Now I'm hoping I'll be torn open

Selwyn had... no idea what he was doing.  In one hand he held a paper bag.  In the other, a rather ratty looking plant. If you could call it a plant.  Most people would probably have called it a weed.  But he'd heard she liked herbs.

Trotting obediently at his heels was Cù-sìth.  Otherwise known as his excuse.

He pointed to the ground as they came up to the shop and the Newfoundland obediently dropped to his haunches.

"Good boy," Selwyn murmured.  He'd have scratched the dog behind the ears, except he didn't have enough hands free for that.

He stepped into the Oracle.  It was lighter inside than he'd expected.  Perhaps it was just the shop's name that had planted the image of dark, dust-coated velvet in his mind.  But this place actually had some eclectic flair.  Parts of it were disturbingly reminiscent of his mother's taste.

He could not see the proprietress anywhere.  

"Madame?" he called out hesitantly.

Solstice had been working on an herbal poultice for a kneazle that had an infected leg wound. She heard someone call from the store front, so she laid aside her knife and picked up a towel to wipe her hands with as she came out of the back room.

She wasn't exactly looking the part of an oracle today. She wasn't interested in costuming. She preferred her jeans with a long, crocheted duster sweater over a printed top. Almost hidden by the top was an assortment of small natural healing stones on three fine small chains around her neck. The more noticeable necklace was the flawless double terminated master crystal. She preferred the clear, colorless quartz, but it was also a part of her work. It was just easier to wear it.

"Oh, hello," she said with a smile to the customer. She laid the towel on the countertop. "May I help you?"

Selwyn's head spun as he tried to gain his bearings. There was something terribly familiar and at the same time distastefully alien about this woman.

"Bonjour, Madame."

The greeting was out before he had time to think. His mother didn't raise spend all those years nagging him just to have it go to waste now, did she?

"Je m'appelle-" he cleared his throat. "Sorry. I mean, my name's Selwyn. I work up at the school. I was wondering if I could get my dog's claws trimmed sometime?"

That was when he belatedly remembered his gifts. Gifts, bribes, same thing, really. He flourished them probably more enthusiastically than was strictly necessary.

"I heard you like plants?"

"Nice to meet you," she said, "I'm Solstice. I'd be happy to see to your dog's claws. I could do it today for you if you'd like, if you've got the time."

She loved big dogs like this one. She didn't see Newfoundlands every day, but the few she'd seen were gentle and had seemed to have a good bond with their owners. Besides, the big dogs she'd worked with seemed to not have a need to try to assert themselves and just didn't seem to stress about their position in their households. Solstice liked almost all animals, but sometimes the hyperactive behaviors of yappy little dogs required a bit more patience. "You've got a good looking dog. I'm partial to the bigger breeds, actually."

She saw the plant he held. "I do like plants--quite a lot," she said.

He already knew who she was. It surprised him that she didn't seem to recognise him, though. Not that Selwyn expected to be recognised particularly, but he knew he kept tabs on the other veela in Britain. It seemed only prudent that they should do the same.

He thrust the ragged looking weed toward her. In some places, it really was considered a weed.

"Greater Wormwood," he said. "I'm sure you know just what to do with it."

The paper bag remained with him. It contained Veela French Roast, but since she hadn't called him out, he wasn't going to give it up just yet.

"Today would be perfect," he agreed.

(omigosh. found this again when i logged in as solstice. i am sooo sorry its so late!)

She smiled, seeing the plant. "I do indeed," she said, taking the plant. "I don't see a lot of malaria these days, but it works splendidly for a couple potions. And I have some very old formulas for some medicinal potions--not widely requested things, as it goes, except for some of the old folks who remember things used in days gone by. Still, there is a demand for it." She checked the soil to see if it needed water. It didn't. She set it on a windowsill with, at the moment, some indirect sunlight. It would have to do until later. She preferred the plant be up high, out of the reach of most of the animals that sometimes slipped out of the back, and she certainly wanted it out of the reach of customers. A few days of attention, and she felt the plant might start to bush out and fill itself in a bit more.

"Thank you," she said. "You're welcome for some tea while I trim your dog, or....no. I don't think that's maybe your style, is it?" she said, not having missed the markers he carried of the common heritage they shared. She tried not to call anyone out on what their genetics had given them, but, here, she was relatively alone. There weren't many veelas around. Not that she knew of. "Do you prefer coffee?" she asked politely. "I could put a pot on, if you want. Might be nice to warm up, especially with the snow coming."

She caught herself. Her Daily Prophet was still rolled up, untouched. She hadn't read the daily weather yet. In fact, the last five Daily Prophets were still unopened on the credenza behind her counter. She'd seen what looked like a heavy snowfall that seemed destined for either late afternoon or overnight. Last night in one of her palantirs it had seemed so clear. Explaining it to others always felt awkward if they weren't in her inner circle of those she trusted. But she had questions she wanted to ask him. Did she get the same sorts of attention and questions and suspicions that she got? How did he deal with it? She refocused on the dog.

She petted the enormous dog with one hand, while reaching into the pocket of her shop apron with the other. She laid four little training treats on the counter. Two of them were sort of pumpkin shaped,--like thick coins, and they were orange colored. The other two were shaped more like simple outlines of peanuts. "Training treats," she said. "Pumpkin Apple," she pointed to the roundish ones. "And Banana Peanut Butter. All organic, all homemade. Might I give him a couple while I trim him?"

Selwyn had no idea what the medicinal uses of the plant he'd just given her were. Herbology had never been his strong point. He hadn't even known there were medicinal uses; his thoughts had been in an entirely different direction.

Oh, damn. He hadn't thought of this. Selwyn wasn't the biggest fan of coffee, especially not the way the Veela drank it. At most, he could choke down a cup in the morning if he'd had a really rough night.

"Actually, I brought my own," he agreed, proffering the paper bag nevertheless.

Er, that was probably a bit weird to do in a tea shop.

"You can keep the leftover, of course."

He followed her outside to where Cù Sìth waited. Selwyn's lips pursed as the small treats were presented, but he supposed the woman knew what she was doing.

"Sure, but if he starts to misbehave you're still going to have to give him a flick on the muzzle," he commented.

"He should be fine, though."

"No problem at all," she smiled, taking the bag. She opened it and smelled. It had a signature all its own, and it was familiar and comforting, reminding her of home. Okay, so he might as well have hung a sign around his neck announcing his veela heritage.

"One of my all time favorites," she smiled. "This is a lovely blend of it too. I'll put it on to brew." She set the bag on the counter and flicked her wand at it to brew it.

Then she went out to address the dog and his nails, and she knelt down and put a pumpkin treat in her open palm and offered it to the large dog. She hesitated before she asked him her question, and she was relatively sure he'd understand the cloaked references. She'd always been included, more or less, with both her mother's family and her father's. The farther she got from family connections, though, the more she felt like people paid more attention to the veela part of her than the human half, as if she were a curiosity. It was disconcerting at times.

"So, tell me, do you ever feel like the odd one out?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the dog and drawing the clippers out of her pocket. "There aren't many of us. I'm not sure people always know what to do with the 'less familiar' parts of us."

Selwyn relaxed as she graciously accepted his donation. With the way the Ministry treated part humans, it was often hard to tell whether the culture had any influence in their lives at all.

As he watched Solstice work, Selwyn found himself laughing at her question. And here he'd thought he would be the one taking lessons.

"I have plenty of other reasons to be the odd one out," he admitted.

"In my experience, people think they know what to do with me and then get upset when they're wrong. I assume at least part of that has to do with my gender, though," he said.

"Gender?" she frowned for a moment and then returned to clipping the dog. "Why should anyone care about that? Oh, never mind. I should get it. People always seem to have unending armchair opinions about what they don't understand.

"I guess that's sort of why I don't hide that I'm half Romani. I embrace it, and, I admit I distort it into the stereotype to some extent. I draw the line at putting a vardo in the garden, though. If they're distracted by going to see the 'gypsy woman,' then they sort of forget that I'm half Veela. It feels a little easier for me, weird as that sounds. That, and I guess I'm more okay with that exploitation because my family knows and they're good with it."

She had had more than one discussion where her father had shaken his finger at her, rebuking her for getting her feathers ruffled, saying, "Solstice, never be ashamed of what earns you a respectable, honest wage." So far, though, being part Veela hadn't earned her a single sickle, not unless she could figure out how to set a cover charge for people coming to gawk.