Welcome to the Family Business
Nov 13, 2014 17:16:36 GMT
Post by Emory Webb on Nov 13, 2014 17:16:36 GMT
Emory entered the dusty, old shop that was now her shared business. She owned this joint and she hadn't any idea how to go about running it. Emory had no interest in finances, in business, though being her own boss came with its perks and she had shied away from the Dark Arts since the unfortunate incident with her cat, so finding herself suddenly the owner of some seedy, Dark Arts shop in Knockturn Alley was quite the shock for the free-spirited wanderer. Emory needed the money though, exotic dancing was far too degrading and dangerous for her liking and she had hardly been surviving on the streets, as was evidence by her scrawny frame and lack of fat and muscle tone, she looked unhealthy, pale, pallid and ill. She was practically starved. Her father passed on his shop to her out of pity and concern for his rebel daughter, wanting to give her a solid source of income as well as a home, for the second story of the shop was a flat, now hers.
Emory was grateful only because she needed this place to survive, she hadn't been fairing very well on her own impulsive quest for freedom, which was at first liberating but soon became depressing as she faced hardships she had not known growing up as a wealthy, pureblood witch.
The fair-haired witch wearing a loose, red, flannel shirt and a pair of severely frayed jeans propped herself up against the counter with her elbow, resting her chin on the palm of her dainty hand. Bored, amber orbs gazed around the dingy shop and all its dark, mildly intriguing artifacts, growing up with this stuff made the novelty and mystery wear off, she now viewed the products as a burden, her newest problem to deal with.
"Where the fuck do we even begin?" Emory asked her elder cousin bluntly, tilting her head slightly to fix her half-lidded gaze on him. He was her business partner now, inheriting the brother and sister shop from his mother, her aunt Freda while Emory got her half from her father, Franz. This was now their problem to solve together.
Frankie Cobb
Emory was grateful only because she needed this place to survive, she hadn't been fairing very well on her own impulsive quest for freedom, which was at first liberating but soon became depressing as she faced hardships she had not known growing up as a wealthy, pureblood witch.
The fair-haired witch wearing a loose, red, flannel shirt and a pair of severely frayed jeans propped herself up against the counter with her elbow, resting her chin on the palm of her dainty hand. Bored, amber orbs gazed around the dingy shop and all its dark, mildly intriguing artifacts, growing up with this stuff made the novelty and mystery wear off, she now viewed the products as a burden, her newest problem to deal with.
"Where the fuck do we even begin?" Emory asked her elder cousin bluntly, tilting her head slightly to fix her half-lidded gaze on him. He was her business partner now, inheriting the brother and sister shop from his mother, her aunt Freda while Emory got her half from her father, Franz. This was now their problem to solve together.
Frankie Cobb
