Strawberry Stone

Rainy Treehouse

TW: Intrusive thoughts

"Wisteria, my dear, it's been so long!" Miss Archer's strong voice boomed across the shop.

"Hello!" Wisteria cheered back.

Miss Archer was an actual unit. She was 6"6 in height, and had long, silky brown bramble hair. She wore a paler aqua island cyan and white checkered dress, with an indian tan brown apron on top, and a pair of matching boots.

It was dark outside: the clouds had darkened, the rain hitting the town even harder. Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the landscape for a split second before disappearing again. The dark concrete of the street was stained a darker color than usual, and had turned into a sort of mirror for the forest to admire its canopy.

Miss Archer's shop was a small building, a few hundred meters from town: the closest one to Wisteria's house, which was two kilometers of winding, dark tarmac, through the pines. And then, it was another half kilometer to reach the beginning of town.

It was an old cottage. Its walls were made of darkened and weathered bricks, and its roof of bright red stage orange roof tiles. A white and japanese laurel green striped awning had been attached to the front, and a large oak porch with wooden chairs had been installed. The front door was a beautiful painted one, with swirls of monza red, buttercup yellow and cornflower blue color. The inside was made up of one large room, where a bar and a few tables had been placed. Shelves behind the bar held up both ingredients and decorative items, along with amazingly complicated objects that were reminiscent of a tavern in a fantasy story. A doorway sectioned the room off from the rest of the house, a wooden staircase visible from the room.

The atmosphere was amazing: it was immersive, and the entire idea was to make you feel like you were in a fantasy novel. It worked tremendously well, notably with the D&D squad who met up there every Sunday, at 7:30 in the morning. Kind of like a religious group, except with D&D.

The group was, in fact, there. They were six in total, all gathered around a huge table. The group was a bit bigger than that, but they were all high schoolers, and not all had the permission of their parents to go out on a rainy day like that one.

The DM was a cheery fellow named Mark. He was an absolute unit of a person, coming in at 6"7. His hair was fluffy, and dyed a san felix green, his black roots starting to grow out. He wore a pair of rectangular glasses, with a golden frame. His clothes were normal: black jeans, white long-sleeve with a black and white checkered sleeveless sweater on top, and a pair of gulf blue high-tops.

"Heyo Wisteria!" Mark waved, a huge smile on his face.

"Yooo!" Wisteria waved back, smiling widely.

"I'm assuming you're here for the delivery?" Miss Archer asked, and Wisteria nodded. Miss Archer slid into the hallway behind.

"You guys sent any letters lately?" Wisteria asked, casually bringing up the subject.

"Ummm.... I don't think so?" Mark answered, arcing and eyebrow. "Y'all did anything?" He turned to the group.

"Nah, fam, I ain't done nothin. Redna understands boundaries, my man." Alex, or 'Redna' in the game, answered, giving a peace sign. The four others gave noises of agreement.

"Huh." Wisteria shrugged. She turned back to the counter, just as Miss Archer came back in. She put the basket down on the counter: it was a classic basket, made up of long strips of wood twisted together, with a monza red and white checkered cover on top. It was hefty, but not enough to snap Wisteria's arms in half.

"Alright with taking that back up by yourself?" Miss Archer asked, subtly poiting outside at the pouring rain.

"Yup!" Wisteria nodded, and reached forward for the basket. She slid it off the counter, and 'oof'ed at the sudden weight pulling her arms down.
"You sure? I can walk you back with my bike." The screech of a chair came, and Mark was behind Wisteria.
"Yeah, yeah!" Wisteria gave him a smile, closing her eyes. She waved her hand at him in a dismissive manner, and walked over to the door, stumbling a few times with the weight of the basket.