Madeline plopped herself down on a stump and peered up at her finished handiwork, the ornate wooden sign for the Nonsense Cafe, which was, in point of fact, an Inn. Removing her tall, pointy black hat, she pulled a rather large slice of watermelon from inside before setting the hat down next to her. Taking a large first bite, she sighed a juicy sigh. Magic was hard work, all that waving your hands around and remembering things. She would have to remember to take more breaks. Definitely. Moving forward she would take one break after starting a task, and ADDITIONAL break after half-completing the task, and then her usual break just before completing a task, possibly the most important break of them all.

So long had she been magicing and breaking that the sun had almost set behind the marshmallow puff mountains and their marshmallow puffs. Snatching up her hat and taking only a few more bites of her watermelon, she threw the rind over her shoulder and gasped. It was almost time!

Raising her juicy hands and pointing her melony fingers, Madeline took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Waving her fingers, the hundred of purple bell flowers surrounding the hand-carved sign illuminated with a soft yellow light. Slowly the light spread to the blooms encircling the roof of the squat, cozy little wooden building. It had been difficult, finding a tree from which to carve the cafe in its wholeness. Some had suggested using MULTIPLE pieces of wood, but Madeline wasn't the type to give up and cut corners so easily. She eventually found one that suited her needs ... thought the locals had been a bit upset.

Elves can be so temperamental.

She'd carved day and night (with adequate breaks) until the whole thing was finished. She'd almost gone mad carving opening doors and lookie-through windows until she'd figured out the secret; alchemy. Now it stood ready, all that was needed was a customer ... and possibly some ingredients. In her haste to decorate, she'd forgotten about ingredients.

And decorate she certainly had ... admittedly a good portion of it NOT hand-carved. The interior, which seems ever-so-much larger than the exterior might lead one to believe, is rich in colours found in the night sky, over a background of, you guessed it, wood. It can host an infinite number of guests, plus 1, in its cozy, infinite number of rooms (plus 1, all hand-carved), though the common room will only hold 12, 14 if you're friendly, 18 if ye weird like that. Spacious, solid tables, comfortable chairs, a roaring illusion of a crackling fire, a 100% imitation stone hearth, and a number of fine couches that only sometimes devour their occupant. Do be less dramatic, they are JUST playing around.

But yes ... ingredients ... probably important those ...

Oh well, she was a witch, she would just figure it out. She may have been cursed with eternal youth after slipping bubble potion into the soup at the grand gathering, but she wasn't going to let her dreams escape just because she had trouble reaching the top shelves or seeing over the counter ... why had she carved the counters so high?!

Too late now.

She wove the very essence of shadow itself together to make herself a step stool to stand on.

Finally, with a poke of her finger, the completely-non-magical-entirely-powered-by-electricity neon sign lit up, proclaiming, in exactly two colours of neon, the business to be open!

EDIT: Proofreaded!

Madeline had been standing behind the counter for only a few minutes when she let out a gigantic sigh relative to her little lungs. Why wasn't anyone here yet? Had the turtle put them off? Stepping down from her stool, and turning, she sat, only the tippiest tip of her hat visible over the counter. Resting her elbows on her knees, and planting her chin between her palms, Madeline sulked. Was she even ready for this? What was she going to do when the first person arrived and asked for ... well, whatever people get at cafes. What was she going to tell them?

Another heavy sigh shook her little shoulders ... she was going to have to get ... y'know, stuff. Would her hardship never end?

Straightening up, she peered around at the empty order counter, and the little empty kitchen behind it. If only she'd had the patience to hand-carve a fridge ... a stove ... could she carve ingredients? No, that was just silly.

Well, She thought, straightening up and pushing her hat away from her eyes, no point putting it off. Standing from her little stool of darkness, she rolled the sleeves of her ornate little witch dress, black as the night's sky on one of those really really black nights, and held out her index fingers.

With a wave as small as it was mighty, Madeline summoned into being everything she would need to actually RUN a cafe ... well, except people to help. Say what you will, people generally frowned on suddenly poofing people into existence. Even just poofing someone from somewhere else wasn't usually well received. The best response she'd ever gotten was a little pat on the head and a thank you from a great big toothless man in a lovely, stripey jumpsuit, whose chains jingled when he ran.

Hopping up, the little witch held herself up on the edge of the counter, gently kicking her feet as she peered into the space behind. A little frown crossed her little face as she saw the groceries she'd summoned were all still in their bags on the floor. Unfortunately, it would have taken a wizard of far greater experience to cast a spell of organizing ... for some reason.

With her sleeves already rolled, at least she was ready for ... UUUUGGGGHHHHH labour.

It took her well over an hour to put the items all into their places, decide she didn't like where they were, tear everything down again, move the fridge, move it back, and put everything back where she'd originally put it but swap the herbs and spices for the canned goods and basically same thing. Re-emerging from the kitchen, she waved a finger to cast a spell of refreshment, momentarily blasted with a refreshing magical breeze of cleanliness.

Proudly stepping back onto the stool, this time it took only seconds before boredom literally FORCED her to faceplant onto the counter and begin wailing loudly, slamming her fist dramatically onto the lovely, hand-carved counter.

Madeline had dozed off from the exertion of being so completely overwhelmed by her own failure. WHY wasn't anyone here? Was it her location? She knew the building was nice but was it counter-productive locating herself on the shell of a gargantuan murder turtle? With the staggering headcount, it just seemed like there must have been a great many people wandering through the area.

Hopping down from her stool again, she stormed outside as fiercely as her little frame could storm. Peering up at the sign, she puzzled and puzzled. Was it the lack of vegan-friendly signage? As far as she knew, wood was vegan, making all of her signage vegan-friendly. Was it the lighting? No ... the lighting was fire. Well, no, it was actually magic, but what I mean to say is that it was lit. Like ... obviously, of course it was lit, but like it looked really nice.

ANYWAY it was probably the location. Turning, she peered down across the massive shell to where the creature's gargantuan head was resting on the ground, fast asleep. Strewn about the area were the remains of hundreds of heroes, big and small, old and new, some in piles even. OBVIOUSLY people were coming to the area, she had been correct, and her business hours were clearly printed as 'wherever the turtle is asleep' ... so maybe people just didn't want to give a witch a chance.

E

E

Madeline stopped quite suddenly and peered around. She'd heard something like a voice.

<Snipped quote by Dark Cloud>
Madeline stopped quite suddenly and peered around. She'd heard something like a voice.

Out of the darkness did creep, a man with cloak dark and deep.
Crooked legged, boney arms "Good eve, m'dear I mean you no harm."
His face was a sight, scarred and red eyed quite a fright.

<Snipped quote by Guccicorn>

Out of the darkness did creep, a man with cloak dark and deep.
Crooked legged, boney arms "Good eve, m'dear I mean you no harm."
His face was a sight, scarred and red eyed quite a fright.

Blinking just twice at the sudden arrival,
the feeling she felt wasn't fear for survival,
but rather the sprouting of fast growing glee
at the sight of a fellow so living as he!
"Good evening scarred sir, whose eyes are all red,
It's so nice to see you, most visitors are dead."
She gestured to the not-so-near piles of bodies,
"OH PLEASE won't you stay, I could make us hot toddies!"

The stranger stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped speaking,
while Madeline stood there just pointing and squeaking,
T'was only a moment that he'd been comatose,
When she decided the rhyming was rather verbose,
She stopped right away, sighing heavily. Staring just a moment longer at the frozen figure, she turned slowly and moved back inside the little hand-carved building to sulk.

Huh I'm awake "said the narrator"

Madeline paused with a confused look on her face. Looking around, she wiggled her pinky in her ear and listened for a moment before offering a little shrug.

As he strode aside the gilded stallion, holding upon the reigns of his steed St. Vicar a knight in plate-mail breathed in the cold morning air.

Madeline sat back down on her stool of sadness, pressing her chin into her palms. Swirling one finger lazily, a floating espresso cup appeared with a little latte in it, lifting itself to her pouting lips for her to sip at. She was unaware of the horse currently.

St. Vicar tied the horse to the fence by the carved shack, turning he looked around with a hand upon the pommel of his blade before walking into the abode.

Madeline straightened up as she heard the door, turning to see a figure in plate mail with a sword on his hip. Her eyes lit up, and she hopped onto her stool behind the counter.

"Hello, and welcome! You're my first customer! What would you like, whatever it is it's on the house!"

As the good St. Vicar approached the counter, taking a seat upon a wooden stool the armored man cocked his head to the side and arched an eyebrow "First?" glancing about the empty common room then back to the woman "Hm, I'll have an ale mam." Vicar told her with a nod of his head.

Madeline nodded excitedly and turned around to face the prep window ... only to remember no one else worked here ... and that it was a cafe. Standing stunned on her stool for a minit, she finally waved her finger in the air and summoned a frosty tankard of ale. Turning back around, she set it gently onto the counter with a proud smile. "There! ... and yes, my absolute and only first customer ever!"

St. Vicar brought the tankard to his mouth taking a swig of the ale, before bringing it down upon the counter with a dull thunk. He wiped some froth upon his upper lip with the back of his hand, exhaling a satisfied sigh "Ah, good stuff." once again glancing around the room.

Madeline watched for his reaction like her entire future depended on it, managing to keep her balance through a kind of ... spiny ... wiggly dance atop her little stool. Once she'd regained her composure, she put her little fists on her little hips and offered a little smile.

"Only the best for MY customers ..." She stood just being proud for a few more moments before her brow flattened out and her expression fell. She was being rude!

"Oh my goodness, I didn't ask for your name, sir ..." A quizzical look fell onto her features as she, pause hanging for an answer.

"St. Vicar, mam and you are?" the gruff looking knight smiled slightly at the woman as she nearly fell off the stool she perched herself atop.

Madeline's eyes went wide as the man announced his title. A saint! How amazing! She collected herself and offered her little hand to shake. "I'm Madeline, it's nice to meet you! A saint! You must have some amazing stories ... w-would you ... would you tell me an amazing story?" She'd leaned onto her elbows on the counter now, looking rather impressed even without a story.