Vodou meets Palo

===> COH <===> 4/9/2020, 7:46:20 PM <===
Botanica Los Cruces - Botanica(#11104RM)

	Botanica Los Cruces (the crossroads botanica) - one of San Ysidro's least known and smallest off-the-beaten-path of botanicas - is a retail store that sells folk medicine, religious candles and statuary, amulets, and other products regarded as magical or as alternative medicine. They also carry oils, incense, perfumes, scented sprays (many of which are thought to have special properties!) and various brand name health care products in addition to serving as a dispensary of medicinal herbs.

	To say that the cramped shop is a mess would be to speak rather generously. There /might/ be some rhyme or reason to the layout of the cornucopia of goods held within these walls, but if there is? Its known only to the botanica's apothecary.

	Narrow aisles hold shelves that are stocked floor to ceiling with a hodge-podge of items.

	A long counter near the back holds an old fashioned cash register that has seen better days. Behind the counter on wall mounted shelves are large glass jars containing both fresh and dried herbs and other assorted organic mystery items, along with a well-tended display featuring a variety of products used in syncretic Roman Catholic practices such as rosary beads, holy water, and images of saints.

	Off in a corner is a small space for coffee and chit-chat - a round table, 4 chairs, and fixings for cafe cubano.

	 *** PLACES AVAILABLE ***

	The Umbra finds this place friendly to spirits, particularly those of the Orisha courts. The Gauntlet is a little weaker in here than the surrounding area.

	The Shadowlands finds this place friendly to wraiths, with the Shroud here being thinner than the surrounding area. There is /history/ here, and as such, the environs have weight and substance on this side of the Shroud.

Contents:
Angel

	*** Nightzone ***

Obvious Exits:
  Out <O>   Storeroom <St>

	Its evening on a Thursday. Cen is at the register, a ledger out on the counter. Perhaps he's reconciling the shop's books?

	Fun fact -- Angel has a motorcycle. It's an old Indian he bought off of someone. Tonight, he's riding up toward the border, the sound of his Motorcycle echoing along the lonely desert roads. He doesn't bother wearing a helmet, his braids flying out behind him and his old army jacket catching the wind.
	He stops in front of the Botanica and kicks out the kickstand, before he shakes his hair out and walks inside.

	Cen looks up as a bell above the door rings, signaling an arrival. Too many robberies in the neighborhood not to have such a thing, y'know?! "Help yourself to coffee if you want," he says, jerking his head towards the small table up near the front. "Otherwise, holler if you need help finding anything."

	"I will take some coffee, but not for me. You got the Haitian beans?" Angel says. As he walks, the coat opens, revealing the black t-shirt he's wearing, and there's a flash of the red beads on his bracelet. He glances up and around. Then he reaches down and takes out a pair of sunglasses and slips them on.

	"Tonight, yeah. Switching over to Brasilian tomorrow," confirms Cen before he goes back to scribbling in the ledger for a few moments.

<WRAITH> The spirit that accompanies Cen speaks to the youth, in a rich low baritone of a voice, the accent foreign. "This one seems like he might be interesting, kiddo."

	"Then I'll take what you've got." Angel adds, before he explores the shelves. He begins pulling stuff down. Incense. Corn meal. Basic ingredients. Candles. He's stocking up, it looks like. He glances up. Angel is fairly obviously mulatto - skin the color of coffee with cream, hair that's as straight as a pin when it's not braided.
	"I need some other stuff." He puts a list down on the counter. "Do you have it?"
	The things he's asking for are *weird* ingredients. Datura, for starters. Smoked toads' skins.

	Cen looks over his shoulder at his spirit companion, as if waiting for a signal. The spirit gives him a nod, after which Cen looks back to Angel and nods as well. "Yeah, we have this stuff. Gimme a bit to gather things up." He shuts the ledger, setting it aside. "Welcome to the shop. I'm Cen."

	Angel might know the spirit is there, but he's not paying it any mind. It'd be rude. "Angel." He says, "I'm practicing out of Tijuana." ...Which means he's Sabbat. Which means he's a Cobra. He leans his hand on the counter and waits. "Nice shop. I heard about this place and decided to take a drive."

	Cen turns to make his way from glass jar to glass jar behind the counter. The spirit companion? Mr. Nkuyu? He stays right where he's at, leaning forward to get a better look at Angel. Cen frowns slightly, but. What could he do? The spirit was his mentor, not the other way around. Finally, Cen returns with small paper bags full of the various components. "Tijuana seems an interesting spot. Me? I like it right here on the sword's edge of the border."

	Papa Legba's not here, it seems - he doesn't follow Angel everywhere he goes. Then he looks up and says, "There's a lot of questions that go with that." He says, "But I don't know if it's my place to ask them." He looks around, from side to side, and then says, "You're a new face to me. Who do you run with?"

	Cen smiles, "The Nkisi. I practice palo mayombe. I'm Nkuyu's brood." He slides the assemblage of small paper sacks forward on the counter, then reaches for his own cup of coffee, and takes a sip. "I thought of putting out my shingle up in Chula Vista but that place was chick full of too many Karens and Beckys for my liking. San Ysidro is more my kinda place."

	"Vodoun. I was trained in Haiti." Angel responds. "And Louisiana Voodoo. And ceremonial magick." He raises an eyebrow, and then says, "My met tet is Papa Legba." Then he snorts. "I don't show my head north of the border, lest it get cut off. Though now that the King Snake's vanished, I have more room to breathe."

	"I think that's why I like the border, the /actual/ border - like a mile or three on either side, the best. Edge of the sword's the best place to be." Another sip of coffee, as Cen finishes off what was left in his cup. "But I hear you, 'm not a big fan of going much further north than Chula Vista. Shit gets stifling up past that."

	Angel tilts his head at that, and then the corner of his mouth turns up. "Some of us don't have that luxury. I exist right on the tip of the thing. But that doesn't mean that I can't be *civil*." Then he sighs, and looks up, before he tilts his head. "I miss coffee, sometimes. I used to steal it off of tables at the cafes in Port-au-Prince when I was a boy."

	Cen smiles, then nods before looking down with lament at his now empty coffee cup. "It's not a bad beverage." He slides the empty cup to the side, even as Mr. Nkuyu watches the proceedings like a hawk. "Where in TJ is your shop at? Maybe I'll come check out the vibe."

	"I don't run a botanica." Angel says. "I run a hotel. The de Castillion." It's haunted as hell. The kind of place where ghosts in certain rooms are known for killing the tenants. But then he raises an eyebrow at Ceniza. "You're an odd one." He says, "I can't quite put my finger on you..." Then he puts his chin in his hand. "Why are you *here*?"

	"A ... hotel?" Cen arches an eyebrow. "Well, maybe I'll come and take a look there, then." He jots down the name of the place, per Angel. mr. Nkuyu gives a chuckle, leaning in for one last good look at Angel's face before the spirit steps away. Cen watches the exchange out of the corner of his eye, then puts the pencil down. "Because any further north, and there's no room to breathe. Because any further south, and who knows what could happen. But right here? The nortenos don't really come 'round, this close to Mexico. And the surenos, they're mostly just passing through to points further north. All in al, its a decent little slice of no man's land."

	That makes Angel tilt his head and narrow his eyes. "You're here to serve the Ensambi and the Endoki in some capacity." He looks up, and then says, "And you picked the border--" He looks around, and then he puts his hand on his chin. "God, you Palos... always a fucking *mystery* with you guys." But he grins, the corner of his mouth curving up.

	Cen gives a small nod. "Something like that. I'm much closer to the beginning of my studies, than the end, and the border - the place in-between - is as good a spot as any to hone them." A grin, "So, yeah, I'll be by to check out your spot. Even bring you a bag of roasted coffee beans."

	Angel considers that, and then he licks a fang - he always has those fangs, and they are sharp - no wonder he isn't a big smiler till the snake's out of the bag - with a tongue with the hint of a fork in it. He reaches into his coat and jots down a stylized symbol of the compass rose. "Here. Show that to the front desk and they'll let you down into the private lounge." But then Angel raises an eyebrow. "Interesting cologne. Freshly-dug grave at midnight with a hint of--" He sniffs, "Cubanos? You want a cigar?" He takes a pack out of his coat.

	Cen blinks, reaching out for the page with the sigil drawn by Angel. "Nifty," he mutters to himself, even as Mr. Nkuyu comes back over to stare at the page over Cen's shoulder. <<Well, will you look at that!>> said the spirit. <<Get the smokes, we'll need them for later.>> Cen sighs, then looks to Angel and nods. "Yes, please. Two if you can spare'em - your ingredients are on the house by way of trade."

	Angel tilts his head, and then he gets out a pack of cigars, and he sets them down on the counter. Cubanos. He shakes out a third, and an electric lighter. "Nothing in the world's free, my friend. Am I paying a price that's too high?"

	Cen laughs as he takes two of the cigars, taking first one into his mouth to light, and then the other. The second gets sets down on an ashtray in front of Mr. Nkuyu. "I guess you'll just haveta wait and see."

	Angel uses an electric lighter to light up both smokes. He draws on his, and turns his head away to blow out a plume of smoke. "That could mean a lot of different things." He says. "But I suppose if the Baron's dug my grave, it is what it is."

	Cen does the same, then gives a nod in agreement. "Ain't that the truth." Then he puffs away thoughtfully, letting the smoke serve as a focus for his meditations.

	Angel raises one eyebrow, as he stands there, and smokes -- he taps the ashes out in the ashtray, and then says, "It's a nice store." He says, "How'd you get all this shit here so fast?" He adds, "It takes capital to set up a store... I didn't do it because I never had the patience to run a botanica--"

	"I guess I just got friends in the right places." A smile as Cen sets his cigar down in the ashtray. "Speaking of which, I have an appointment to keep."

	Angel clamps his cigar between his teeth. "Right." He says. "...Be seeing you, then." He inhales the scent of the coffee beans before closing up the bag, shouldering his prizes, and walking out. He casts one look behind him at the store, and then starts his bike. "...Heh."
===> Log ended by user <===> 4/9/2020, 9:47:18 PM <===