The last year had been a blur of intense negotiations and long hours spent brewing and perfecting new potions. Potions that I bottled up and labeled neatly as aids for all things from arthritis to concoctions that swear to help regrow balding heads. They all worked as intended. What kind of seller would I be if they didn't? The humans did not realize that what they were using included a bit of witchcraft and I worked tirelessly to rebuild my life. A year ago my store had been ransacked. It had been a little shop on the edge of downtown with barely enough room for me to sleep in the back since I had lacked the funds for my old apartment after having invested so much into the start-up costs. I never did find the culprit, though I had long suspected it was someone warning me off the mystery of my parent's murders or possibly a Dark Hunter. I hadn't been quite as cautious then as I was now, much preferring to keep my head and life.

A bit of fortune had fallen into my lap in the last year as I crafted new potions, investing whatever I could into procuring magical plants to tinker with and after selling one of my anti-aging potions (which really just tightened the skin) to a wealthy older gentleman, I had gained a benefactor. An investor who was rolling in money and willing to help me start over again. Business had boomed, I had open a new shop in the south of the city, and had finally managed to save enough to get me another decent studio apartment with my cat, Darwin.

Today had been a long day filled with customers. Despite the overcast and the drizzle, people were out in swarms, groups entering and leaving stores amid bubbling conversation. It would take a bit of time to replenish all the medicines and cure-alls that I had created but I was thrilled with the profit of the day and decidedly ready to close up shop and grab me some dinner on the way home. As dark fell over the city and it hit eight, I tallied up the earnings, locked up, and slipped on my black Columbia jacket for my walk home.

The South was a lovely place to be. It was clean, littered with green spots, and generally not the place for crime. The west side was a different story but I hadn't been there in months to sell my wares to the Weres. I was the only one who could make my products which meant I often worked until I was tired enough to fall asleep wherever I sat at. It was my passion, and as sad as it was to think about, the only thing I really had in my life. Other than my cat. I hadn't seen Dareios in a long while either and had often stopped, planning to text him, to see how he was, but backed down each time, thinking 'it has been too long, just don't' or 'you don't have the time right now to make friends or.. whatever he was'.

I suppose in the end, I was so focused on making myself into something and distracted by the loss and subsequent rebuilding that I just let life fall off my radar.

Not tonight - tonight I was going to splurge on something other than a quick can of beans or microwave dinner. My stomach growls in agreement as I pick up my pace, heading northward towards the eateries, emerald eyes flicking down alleyways as I pass. Just because the south didn't typically have crime didn't mean that it never happened. Tucking back my curly black hair, I turn instead towards a quick in-and-out burger joint that sported neon lights and tacky decorating, lots of red and blue tiles splashed together enough to give anyone a headache.