The Writer and the Designated Sorcerer

Chapter 2. Luis, Yule Cats, and Memories - Oh My!

Willa legitimately knew nothing about how the trio got here. Seriously, the writer came to accept the fact that, going from this point on, the rules flew rather quickly out the window.

Or perhaps they were thrown out the window?

Either way, that hardly mattered as she looked back to the closet door she had stepped through only an hour and a half before. Her best guess of how this all worked was definitely not a stellar one. The closet door had gone from a portal that glowed with a pastel-purple-tinted white light to a normal closet filled with winter coats, denim jackets, and a high-powered vacuum cleaner. Willa blinked owlishly when the transition happened, but preferred to stay silent while furiously typing notes in her phone.

(Thank Morgana that her phone still worked.)

Still, Willa found herself standing rather uncomfortably in a small kitchen in a relatively cozy apartment. When she tried to move out of the way, her small figure still ended up in another person's way, which was absurd but par for the course when one considered the New Jersey housing market.

"Willa, do you like your sauce spicy, mild, or no spice at all?" The tallest person in the room asked in an attempt at being a good host. His deep brown eyes reminded Willa of chocolate, and his aura exuded some type of homey feeling that Willa felt something twist in the pit of her stomach.

"Uh, mild?" She answered rather timidly. The bright redhead thought mild would be the best choice, because no spice at all made a sauce rather bland... and she learned from experience what too much crushed red pepper did to her insides.

The tall man nodded quickly before doling out the spices to each bowl. He was Theo, and he wore a matching ring on his left hand to Wynona.

When Willa took a quick exit to the blue living room, she allowed herself some precious silence to observe the pair. Granted she couldn't make much sense of things as she shifted from foot to foot to expend the extra anxious energy. Her apparently married heroine lived in a rather modest apartment. Wynona's deep red hair shed much like Willa's own, so there were traces of Wynona scattered throughout the apartment. Theo tended to dominate the bookshelves with Russian authors, classic philosophers, and eighteenth-century poets.

At least the aspiring author assumed it was Theo, Wynona didn't come across as the type to have any patience for any of the books that lined the living room shelving.

Willa assumed Wynona would probably be written all over the movie collection though — if they had one that was.

Bauble sat down across from her on one of the larger chairs in the room.

Willa still had no clue how to process the existence of the Goblin King, or the domesticity that Wynona preoccupied herself with in the other room.

"I find it amazing that the Writer finds me unnerving," Bauble began as he unlatched his cufflinks to loosen his jacket.

"To be fair, I wasn't expecting any of this," Willa replied in an effort to keep her voice calm.

Bauble let out a sinister-sounding chuckle that showcased all of his teeth. He stared her down with a feral grin and such an impossibly rod-straight posture that it sent shivers down Willa's spine.

"No one ever does."

Willa restrained the gulp from the ominous sound of Bauble's final statement before he sunk rather regally into the large suede chair. Instead she turned her attention to the fluffy cat that curled itself up by the heater. It seemed nice enough as it dozed, seemingly oblivious to its surroundings.