A small detour into Northeney, the beautiful isle in the North Sea. Join me as I struggle to remember what tense I was writing in and get lost in the pretty :)
Agnes is a loner, living off on one side of the island. She enjoys the peace and quiet out here.
There's a brisk sea breeze up here on this cliff that only vaguely smells of sea gull droppings.
Her cat is a little black tabby that speaks his mind on a literal scale. They communicate in their own odd way, as a witch's familiar he has his own unique set of skills. These usually include demanding food more loudly and impertinently than any other feline on the isle.
"You're cute, which is lucky for you."
"Mrow." I know I'm cute, it has nothing to do with luck human.
She works at her alchemy book for a few hours. As a creator of mysterious medicines and potions, she is often stooped over the cauldron here that steams with funny smelling chemicals and an odor of burnt honey.
One of her favorite things about the island is the untouched, untarnished nature. Agnes feels a certain revulsion towards what her own species likes to do to the world and feels most at home where the only obvious sounds are birdsong, wind, waves and gulls.
It's a lovely warm evening in midsummer.
The deer enjoys the view of the rising moon and the unrendered distance.
Agnes considers the celestial body from where she sulks in the ocean. She's not in very deep, since a deep loathing of water keeps her from swimming beyond where she can touch bottom. Why get in at all? To conquer the fear, of course. No witch worth her salt was so scared of water - everyone knew witches float. Think of the medieval example of Boobmerta the Swamp Witch! Now that was someone to aspire to, if only for the cleavage.
She takes a detour to examine the wares of the beachside trinket shop but doesn't buy anything. Noticing other people arriving, she furtively escapes to a less populated area. She'd confronted enough fear for one day, people were just asking too much.
It begins to rain as she jogs back to the cabin.
At home, she showers to get the brine out of her hair (and fish poop, ew) while the cat wails from outside the shower. Bad human! You know you might die in there!
It's lovely to settle into her warm bed as thunder rocks the cabin and rain pelts the windows. The storm subsides as quickly as it sprang up though, and it is already tapering off by the time Agnes dozes off in her blankets.
She dreams of her familiar, who sleeps beside her dreaming of a crunchy delectable.
It's a lovely end to the day.
Good night Northeney.
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