The old wind up alarm clock buzzed its little heart out and the Takekuro woman rolled over in her cot and pawed for the little metal curse. She had discovered the trinket on one of the shelves in the upper office of her bookstore. It was an old antique thing that was powered by a crank and a spring, rather than batteries that had long since corroded, or electricity that the Luperci did not yet know how to tame. It had always been an ornamental little thing, so its inner workings were all in good shape, and Orin was astonished when she discovered what it could do. The sound was completely unpleasant to the ears and half of the time gave her a headache, but for some reason, she liked it.
Of course, she had no way of knowing if the hands were counting the proper time, but she was able to figure out where to set the third pointer to make the thing ring in an approximate amount of hours. (This had taken some experimentation, though, and more than once she had been startled awake in the middle of the night by the contraption.) The poor little thing probably did not have long to live, but for now Orin enjoyed it’s daily ticking, and winding it at night.
Her paw swept the table as she felt around for the clock, and soon her fingers brushed the glass face and she toggled off the alarm. Yawning, she sat up in her cot and stretched away the sleep. The cot was not the most comfortable place to sleep but she was likely going to have to wait until spring to salvage a decent bed, or construct one from hide and wool. So for now, it would do. After all, it beat the back alleys and condemned hotels she and Niro sought refuge in when they lived in Florida.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slipped off of the cot. Still foggy from sleep, she moved over to the window and opened the shutters, letting the orange light of the dawn seep into the room and brighten her makeshift office-bedroom. The thick blanket of clouds in the sky mirrored the snow laden ground, and she inhaled the cold morning air, here eyes opening more as the chill brought her to full awareness. Closing the shutters again, she briefly checked her appearance in a cracked wall mirror before going downstairs.
She wished she had a fireplace. Sure, she did not need the extra warmth, her thick winter coat having filled in quite nicely, but it would have been a delightful comfort. She wondered if it would be possible to construct one, though she doubted anyone would undertake the endeavor until Spring. Without missing a beat, Orin coasted to the counter that had once been used for transactions and grabbed a purple knit shawl that had been draped over it and threw it over her shoulders – it was more of a creature comfort than anything.
Shawchert should be here soon, and she wanted to be ready. She had cleaned up the best she could the night before and the old bookstore was coming together quite nicely. At some point over the weeks she had salvaged a modest desk and a couple chairs from another store and had placed them in the middle of the sales floor. She nodded her approval at the set up, then disappeared in the stacks of books to find the material she needed for the day.
5 points