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Description
Anemonae sat in her chair, playing with a curl of her hair. It was hot out—the paper said it was going to be the hottest of the summer so far—and it had been a very long time since the old canvas tent had provided any shade. She considered herself retired, and spent her days selling potions to "witches" and the like, people who thought they knew something about magic. They weren't dangerous, or even particularly potent—they had just enough punch to keep the ignorant regulars coming back.
A little bell rang in the front of the shop, and Anemonae looked up from a cooling charm she was enchanting to see a man in a black cloak walk through the door flap. She looked back down, with a halfhearted "Welcome." The man wandered around the store, poking around the jewelry and little glass jars, eventually making his way to the red-haired twenty-something and leaning over her.
"Can I help you with something?" She looked up from her charm again. "I've got some of my most popular… items…"
"I didn't think you a snake oil saleswoman, Anemonae." The man smiled as Anemonae recognized him. "You can make stronger stuff than this."
"Zephyr!" The girl jumped up from her chair and hugged him tightly around the neck. "It's been such a long time—what are you doing here?"
"I heard there was a pretty girl selling potions around here, so I decided to check it out. Do you know who that might be?"
She shoved him away, laughing. "You're such a cad, Zephyr. Seriously, how did you get here? And what's with the getup?"
"You seem to have quite a few customers who dress like this. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself."
"Shorts and a T-shirt would be fine. You must be dying."
"Dying to see you, maybe."
"Stop it. What would Sarah say?"
Zephyr suddenly grew somber. "That's… why I'm here."
"Oh, no…" Anemonae knew that he wouldn't have traveled so far unless it was terribly serious. Sarah was an old friend of hers—"from a past life," as she would say—and few of Anemonae's old friends were still alive.
"She's dying, Anemonae. She slips further and further away every single day… Our healers say there's nothing they can do, that there's nothing anyone can do." Zephyr looked into Anemonae's eyes with a sort of desperate ferocity. "But I know they're wrong. You've still got the Scythe, don't you?"
"O-of course." She waved her hand over the middle of the room, and a plain wooden box revealed itself. White light spilled from the cracks in the wood as she opened it and pulled out a magnificent weapon: the Scythe of Life. She handed the elegant white Scythe to Zephyr with a soft smile. "Don't worry. It'll know what to do. Your wife will be fine—come back with one of her cakes when she recovers, alright?"
Zephyr nodded, a look of apprehension on his face.
"I promise she'll be better in no time, no matter what's wrong with her. You know that." Anemonae turned around, looking through a small bookshelf behind the counter. "I don't know how you got here, but I can get you home pretty damn quick." She found the book she was looking for. "Just sit tight, and I'll…"
He was gone.
And he had taken the Scythe.

Description
Anemonae sat in her chair, playing with a curl of her hair. It was hot out—the paper said it was going to be the hottest of the summer so far—and it had been a very long time since the old canvas tent had provided any shade. She considered herself retired, and spent her days selling potions to "witches" and the like, people who thought they knew something about magic. They weren't dangerous, or even particularly potent—they had just enough punch to keep the ignorant regulars coming back.
A little bell rang in the front of the shop, and Anemonae looked up from a cooling charm she was enchanting to see a man in a black cloak walk through the door flap. She looked back down, with a halfhearted "Welcome." The man wandered around the store, poking around the jewelry and little glass jars, eventually making his way to the red-haired twenty-something and leaning over her.
"Can I help you with something?" She looked up from her charm again. "I've got some of my most popular… items…"
"I didn't think you a snake oil saleswoman, Anemonae." The man smiled as Anemonae recognized him. "You can make stronger stuff than this."
"Zephyr!" The girl jumped up from her chair and hugged him tightly around the neck. "It's been such a long time—what are you doing here?"
"I heard there was a pretty girl selling potions around here, so I decided to check it out. Do you know who that might be?"
She shoved him away, laughing. "You're such a cad, Zephyr. Seriously, how did you get here? And what's with the getup?"
"You seem to have quite a few customers who dress like this. I didn't want to draw any attention to myself."
"Shorts and a T-shirt would be fine. You must be dying."
"Dying to see you, maybe."
"Stop it. What would Sarah say?"
Zephyr suddenly grew somber. "That's… why I'm here."
"Oh, no…" Anemonae knew that he wouldn't have traveled so far unless it was terribly serious. Sarah was an old friend of hers—"from a past life," as she would say—and few of Anemonae's old friends were still alive.
"She's dying, Anemonae. She slips further and further away every single day… Our healers say there's nothing they can do, that there's nothing anyone can do." Zephyr looked into Anemonae's eyes with a sort of desperate ferocity. "But I know they're wrong. You've still got the Scythe, don't you?"
"O-of course." She waved her hand over the middle of the room, and a plain wooden box revealed itself. White light spilled from the cracks in the wood as she opened it and pulled out a magnificent weapon: the Scythe of Life. She handed the elegant white Scythe to Zephyr with a soft smile. "Don't worry. It'll know what to do. Your wife will be fine—come back with one of her cakes when she recovers, alright?"
Zephyr nodded, a look of apprehension on his face.
"I promise she'll be better in no time, no matter what's wrong with her. You know that." Anemonae turned around, looking through a small bookshelf behind the counter. "I don't know how you got here, but I can get you home pretty damn quick." She found the book she was looking for. "Just sit tight, and I'll…"
He was gone.
And he had taken the Scythe.