Jori Collections: 2017-2021

(10.27.17) Love Potion #9 - M, 14.2k [F*]

["We might be the master of our own thoughts, still we are the slaves of our own emotions..." -Unknown]

Clouds began to caress the sky blandly, soft, grey eyes looking upon them, uninterested. Birds fluttered passed, narrowly avoiding the rocking of the grand Ferris Wheel as couples and small families overlooked the pier. His gaze wandered towards the blinking lights of the several booths, teeth grinding at the deceptive - as he'd call it - booths with stereotypical gypsies in long shawls settling themselves down for their wallets and purses to have a great, upcoming feast. The lanky teen twisted around, smiling appreciatively at the rather larger tent stocked full of book cases, tables and shelves with their temporary supporting walls; all circled about a rounded table, several instruments set to the ground whilst a great, silver sphere sat in its proper place.

"Roger?" called a weathered voice - though strong when she had wanted it to with a belt or sandal in her palms - from the side entrance, "Have you cleaned the- Oh, goodness, you did."

"Yeah," Roger shrugged meekly, "I did auntie. Did you see Albert by chance?"

A woman with great, wise eyes glanced over her shoulder, strong features softened with age and long, curled raven hair streaked with grey to white. "Well I wouldn't expect him to be later... He did, after all, pass his driving test, right?" she hummed quietly, the boy scowling, hair running through his lengthy, dark blue hair. "Now do you need any money for the games?"

"Maybe tomorrow," he mumbled, leaning against a supporting pillar - as it was a decent sized tent - thin lips pursed. Roger glanced up towards the small rack of bottled liquids along the highest shelf before him, eyes settling on a dismal, beer-bottle brown glass flask.

"Alright...now don't go messing around with too many potions, I still need some for the shop, alright?" the aunt fixed her necklace, eyebrow arched. "I said, 'alright?'" she barked sternly.

Abruptly shaking, Roger widened his eyes. "Yes- Yeah, yeah, of course, Aunt Ruby... I wouldn't want to do anything too serious," he grinned, a scrawled #9 written in his mind. The woman only pursed her lips, her skeptical stare lingering on the boy as he fidgeted. Her eyes glanced towards the flask just observed before, the label burning in her skull.

"You aren't thinking about Nine are you?" she asked quietly, Roger shaking his head. Before his jaw could slacken, she continued, "I've told you before, now... Don't go messing with that potion, it's the most powerful on the rack. Never mess with human emotions because you mess with their mind, making their desires - if they're already there - unbearable for a normal human. Even worse for one who dwells in their own thoughts enough-"

"I know Aunt Ruby..." he groaned, emerald eyes growing sharp.

"Uh, no, you don't because you were just thinking about messing around with that shit, Roger! How many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped, "Those ones on the top shelf are for those souls who need to be redirected in life or are that inadequate to find a partner or just focus! Now, as I've said before, don't use that on somebody who you only think is or isn't. The fact of the matter, 'Love Doctor,' is that our line of work is based on perception, not for your entertainment."

Raising a brow, the teen scoffed. "Yeah, well what about that guy you sent to jail?" he whined, "They even made a song about it!"

"And he became one of the most influential people to get people to stop and think; I've been doing this for five-hundred years, Roger, and there'll be triple that more until I'm retired," she finished strenuously.

Rolling his eyes, Roger shuffled back towards the slit in the curtain, a quick grin spreading across his face. "Hey Albert! Over here!" he waved, the incoming guest grinning cheekily with stark, blue eyes clashing violently with his sleek, grey hair.