Information
Sarcelle
Legacy Name: Sarcelle
The
Angelic DarkoniteOwner:
WendigoAge: 14 years
Born: May 19th, 2010
Adopted: 9 years, 4 months, 4 weeks ago
Adopted: December 20th, 2014
Statistics
- Level: 10
- Strength: 11
- Defense: 12
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 2
- Books Read: 1
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Patty Flipper
To get this over with: yes, I work at a bookstore. Always have, always will.
My mother dropped me here on her way to work, usually griping about how often my father refused to watch me and ignored my necessities until I started yelling with all my might. Even then, he'd usually drop a TV dinner in my hands and return to whatever it was he did- read the news, watch the news, and sleep. Sooner or later, my mother refused to deal with him and filed the divorce papers. Sadly, a one-parent household couldn't sustain my growth, so I needed a place to rest and relax as she worked away double shifts. No better place than a place full of books. New ones. Not run-down ones from the library.
With how much I frequented the place, it was a miracle the owner didn't kick me out onto the streets to fend for myself. Honestly, it looked as though he could use the company, the poor sap that he was. I was hardly a teen once he sprung the idea of working there upon me. Why me? Maybe it was because I knew the location of almost every book, author, genre, and so on by that point. Might as well make money off of it all. Plus, if I could help my mother in any way, I would.
There's not much with being an employee here. There's coffee breaks, disgruntled customers that demand discounts on novels a bit out of their price range, and more coffee breaks. A couple others worked here, though I normally stuck around until closing. Sometimes after. Summertime, usually stayed from dawn 'till dusk; during school, I didn't go home to the empty apartment. Did all my studying for tests there, normally while manning the cashier, since the rest of the staff could handle the floor and other register. Told me to keep on truckin', I'll get to a better job someday, but in reality- there wasn't anything else out there for me. Not even college appealed.
This bookstore's more than that to me; it's a family, a home, and more welcoming than anything else. Well- until a new customer walked through those wooden doors.
--------------------------------
There was no way I could miss her. Brightest pink hair the world has ever seen, white shoes making her look as though she were from an anime- and how could I forget the diner outfit. She looked as though she made strawberry milkshakes as "accidents" in the kitchen to hoard for herself on breaks. Y'know, because she was so pink. Anyway.
Looking as though she were let off from a tiring shift, that girl slugged her way through and toward the "do-it-yourself" books- recipes? Maybe knick-knacks? I couldn't tell, but one of the other employees must've caught me staring, 'cause she didn't. Coworker Franz must've gotten a kick out of it, since he was rustling my hair and giving me the craziest smirk. "Look a lil' lost there. Cat got yer tongue?" He always was a tease, and I repaid the notion by stomping on his foot. Decent retaliation, if you ask me. It caused a yelp of alarm, but he laid off the subject, especially since she was in line now and heading in his direction.
Managed to hold my gaze away from her and back to- what was it again? Oh. In the middle of reading those fighting wild housecat books that those young kids were talking about earlier. Easy reads, but the consistencies weren't there at all. I think I remember one of these cats being female in an earlier book-
"Ooh, I remember those." What? I looked up, there she was, and I couldn't even ask what she was talking about. "That first series was really gruesome. Cats don't usually fight with tooth-and-claw either; hissing works the best." She mused about the concept of fighting cats while I put down the book, Ice and Fire I think, and ask in one of the blandest tones imaginable: "Can I help you?"
"Wha- oh, no. Just commenting. G'night." Soon enough, in the span of maybe ten seconds, she was out the door. Maybe she was afraid of me? Some kids don't like the way I look- some adults make grunts at my dark attire as well. Not my fault that I couldn't rock a dress or heels like some could. Besides, I'm comfortable. Wait- off topic.
She looked as though I stepped on her foot instead of Franz, and while I wanted to apologize- she was already gone, with a DIY book on crocheting. Well, I certainly felt stupid.
My mother dropped me here on her way to work, usually griping about how often my father refused to watch me and ignored my necessities until I started yelling with all my might. Even then, he'd usually drop a TV dinner in my hands and return to whatever it was he did- read the news, watch the news, and sleep. Sooner or later, my mother refused to deal with him and filed the divorce papers. Sadly, a one-parent household couldn't sustain my growth, so I needed a place to rest and relax as she worked away double shifts. No better place than a place full of books. New ones. Not run-down ones from the library.
With how much I frequented the place, it was a miracle the owner didn't kick me out onto the streets to fend for myself. Honestly, it looked as though he could use the company, the poor sap that he was. I was hardly a teen once he sprung the idea of working there upon me. Why me? Maybe it was because I knew the location of almost every book, author, genre, and so on by that point. Might as well make money off of it all. Plus, if I could help my mother in any way, I would.
There's not much with being an employee here. There's coffee breaks, disgruntled customers that demand discounts on novels a bit out of their price range, and more coffee breaks. A couple others worked here, though I normally stuck around until closing. Sometimes after. Summertime, usually stayed from dawn 'till dusk; during school, I didn't go home to the empty apartment. Did all my studying for tests there, normally while manning the cashier, since the rest of the staff could handle the floor and other register. Told me to keep on truckin', I'll get to a better job someday, but in reality- there wasn't anything else out there for me. Not even college appealed.
This bookstore's more than that to me; it's a family, a home, and more welcoming than anything else. Well- until a new customer walked through those wooden doors.
--------------------------------
There was no way I could miss her. Brightest pink hair the world has ever seen, white shoes making her look as though she were from an anime- and how could I forget the diner outfit. She looked as though she made strawberry milkshakes as "accidents" in the kitchen to hoard for herself on breaks. Y'know, because she was so pink. Anyway.
Looking as though she were let off from a tiring shift, that girl slugged her way through and toward the "do-it-yourself" books- recipes? Maybe knick-knacks? I couldn't tell, but one of the other employees must've caught me staring, 'cause she didn't. Coworker Franz must've gotten a kick out of it, since he was rustling my hair and giving me the craziest smirk. "Look a lil' lost there. Cat got yer tongue?" He always was a tease, and I repaid the notion by stomping on his foot. Decent retaliation, if you ask me. It caused a yelp of alarm, but he laid off the subject, especially since she was in line now and heading in his direction.
Managed to hold my gaze away from her and back to- what was it again? Oh. In the middle of reading those fighting wild housecat books that those young kids were talking about earlier. Easy reads, but the consistencies weren't there at all. I think I remember one of these cats being female in an earlier book-
"Ooh, I remember those." What? I looked up, there she was, and I couldn't even ask what she was talking about. "That first series was really gruesome. Cats don't usually fight with tooth-and-claw either; hissing works the best." She mused about the concept of fighting cats while I put down the book, Ice and Fire I think, and ask in one of the blandest tones imaginable: "Can I help you?"
"Wha- oh, no. Just commenting. G'night." Soon enough, in the span of maybe ten seconds, she was out the door. Maybe she was afraid of me? Some kids don't like the way I look- some adults make grunts at my dark attire as well. Not my fault that I couldn't rock a dress or heels like some could. Besides, I'm comfortable. Wait- off topic.
She looked as though I stepped on her foot instead of Franz, and while I wanted to apologize- she was already gone, with a DIY book on crocheting. Well, I certainly felt stupid.
Pet Treasure
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Trans Pride Flag