guess what, it’s on ao3 too

and yet again, i cannot put readmores on submissions. i am so sorry

–

Britain, as always, continued to be pretty damn cold in winter. The cool air, depending on the strength of the wind, could be any temperature between mildly nippy to a brisk hurricane.

Stacey is, at that moment, caught in something more similar to the latter. The wind whips her frizzy hair around her round red face. Her freckles have faded throughout the autumn, and her face is mostly covered by spots. She would make a deal for clear skin, but she doesn’t really feel like giving up her right to win at any board game to Alcor for the rest of her teenage years. So instead, she deals with the sore redness on her chin and cheeks, and the bitter cold wind that is trying to flip her school skirt up.

Normally, she would be with Saffron, but her sister is studying at the library and Stacey needs to buy a Christmas present for her. Their mother left a few tenners on the side counter in the kitchen for them to do their shopping with, and Stacey has seen the perfect thing for her sister in a charity shop. Granted, it’s not expensive or unique or anything, but the little trinket box, engraved with runes, has Saffron metaphorically written all over it.

And that’s why she trudges through the greyish wind of the small city, her schoolbag in her numb hand and her uniform crumpled from the minor storm. At some point, it begins to drizzle gently. Some droplets of rain land on Stacey’s face, trickling down her cheeks like tears in a way that would be intensely symbolic, if she were actually sad. The rain grows thicker as she walks past shops, drumming on the concrete slabs of the boulevard. She speeds up her steps, hunching her back over a bit. There are only a few more steps until the charity shop.

It’s warm inside, and Stacey automatically shakes herself off like a wet dog, before stopping; a little voice that sounds like Saffron telling her, inside her head, to stop being so rude, Jesus Christ, Stace, that’s kind of gross. But the shop smells like old books and washing powder and some sort of weird incense. Stacey flares her wide nostrils, trying to take in as much as possible with her huge brown eyes.

Wait. Shit. Yeah. She is a child on a mission, and she is going to get that fucking trinket box if it is the last thing she does.

She strides to the shelf it is perched on, swipes it up fiercely in her left hand, pulls a ten pound note from her shirt pocket, and in two steps has made it to the counter, upon which she slams down both items.

“I am the Queen of Christmas,” she quietly hisses, a scowl on her face.

The person behind the counter, who is roughly six feet tall and ripped beyond belief, smiles. “That’ll be five pounds, so, uh, just let me check this out for you and get the change, dude.”

As the cashier goes through the computer on the counter, Stacey shifts from her left foot to her right, thinking about getting home and vaguely taking note of bits and pieces from the shop. There is an entire bookcase filled with Demonology texts, and one next to it stuffed with Twin Souls copies and its variants. Maybe she should grab one for Alcor. Then again, he’d probably kill her if she did. The cashier is wearing a badge, declaring eir pronouns, on eir black jumper. There are little stickers on various parts of the shop, like the counter and the shelves and the walls. Some of them are worn and faded, while others are brand new and sparkling with an unnatural iridescence. There are postcards on a spinning rack in the middle of the shop, and for a moment, Stacey thinks that one has blinked at her.

“Dude? You okay?” she hears. After a moment, she realises that the cashier is talking to her.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I guess I just, you know, zoned out,” says Stacey.

“It’s cool,” the person grins. “Anyway, it’s getting really stormy outside. You okay getting home?”

Stacey nods, then realises that summoning Alcor to blip her home from a charity shop in full view of a normal human might be a bad idea. “Actually, I don’t think so.”

“Just hang around here if you need to,” the person grins. “I don’t get many customers, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to. I’m Jam, by the way.”

“Jan?” Stacey repeats uneasily.

The person rolls eir shoulders back, stretching slightly. “Nah, Jam. Like, strawberry, raspberry, apricot. On toast, y’know?”

“That’s a weird name,” Stacey smiles.

“I know someone with a weirder one,” Jam smiles. Ey don’t ever seem to falter in eir cheery demeanour.

“What is it?” Stacey leans forwards, sliding the five pound note she got as change into her pocket and placing the trinket box gently into her bag.

Jam suddenly falters. “Actually, what’s your name, little dude?”

“Stacey,” she shrugs.

“Stacey Stone?” Jam echoes.

She pulls a face. “It’s a little creepy that you know my surname.”

“I just… An, uh, a friend has a friend called Stacey Stone, it’s kind of reflexive.” Jam’s words are jumbled, as though ey can’t get eir lips around all of the phonetics quickly enough.

“Right,” Stacey says.

Thankfully, Alcor takes that moment to pop in. “Hey, Jam, someone traded a ukulele for basic trombone knowledge, can I have that jumbo gummy bear now or what? Wait, Stacey, what the heck?”

“I’m Christmas shopping!” she grins. “Stacey’s at the library, I think. She’s a giant dorky nerd.”

“Yeah, she is,” Alcor says after a few seconds of silence. “She’s getting pretty antsy, though. You want me to take you to her?”

Stacey rifles through her bag before pulling out a chocolate bar with scratched wrapping. “This good?”

“Sure,” Alcor says. “Anyway, Jam, I’ll come back in a minute about the ukulele. I’ve got a deal to make and a child to not babysit.”

Stacey is gone in the blink of an eye and a flash of blue fire.

–

“Where have you been?” Saffron hisses, her face contorted with relief and anger. “I was so worried!”

“Eh, stuff,” Stacey grins back. “Anyway, what’s your thoughts on incense?”