Coffee and Breathing Room
How do you measure joy? What is the worth of a shared dream? Which is the right amount to pay for satisfaction? So many questions in her head, too many for one young woman to answer. Some day she would find answers to them but in this moment … they still seemed far away.
It was quiet now inside The Nocturne, now, that even the VIP patrons had left after having slept in their rooms.
Jeraiel, still in her pyjamas, was sweeping the entrance hall of the Nocturne during the next morning. Her thoughts drifted from one memory to another, were thrown into chaos by an abundance of unfinished conversations and caused great disarray in her troubled mind.
She bumped into someone standing behind her, spun around and looked up at the tall, tough woman that was Remidia who offered her a smile warmer than any hearthfire could ever burn. “Are we drifting off into our own little dream worlds again, Jera?” The draenei woman asked, caressing Jeraiel’s hair and sorting out the bed head of the Nocturne’s owner.
Jeraiel yawned, longing for a cup of coffee, as she leaned onto the broom. “Oh, you know, I don’t believe that my dreams are as colorful as our actual life, but they give me time to prepare for the real deal!” She nodded to herself. “I’ll finish this in a bit, want a cup, too, Remmy?”
“I do not mind. Did you enjoy last night?” The tall Remidia responded, walking back toward the kitchen counter.
A pair of glasses rested on top of the kitchen counter, a black cat meowed and darted out of the kitchen into the dining room. Jeraiel frowned and eyed Remidia, but she simply shook her head and shrugged.
Jeraiel snuck into the kitchen, carefully avoiding to step onto the sleeping human girl named Bridget, who was also called ‘Clips’, and Glelda, the Gnome woman who worked as a bouncer and telemancer for the inn.
They were still deep inside of their very own dream worlds, leaning against the back of the kitchen counter, snoring from time to time. “No… we do not have… strawberry chocolate… shakes…” Bridget muttered in her sleep. Glelda agreed with a noise which could only be described as humpf.
After a little while, Jera returned to the kitchen counter, sat down next to Remidia on one of the bar stools and presented her with a steaming cup of coffee.
“You looked quite exhausted last night, Jera, are you sure you don’t want to sleep in any longer?” Remidia asked, worried.
“I’ve rested enough, I’ve got too much to take care of. Promised Earl van Rook and Lady Rowley that I’d take their breath away during the next opening, and I forgot to properly advertise Mardock Blackhammer and his business as well as Miss Khari, the wonderful fashionista, so I will definitely have to keep track of that… it was my mistake and it was not supposed to happen, so …” Jera drifted off, sighing softly as she sipped on her still hot coffee, blowing cool air onto it.
“I am sure things will work out, Miss Khari certainly told Mister Blackhammer that it was just a mistake due to letters not being perfectly clear and all that, Jera.”
“I know, I know… I’ll still do my best to make it up to them. They are wonderful and important, sponsors of our inn and all that.” She sulked for a while.
Jeraiel eyed two aprons neatly folded on one of the bar stools. “I hope Faelean and Cair got home safely. We really need to meet up for a get together outside the inn some time.”
“We will, don’t you worry, Jera. Now, take a breather and enjoy your morning. It was another wonderful success, I am sure of it. Later on, I will have the 40 gold coins - revenue of last night, including parts of the patron contributions - delivered to the Suramar animal shelter for endangered wild life.” Remidia nodded, smiling at the little boss woman by her side.
“Thanks, Remmy, and I’ll start drafting plans for the next opening night, then. Need to speak to Miss Rakihu Gorelash for that matter and her business proposal, uh-huh.” She finished her coffee and got up, stretching.
“You never ever rest for long, do you, Jera?” Remidia’s smile became as soft as a mother’s smile for her child.
“I don’t like running out of time, but I like running, uh-huh!” With these words, she was about to leave the inn, only to be stopped by a tail wrapping itself around her waist.
“We can’t do business in pyjamas, can we now, Jera?” Remidia mused.
“Watch me. No. Wait, probably a bad idea. Uh-huh, you are right. Time to find my socks.” Jeraiel responded, nodding as she dashed toward the changing rooms upstairs.
“And actual pants, a shirt, and a belt, Jera. Pants, shirt, belt. Don’t forget! No pyjamas outside the inn!” Those were the last words of Remidia.
Not her last, but, they were rather important and probably, actually, quite good last words, Jera thought, narrating herself as she ascended the stairs.
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We plan to open again in April!