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The snow-covered path leading up to the cafe was untouched and as Nitane's eyes settled on the old building, a small smile touched her lips. It felt like coming home again. She knew the place was truly empty now, the last time she had stopped by nearly ten years ago only few still came by. Sam had to let it go, and the workers, no longer able to keep the place running, slowly left one by one.
absent mindedly, her hand lifted to where her necklace sat, the moon shaped silver cold to the touch. She remembered a time when another necklace sat there. A time when she was not the only voice in her head, when she was not always in control of herself.
Her smile didn't falter, despite the hiss of the unpleasant memories. She moved forward, boots crunching in the snow. A large black and purple blanket hung over her shoulders, keeping her cloak underneath some what dry. Her hood kept her face hidden from the snow as she walked the small ways up to the door. The door was slightly ajar, one of the hinges long broken. Snow had slipped inside the once bustling building. She slipped her thin frame inside and surveyed the place. The shelves behind the bar were barren where they had once been full. Only a few broken bottles decorated them now. A few tables tossed onto their sides, the tablecloths covered in dust. This building was now cold and dark, all the windows boarded up.
Pulling off her blanket, she hung it up on one of the few coat racks left. The ravenette then made her way to the closest table, picking it up off its side. Any noise she made sounded deafening in the quiet building. This particular table's cloth had been pulled off some time ago and as she righted the table, she was sad to see it lackluster. A faint memory of being able to see her own reflection in the table surfaced. She had been young then, only 16 or so, and pestilence had not only taken over her mind, but morphed her appearance. Where Nitane had naturally black hair, it had grown in lavender. And for a time, her eyes were lavender more often than the beautiful forest green she had been born with. Now, with Pestilence gone, she was entirely herself. Her jet black hair was pulled back in a thick braid and her eyes their natural green.

"I guess it couldn't hurt..." she mumbled to herself, looking around the cafe again.

For the next hour, Nitane would work on picking up tables and chairs, placing them together and pulling ones needing repairing to the side. She took a few broken chairs and placed them near the fire place and even started throwing the broken bottles in bins to throw out.

Even in this place with little heat, she worked up a sweat and pulled off her cloak, hanging it up with her woven treasure. Not hot enough to take off her jacket or vest, but warm enough to at least rid herself of the heavy layers.

When she was finished, she took a step back and surveyed her work. It still looked like s**t, she decided, chuckling to herself. It would need a lot more than an hours hard work to get this place to even a fraction of what it was back in the day.

Sitting in a chair to have a ration of cheese and jerky, Nitane smiled to herself and allowed herself to remember. Because of Pestilence, some of Nitane's memories were fuzzy. But she could remember that this place made her smile. She remembered that this place made her feel safe. In this small building she fell in love and out of love. Here, she had her first drink and could even recall dancing ontop of tables. She even remembered her sister working on the other side of the bar, making drinks and sandwiches for customers as they swarmed in. If Nitane closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could hear familiar voices saying her name.

"Nitane..." This voice she heard jolted her. It was the unwelcome one. The only voice from this time she didn't want to hear.

"I think that's enough reminiscing for now," she chided, finishing up her cheese and putting the rest away. "I'm not sure what my intentions are, but for now... this feels right."

Nitane continued to work, bringing in snow in buckets to melt, cleaning the fireplace to get a fire started, and even going as far as to wipe down tables and the bar. She felt they deserved a good wipe after all these years.