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Evie
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The apothecary had been operating on bare bones for a while now, as she had been hiding away and grieving in the Wordsworth manor. However, after her encounter with Abasi in the Infirmary, Evie had fiercely devoted herself to getting the shop back into pristine shape. Sometimes it hurt, running her fingers over the familiar inked labels or dusting off the shelves. It reminded her of Maea, of one of the few semi-positive encounters she'd had with Sam outside of their childhood home. There were a few ghosts to contend with, but Evie had soldiered on beneath the weight of the memories. Until finally, as charming as it had been when they first set about building it up, the Apothecary was open once more.
Evie finds herself sleeping on the cot in the back more than at the manor. It gives her a crick in her back sometimes, but the independence it gives her is worth the aches and pains. Her anxiety lessens with each day she spends outside the oppressive walls of her former home. There is nobody to lie to here, as most people come looking for extracts and ointments, not the healing she has to conceal when she works in the Infirmary. Though many know her to be capable of diagnosing and healing, if only by word of mouth and the intrinsic knowledge of those born and raised in Caido, they usually sought out the College, Phoebe, or the publically aware Abandoned with healing magic. Evie did her best to ensure that would never be her. Even if it meant holding this secret until her dying day. It's a new day in the shop just like any other, grinding up herbs and stockpiling as much as she can in a fever-state before LongNight. This certainly wasn't her first rodeo, and she was mostly focusing on poultices for wounds and tinctures to keep them healthy with rations and weather against them. A voice calls through the doorway and startles her, nearly dropping the little bowl in her hands before thrusts it back onto the counter. Sweeping the vibrant red strands that had fallen from her bun back out of her face, Evie wipes her hands on her apron and turns to inspect her newest customer. Loren. The name is vaguely familiar, in the way a neighbor can sort of recall the name of someone down the lane. "I'm Evie," she confirms, smiling welcomingly and waving him inside. "Come on in, what can I help you with?" Curiosity gnaws at her, wondering why her brain is nagging at her that something is kind of familiar, but she'd rather take care of whatever business Loren needed than start interrogating him about his life. For now. don't let one be you |
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