
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sandalphon stands at the counter, closes his eyes, and listens to the city around him.
it's peaceful here, in this world. he hasn't seen monsters prowling the streets the way they do on so many of the islands in the skyrealm. the technology is cutting-edge but alien; even their airships—planes—are sleek, shiny contraptions of metal, unlike the wooden airships he's accustomed to seeing. for the first time since he's arrived here in this city, he lets himself miss the grancypher and its ragtag mess of a crew.
arriving isn't incorrect, though it hardly explains the entire situation. summoned, as his bewildered master—a seemingly ordinary girl not unlike the singularity, with her soulful eyes—had put it. an accident, because she hadn't understood how the aged sword she'd used as her catalyst had summoned an archangel from another world. a contract is a contract though, one he's bound by magic to obey; trying to rebel has left him with nothing but spent energy and growing frustration.
what he doesn't understand is his master's insistence on clinging to her farce of a normal life when she's entrenched in the throes of a holy grail war. she has her late father's cafe to mind, when her mother isn't available, and the second sandalphon had let slip that he knew how to make coffee, he'd been roped into covering a shift for an employee who was up to her ears in midterms.
ludicrous. a servant dragged into something as mundane as this, and his master had had the gall to threaten using command seals on him. he should have called her bluff, challenged her into wasting one. fewer chances, this way, for her to command him to do something else equally absurd.
still, there's something soothing about being surrounded by the scent of coffee in so unfamiliar a city. somehow, sandalphon doesn't even particularly mind when he hears the bell at the door jingle again, heralding the arrival of a last-minute customer. he looks up, studying the woman with an expression of bored disinterest.]
Good evening. What can I get you?