The shop had been open for a good three years now, and Caoimhe was entirely proud of the reputation she'd built up. The year before she'd managed to get her hands on an adjacent property and grow a little further, put in some more displays and even a small, fake river that now ran diagonally through the middle of the shop, with a small, rustic wooden bridge uniting the two halves, much like the one at her parents' house in up-state New York. The waif thin woman loved watching people's expressions when they came in to the shop, confusion, bewilderment and then a genuine smile for most. But it wasn't just the river that brought that out of them, it was the explosion of colours, the vibrancy of the scene that greeted them once past the door. Of course part of the side walk outside her window was adorned with buckets of flowers and several arrangements, but that was nothing compared to what awaited over the threshold.

Curling her fingers around the freshly brewed mug of green tea, the dark haired woman leaned against the frame of the door, watching the city wake up around her. It was early morning, a fresh breeze wound its way down West 15th street, and at the other end of the shop she could hear people - probably other business owners at this hour - walking along the wood floored, covered alleyway linking the other Chelsea Market shops together. Out on the street, precious little moved, and Caoimhe sighed softly. Inside her mind, Keres uncoiled and shrugged uncaringly at the world around her Host 'Why do you even bother? You're dying.' The slender woman licked her lips and shook her head absently, watching the world around her without bothering to answer. This was an old argument, and she still had the same answer, much to Keres annoyance.

Caoimhe's days were numbered, she would enjoy them as much as she could.

Lying to people bothered Ozma, but only a little bit. All in all, she spoke the truth to those who talked to her. When it came to things like parents and what she did with her days, well, that was a lie. Ozma didn't go to any kind of school and she wasn't home schooled. There were no parents on the Thirteenth Floor for her, no one that she called 'mother' or 'father'. It didn't bother her though, she was old enough to understand that she was the the only Pastoria left. The lies were important though, even Ozma wasn't exempt to the laws of Fabletown. There was no telling what the Mundies were do if they found out that all those little fables that they were told as children now walked among them. The blue eyed girl was sure that she would probably be bothered by all those little Wizard Of Oz nuts int he world or people who wanted something from her. Secrecy was safe.

It was early and like most early mornings when she couldn't sleep, she walked. Her hands were shoved in her pockets as Ozma went down the street, looking this way and that, watching as people around her went about their business. New York would never be home to her, even if she had been there for quite some time. Oz was her home, the true Emerald City was where she longed to be. There's no place like home.

A she went on her way she noticed the flower shop that the girl Caoimhe had mentioned she owned. Carefully looking both ways, the twelve year old girl began to walk across the street, until a sudden a honk caused her to stop. Sure, she was jaywalking, but no one was close to her, at least she thought no one was close to her. The car stopped in time, almost hitting the girl. Ozma's brows furrowed together and she slammed her hands on the hood on the taxi, "Hey! I'm walking here ass! Do you mind?" The man shouted at her and she moved from the street, noticing that Caoimhe was in the door of her shop. "Morning Caoimhe, such a lovely day in New York." She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing slightly in the process. Ozma hated New York. Hated, hated, hated.

Wearing

Cassie hadn’t decided what she thought of New York yet. Most of the time, her haunt of choice was over on the other side of the continental US of A, back in San Francisco, but she’d decided it was time for a change of pace and place. So, the blonde girl had packed up for a couple of weeks and sold some of Mommy Dearest’s stuff to pay for a trip over to New York on the grounds that it was about as far as she could get from home in the US. Well. Not quite true. She could have gone south, spent some time down in Florida or wherever, improving her tan, but this time she was going with New York. She’d been there two days now and Cassie, oddly for her, was still making up her mind on her opinion. But it definitely wasn’t boring and that was promising.

Unlike most kids her age, she was up bright and early... probably a little earlier than she’d have liked, but she’d slept well and experience told her she wasn’t getting back to sleep. So Cassie had got up and decided to work up an appetite for breakfast – going for a jog. She could do her exercise for the day early – not, she’d noticed, that she’d needed so much since picking up her gauntlets. And then she could go and have fun. Not that she really knew what that meant, but mostly Cassie was happy to drift around. There was nothing to do, nowhere to be... basically, she could do what she liked, when she liked and she wasn’t about to stop now.

So, that was what brought Cassie to that particular part of Manhattan. As with most things, she just went where the mood took her, trusting in her instincts and new found strength in case she got mugged or something, but this time her feet had led her to Chelsea. It was still pretty early, which meant there weren’t that many people for her to dodge around as her feet drummed out a regular rhythm on the pavement. It was surprisingly nice, really, even if she’d have been just as happy with a little more life around the place.

Finding herself at a crossing point, Cassie jogged over it, finding herself in the shadow of the Chelsea Market building. Well. She was here to look around, after all. Wiping a bead or two of sweat from her forehead (despite having jogged for no short distance, her new gifts included increased endurance as well as everything else) and barely breathing hard, the athletic blonde headed for the nearest entrance. Dressed in a tank top and tight, full length jogging pants, she probably wouldn’t have stood out that much to any onlookers for anything other than her striking looks if it weren’t for the bronze gauntlets encircling her wrists and forearms.

But then Cassie didn’t go anywhere without them.

Inside, she glanced around, seeing that it was quieter in here than out there. There was a younger girl stood talking to a woman by the door to one of the shops and, on a whim, she wandered over towards them, thinking to peer into the window maybe.

A loud honk jarred Caoimhe from her silent contemplation, and she turned her head towards the noise, only to see a slim, tiny figure in green making her way across the street, throwing insults at the driver who'd apparently gotten in her way. The dark haired woman smiled, bemused, as she wondered at the tenacity of the girl - Ozma - who now approached her with a disgruntled look on her face that both Keres and Caoimhe had seen umpteen times before. It was that look of the foreigner, an out-of-stater that simply hadn't come to terms with the beauty New York had to offer yet. Well, there was always time. For most people, at least.

"Morning Ozma - a lovely day it is," where the girl's words might not have rung exactly true, Caoimhe's did. Then again, she would probably love next to everything if it annoyed Keres. Small things helped her bear the losses and the taste of defeat that often rose up to choke her, a coppery evil slime that coated her tongue and turned her lips downwards. Today, however, she wasn't going to let Keres get the better of her... in the back of her mind the Death Spirit rolled over sluggishly with a look that said 'oh really now?' It appeared the gauntlet had been laid down. "You look like you could do with getting in off the street - want a drink? I have tea, coffee, mineral water.. you name, it, I probably have it."

Another young girl approached and Caoimhe's eyebrow sloped upwards briefly before she smiled an easy greeting, "Welcome to Flower to the People - feel free to come on in and take a look around. Feed the fish, but not with your toes. They don't like that overly much." the willowy woman grinned, stepping aside from the door frame and motioning the two girls into the shop.

It appeared it was a day for strays.

It wasn't that Ozma was a foreigner, at least, that's what she told people. Born and raised in New York City. The blonde mage had been in the city for hundreds of years, she would think she'd get use to people trying to hit her with cars by now. It was the fact of it, someone was walking but yet you didn't want to slow down. Sure, it wasn't a crosswalk, but who cared really? It was much quicker than going half way down the block and circling around. Ozma wouldn't try to hit someone if they crossed. Slow down a bit or mumble under her breath, sure. But hit the pedal to speed up? Talk about rude.

It really was a lovely day. The sun was just starting to rise a good bit in the New York sky, not too hot and not too cold. The smell of the flowers from Caoimhe's shop wafted into Ozma's nose, calming her down a bit. Her lips twisted to the side and she pulled on one of the blonde curls that was draped over her shoulder, tilting her head slightly back and forth as if she was thinking of what she wanted. Being stuck in a child's body sucked at times. She couldn't get into any good clubs, would never be allowed to drink legally and had a city issued curfew. Not to mention she'd never get to drive or actually have a real relationship that went past more than punching each other in the arm and stealing their fries. "Probably. I guess since I'm a kid I'd make a good speed bump or something." She gave a small frown. It wasn't that the girl was expected to be treated like the royalty that she was, at least, once upon a time she was. Ozma just wanted the normal treatment everyone else received. "A drink would be nice. Coffee sounds really good right now."

Ozma smiled brightly at the woman who walked up, giving her a wave and bouncing slightly on her toes, almost being hit by a car completely gone from her head. She loved flowers, which was the main reason why she decided to stop by the shop. When she was still in Oz, the circlet that she wore on her head always had fresh flowers attached to it on the sides, since her and her many friends would wander about the city, talking to everyone. "She has a pond inside, which is pretty darn cool." Ozma gave a serious nod, the blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders. "Good morning, by the way." The child spoke to the woman, giving her another bright smile before walking into the shop, making her way to the first flowers that caught her eye and bent her head forward, smelling them.