Chapter Text
Tandri was worried. She knew everything was on schedule, but worry seemed to be woven into her nature. Something always went wrong, and since nothing had yet, it felt like an axe poised above her head, waiting to drop.
Thune's annual Festival of Blossoms was just around the corner, and Tandri wanted it to go perfectly. So far, it had—and that's exactly what unsettled her.
This year, Legends & Lattes wasn't confined to a simple booth like most smaller merchants and eateries. No, they had an entire pavilion.
She and Cal had designed a rather extraordinary structure—a partial replica of the store, complete with a service counter, comfortable seating, and even a small stage. Cal and Pendry were there now, working long hours to ensure it was ready for opening day.
It was the kind of ambitious setup that made Tandri's tail twitch with pride—and dread. It was certain to be a standout in the culinary section, and that much attention came with pressure.
The pavilion had been made possible by the sponsorship of the Madrigal, who, strangely, had asked for absolutely nothing in return. All she'd said was, "You've helped increase my fortune more than I can measure. I'm close to being in your debt."
The statement didn't make any sense to Tandri—and that made her nervous—but she also wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. So she set her worries aside and focused on the task at hand: creating the best pavilion they could. If all went well, it would be a highlight of the festival.
But "if all went well" meant there was a lot to do.
It was currently a slow time at the store and Tandri was sitting at one of the corner tables working on her still-sizable task list: she had to triple check the stock to make sure they never ran out of anything during the five-day festival, work with Thimble on finalizing the special food menu, collect the final delivery of flowers for the pavilion, and finish training the temporary help they had hired—Deedee and Kyra, who so far had shown promise despite their young age.
Then there was one task she was actively avoiding: picking out her festival outfit. The idea alone was enough to make her stomach churn.
Viv had been teasing her mercilessly about it, arguing that it wouldn't do to wear her usual comfortable—and admittedly conservative—clothing to the most vibrant event of the year.
"They call it the Festival of Bosoms for a reason!" Viv had said with a wicked grin, referencing the festival's infamous reputation for bright, daring, and decidedly revealing fashion. "It's the one week when we get to show off!"
Tandri, however, had spent her whole life avoiding clothing like that—and showing off. The idea of wearing something form-fitting, let alone revealing, made her squirm. Practicality just felt comfortable to her, and festival attire was anything but.
Still, she'd reluctantly eyed one outfit, just to humor Viv. It was a pale lavender dress with sleeves that flowed to her elbows and a hem that brushed just past her knees. Embroidered flowers framed the neckline and cuffs, subtle but festive. The fabric was light yet sturdy, the cut loose enough for comfort but flattering enough to avoid looking shapeless.
It was simple, understated, and, most importantly, something she could work in—a compromise she might be able to live with.
She was certain Viv would be disappointed with her choice, though. Which was probably why she was procrastinating.
The quill stilled in her hand as Tandri stared down at her task list, tapping it lightly against the parchment. A pavilion to run, flowers to arrange, staff to train, and a dress to pick.
So, yeah. There was a lot to worry about.
On this particular morning, Tandri was looking over to Viv by the counter as she was speaking with Lack, probably finalizing some of her own last minute arrangements.
Her gaze lingered on Viv, watching the easy way she leaned against the counter, all steady strength and quiet confidence. There was something magnetic about her presence that seemed to hold the room steady, like the stone foundation of the shop itself. She gestured animatedly as she spoke with Lack, her broad hand tracing small arcs in the air, her expression lit with that rare, unguarded warmth that Tandri loved most.
It wasn't hard to love her. Over a year of shared mornings, late nights, and everything in between had only deepened the connection with her beloved orc. Viv was the anchor in her life, the solid ground beneath the whirlwind of running the shop. She wasn't just a partner; she was home.
A memory came unbidden, lingering at the edges of Tandri's thoughts. Though she still had her own room across the hall, she cherished these occasional mornings when she got to wake up in Viv's strong arms. With Viv, there was no fear, no masks, no walls—only patience, steadiness, and unconditional acceptance.
Viv had a way of grounding her, making everything feel quieter and more manageable. The way she held Tandri—secure and unwavering—was a silent promise that she was safe and adored. Viv's strength balanced so effortlessly with her gentleness, a care so constant it felt like a part of who she was.
What stayed with Tandri wasn't just the closeness but the deep sense of belonging. With Viv, she felt seen and loved in a way she hadn't thought possible, and that, more than anything, was what she treasured most. Tandri luxuriated in the gratitude of knowing she would never have to flee again.
The bell above the door jingled, the open entry letting in a brisk breeze from outside. Tandri's attention was pulled to a pair of older gnomes struggling with an unwieldy package between them. They paused just inside, their cheeks flushed and breath slightly ragged from the effort.
"Cal's order!" one of them announced triumphantly, patting the box as if they'd conquered a mountain to get it there.
Tandri raised an eyebrow, crossing the shop toward them. "Thank you, but this isn't staying here. It's meant for our pavilion at the festival grounds."
Both gnomes blinked, then exchanged a look of exasperation. "Well, that would've been good to know before hauling it halfway across the district, These things are heavy," the taller one grumbled.
The shorter gnome adjusted his hat, sighing dramatically. "I told you to ask before carrying it all the way, but noooo, you said, 'It'll be faster if we just take it ourselves.' Faster, he says. My back will remember this for weeks."
Tandri waved a hand to calm them. "Just leave it outside. I'll send someone to help get it to the right spot. Don't worry about it."
As they left, muttering playfully at each other, Tandri turned back to the shop. It thrummed with quiet energy, its heartbeat steady and soothing. The morning rush had eased into a mid-morning lull, leaving behind the low murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic.
Sunlight poured through the tall windows, illuminating the polished counters and catching the faint steam curling up from fresh lattes. The air carried a medley of scents: rich coffee, warm spices, and the sweet undertone of honeyed apple turnovers cooling on the counter.
Near the center of the room, a dwarf with a bushy auburn beard gestured animatedly with a scone in one hand, explaining the intricacies of ore vein mapping to a politely nodding half-elf. At a nearby table, a gregarious goblin leaned forward conspiratorially, her fingers drumming on the wood as she traded whispers with a young woman who sported a large floppy hat. The goblin paused mid-sentence to laugh, the sound bright and contagious, drawing amused glances from the other patrons.
Amity, the shop's enormous dire-cat, lounged near the fireplace. The stone hearth glowed faintly, the dying embers from the morning fire crackling beneath the iron grate. Above the mantle was an old horseshoe, a remnant from the prior livery that had somehow survived the fire—Viv had held on to it as a sign of at least a little luck. It might not be a Scalvert Stone, but every little bit helped.
Amity's tail flicked lazily as she watched a small group of halfling children debate the bravery required to approach her. Finally, one girl reached out a trembling hand, only to freeze as Amity's massive head tilted toward her. Then, with a rumbling purr, the cat leaned into the touch, earning delighted squeals from the group.
A little over a year since their grand reopening and the shop was thriving. It was well and truly alive and had become one of the centers of social life in the Redstone District. The owners—Viv, Tandri, Cal, Pendry, and Thimble—all had reason to celebrate.
Their unofficial patron, the Madrigal, was more than happy with her weekly tribute of pastries, which were quickly gaining the reputation of being among the best in the entire city. Indeed, Thimble had been invited on more than one occasion to give a lecture to the Culinary Guild, which he naturally declined out of sheer terror.
As Tandri glanced about the shop from her corner table she forgot her worries for a moment. She knew that everything would be alright in the end. Hadn't Durias the cryptic gnome said "It'll all work out just fine"? Not that he ever explained what he meant— and he hadn't gotten any better about that. When she got out of her own anxious mind and really looked at what she and Viv and all the rest had built, it was hard to imagine that anything could disrupt their lives ever again.