Chapter Text
Sometimes, Varian wondered why Nevermore had a pawn shop. Their village was small- ridiculously so. They didn’t have a cinema or a big grocery store or a mall, so why did they have a pawn shop?
Later, he figured it out. Nevermore was the place things went to die.
It was befitting of the name; apparently a certain poet had taken a liking to the place a couple hundred years back. Such was the appeal of the small town- people were born, they left, and then they came back to rot.
Nevermore was half retirement community, half stalemate between the parents that sought cheap real estate and the kids that wanted to leave. It wasn’t bad, necessarily- it could be described as quaint, sometimes even lovely. And the whole ‘neighbourhood community’ wasn’t so bad either. But it was no Stars Hollow, that was for sure.
Varian hated it on principle.
Science was his way out, his lens of escapism. He could forget about his stagnant present, and let himself drift to a place where he did wonderful things. A place where he could have the time and resources to one day find something nobody had ever found before- where finally people would look at him and whisper, not because he was the brooding kid with the dead mom and antisocial dad, but because he had done something truly special.
Well, nothing to numb the soul like an afternoon shift working at your deadbeat dad’s pawn shop.
It wasn’t all bad- the bakery across the way made good cookies, and sometimes Lance would bring one over if he was working the same shift as Varian. And they never got too busy, leaving Varian plenty of time to tinker with whatever little project he was working on at the time.
His job was simple: make idle chat, ask about the weather, the wife, all the usual thoroughfare. Then, coo over whatever piece of junk they’d disgraced him with. People wanted value; too little interest shown and they’d take their business elsewhere. (Not that there was any other place: but, hey, Etsy.) A simple glint of his eye, a not-so-subtle comment and he’d peak their interest. They’d lean forward, eager to hear the worth of their object. Varian would look closely, feel the object under his palms and hum to himself like he was busy checking quality. Then he would offer a bust price. They would squawk in indignation, before shouting that their item had worth, of course it did. Varian would smile sweetly, and haggle them down ruthlessly until they were convinced the item they held was worth no more than garbage. And boom: another sale done.
The alchemist idly fingered the necklace in his hands- medium weight, tarnished with a shining red stone. It was nothing special. To an outwards observer, it would look like gold. But Varian saw it for what it was- a cheap hunk of junk. It was made from a cheap metal alloy, explaining the tarnish. The gemstone wasn’t a ruby, but likely colored glass mimicking the precious gem. Varian scoffed. Another fake. That’s all you deal with, when you work in a pawn shop.
His day brightened a little when he saw Nuru coming round the corner- she had been hired just for this summer, and god, she’d already made Varian’s life so much easier.
Deep brown skin, a perfectly styled afro clipped back with tastefully jewelled star barrettes wearing a dress that fluttered around her knee dotted with stars and nebulas. Looking at her, you’d never guess she worked in a tacky pawn shop farting around identifying people’s trash instead of working for NASA or something.
She cocked her head, perfectly manicured hands falling instantly to her hip.
‘Varian, are you okay?’ She asked, eyebrows pinching in concern.
‘I’m okay, Nuru.’ He sighed. ‘Just another day in the shithole.’
‘Well, great, because you’re due in for another Latin lesson with yours truly.’
He groaned. ‘Really, Nuru? I’ve been working all morning, and I was going to head out with Ruddiger and-’
The older girl interrupted him, holding up one hand to his face. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck, Varian. You asked for this shit, so you’re going to get it. Latin is the language of science, so you better get off your ass and stop busting mine.’
The alchemist spluttered. Nuru was an astronomist first and foremost, so he had been suprised when she revealed she could translate a dead language. ‘It’s an art, Varian.’ She has breathed when she first told him, silent respect imbuing her words. She had strongarmed him into agreeing to lessons a while back, and it was useful, but it was just so hard…
Her tone shifted into something softer as she reached into his space to grab the necklace he had been idly fingering. ‘Don’t do that.’ She commanded, although her words had no real bite to them. ‘It’ll tarnish.’
Varian rolled his eyes. ‘Who gives a shit, Nuru? It’s cheap alloy and glass, anyway.’
She gave him a look that could melt glass, before turning to the necklace resting in her palms. ‘Sure, but it’s pretty. If you get the kid to give it a good clean, I can breathe some new life into it. ‘
‘Nuru.’ He remarked. ‘You are not engraving more fucking stars on there, I swear to god..’
She squawked, cradling the necklace closer. ‘Do not say that. She’s listening.’
‘She is a necklace, Nuru. Are we gendering inanimate objects now?’
‘Well, actually, the reason most inanimate objects are referred to as ships is because the Latin word for ship, nāvis, is feminine, so the trend started with ships and gradually extended to other objects of value such as planes or bikes..’
Varian let her talk. God, he fucking hated the afternoon shift.