Branches, Birches and Junipers/Chapter 3

It was a quiet day at the coffee shop.

In other words, it was the best time to muck about.

“Mark, I bet you totally can’t drink a whole bottle of tomato sauce in one go,” Tenley said, raising a bottle of tomato sauce.

Next to her, sat Lea, nose in a book, looking rather irritated at the noise her two companions were making.

“What,” Mark said, placing the cloth he was using to wipe the counter bench down. “No, I totally can! Watch me.”

Just as he pulled out a straw from the milkshake machine, and just as Tenley unscrewed the lid of the bottle, the door swung open, clattering and whacking the side of the wall with a thud.

In walked one of the swan maidens. Who she was, no one really knew, but she walked in with a threatening, unapproachable stance.

“Venti white mocha latte with one layer of caramel syrup, another layer of chocolate syrup, exactly 2 tablespoons of sugar, almonds, whipped cream and not of that gross low fat stuff, chocolate syrup on top, and chocolate shavings,” she hardly looked up at the counter. “And double espresso."

"Name?"

"L, I, A, N."

At the mention of the name, someone from a table in hearing range spat out his coffee. "Liam Tian-e! I have unsettled beef! Fight me!" and stood up on his chair.

"Please sit down, Kristan," Mark said.

Kristan Tell was Icarus' roommate and said that this was the only coffeeshop he frequented. It was the one most important to local communities, the son of William Tell had insisted. And it had the most socially conscious sourcing of the beans it used. Mark didn't know him well, but he did have a tendency to not ever use his inside voice.

"Why sit when you can take a stand?" He gestured to his current pose. "Anyway, cygnet, if you thought..."

"It was trash," snapped Lian. "The Swan Squad now knows to never seek you out for any composition."

"What was it? The very well-placed subliminal messages?"

"What? No? You just weren't hot enough to justify having around to do things for us."

"That was a triple insult and I feel like I'd care more if I valued your opinion."

Mark was starting to get distressed. "Guys, please..." he pleaded, but to no avail.

The two kept bickering.

It was only when Lea stepped in, held out her hands and very calmly, politely, told the two to back off from each other or leave the establishment. Lian looked a little frowny and Kristan was always difficult to calm, but they ended up agreeing on sitting on opposite ends of the coffeeshop.

And Mark, though thankful, felt his heart sink, and that devil of a feeling - envy, again.

Was he fearful that Lea was probably going to be Marlinchen instead of him?

But… no. He couldn’t be.

Mark was cool with Lea. At least, he thought he was. He threw her a party and everything. He baked pies. He tried to be the best Marlinchen he could to prove that he was Marlinchen.

And now suddenly, here she was, being agreeable with people nothing but disagreeable without even trying.

He was trying too hard, and she wasn’t at all.

Mark felt a tugging sense of guilt, the feeling that he failed his mother, that he wasn’t fighting, and that he wasn’t good enough.

But he had overcompensated. Mark must have read his story a million times. And he knew jealousy... especially jealousy over inheritance was what enabled the Devil to possess the stepmother and cause everything vile in the tale.

If only he had a demon or an old god to help him out. Amicably and nonviolently, of course, but that was simply not how stories go.

“Hey, are you still going to drink the rest of the tomato sauce?”