The morning sun broke over the horizon, the brilliant radiance spilled golden hues across the rooftops of the sleeping city in playful gleeful delight to herald in a new day. The light shone merrily through shuttered windows and danced across the form of a sleeping figure; exhausted after a long night of work. 

"Fuck." Joan swore loudly and groggily placed her arms over eyes. 

Her senses were bombarded with a sea of happy murmuring from her botanical garden below.

"Light"

"Warm."

"Light."

"Happy."

A few of the more persnickety variety of her family croaked out with a rasping breath. 

"Water."

"Fuck." Joan swore again. "Why the fuck did I take plant whisper again? Fucking skill. Fucking sunlight. Fucking morning…"

She laid there for a few minutes trying to drown out the monotonous murmur of her system translating the plant's whims with her thoughts.

"WATER."

"Plants are quiet. My ass." Joan mocked her previous thoughts. "Fine. I'll get up. Dammit."

Joan wearily rolled out of bed with her blankets still firmly wrapped around her. If she couldn't stay warm in bed. She'll just take the warmth of bed with her. It wasn't worth it to risk the morning chill. 

She waddled with bleary eyes over to the water creation glyph that she had installed and inserted a small amount of her mana. The glyph pushed a small amount of water through a series of hoses that lightly sprayed over many of her plants. It took a few moments for the incessant whining to dim down. 

But, finally it was quiet. 

"Finally." Joan yawned and stumbled over to a small kettle. She inserted a small amount of mana into a fire glyph and waited for the water inside the kettle to boil. 

It didn't take very long to heat up. Magic was convenient that way. And, soon, Joan was cuddled back in bed with a hot cup of tea and several layers of a disheveled blanket. 

She took a few drowsy sips.

"Fuck. Hot." She mumbled to herself. 

The morning might just be the worst. The blinding sunlight; utter bullshit. The happy cheers of her plants; adorable. But, horseshit. The morning toll of the bell; religious dogma- shit.

"Heh." Joan smiled a bit into her cup at her own stupid joke. It wasn't funny, but nothing is at sunrise. 

And, needing to get out of bed to face the day and run a semi-successful business; the worst. 

Not worth leaving bed. 

"Maybe I should've waited for a pillow talk skill so I could talk with my bed…"

Joan finished her tea while she counted through the rest of the things that she hated about mornings. 

"Blechl…", she glanced lazily around her room, looking for something else to hate about the morning. 

"Happy", a plant cooed contentedly from the other room. 

"Well… it might not be all bad." She yawned and finally stretched for the first time that morning. She swung her feet out of bed and quickly got dressed before it got any more cold. 

Joan quickly and half heartedly brushed out her long black hair. It was a mess, but she didn't spend much time on it. She was quite content to simply pull it back and not bother with all of the curls and frizzy ends.

"Tah-dah", she sarcastically thought to herself as glanced over her appearance. "But, whatever. Yay. Another day."

Joan walked back downstairs and picked up a small pair of gardening shears. She quickly sheared, or pulled off, any dying parts of her plant family. 

Honestly, it was probably her least favorite part of the day, ranked right below waking up. It was a necessary part of her job. And, she didn't use to think much of it.

Then, she earned the (Plant whisper) skill. And, earned the privilege of hearing her poor little plants whimper and cry as they were pruned. 

They didn't cry for long. Most of the time, they would chirp that they were happy after the pain went away. But, it put her off pruning them for a week when she first heard them cry. 

The problem was that they weren't happy, if they weren't pruned regularly. A few pieces of the plants would wither and die and soon the whole shop would be filled with depressed laments of "Sad". 

A few of the plants whispered, "Scared", as she drew close to them with her shears.

The scared ones got a couple of drops of sugar water to calm them down. Then, she would do what she had to quickly. And, gave them another small drop of candy.

"See. It's all done. You did really well. You were very brave." Joan consoled one particularly young and scared fern and gently brushed the stalks and leaves with her fingers. A comforting glow of mana spread into its roots.

"H-happy." The fern chirped and still managed to sound a little frightened. 

"Pft. They really are just like children…" Joan thought to herself. "Well, except that you don't usually need to cut off the limbs on actual children."

Joan quickly finished her morning care routine for her garden and headed for the front door of her business.

"I have to take care of a few things in town. All of you need to behave while I'm gone." She smirked at herself. "Don't burn down the house

"

"The crazy lady that talks to plants. Huh. That's probably worse than a crazy cat lady."

"Light."

"Happy."

The plants happily sang together as she closed the door behind her. 

"Alright. It's my day off. I need to restock some odds and ends, swing by the merchants guild, and…", Joan glanced down the street toward her favorite tavern. "Fuck it, breakfast first."

The tavern was called The Shaggy Mutt. The owner had adopted and nursed a stray dog back to health after discovering him on the streets. He was a very nice, intelligent and handsome mongrel. He had long spotted brown fur that dropped over his eyes. 

Originally, the tavern was named The Dapper Dwarf. A bit of an egotistical nod to the dwarf that owned it. However, the dog quickly became something of an unofficial mascot. And, despite the fancy lettering in the window, everyone unanimously called the place The Shaggy Mutt.

The bell chimed as Joan walked through the front door. She immediately winced as a high pitched scream and human projectile launched itself at her.

"Jo!", Liz bubbly greeted and latched onto the prickly alchemist. 

"Liz." Joan deadpanned back to the overly excited girl. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, not that she would give Liz the satisfaction of seeing it. 

"Oh, gods, it feels like it's been forever! How are you! I'm so happy to see you again!"

Joan rolled her eyes.

"Liz, I live up the fucking street. We see each other every day."

"Well, yeah, but…", Liz pouted. "You've been so busy lately."

"Ah, that's true. I've had more horny bastards lately than I can fucking handle."

"Language!" Liz playfully smacked Joan across the shoulder. 

"Oh, right. So, fucking sorry, your ladyship." Joan smirked and glanced over at an empty tables. 

"Hush you. Or, I'll stop sending the drunken bastards that pour their heart out to me over to your place." 

A few of the patrons glanced up in shock. It was rare for their bar angel to use such coarse language. 

Joan sighed and buried her face in her hands with a defeated sigh.

"So, it's all your fucking fault that I've had to treat all of those soft pricks this week."

"You're welcome!" Liz beamed cheerfully. "I've heard that you've been having some troubles lately and-"

"Liz!" A deep, heavily accented and gruff baritone voice cut through their conversation. "Fo' cryin' oot lood, jus' sit th' por lass fo' ya knob 'er ears off. Por lass aboot te keen o'ver."  

Joan shared a glance with Liz and snorted. 

"Well, you heard the dwarf. I need a fucking seat and a good meal before my legs give out." She said with a smirk. "But, I can't get fucking either in this dung heap."

"Oi! Iffn clipe an' haver on me. Yo' dinnae get neither."

Joan turned to Liz with a blank expression. 

"Did you understand a fucking word of that?"

Liz nodded sagely and spoke in a terrible mocking dwarvish accent. 

"He said, 'Sit down, shut up, and focking order.'"

"Pft." Joan couldn't keep herself from laughing at the terrible impression as she sat down. "Some dwarf you make."

"Thank the gods." Liz snarkily replied and winked at the grumpy dwarf wiping down the bar counter. "Grumps has cooked up some sausage, seared toma-toes, stewed and spiced fabas, crisped fatha eggs and toast."

"Yeah? That's a bit toned down for him. But, I'll take it. And some coffea brew please."

Liz grimaced.

"Ugh, that foul, bitter black stuff? Are you sure?"

Joan smiled happily. "Absolutely. It's black, like my heart, and the best part of dwarven food."

"Och, the lass kens dwarvish braca."

"I'll fucking fight for coffea brew with my life, Grumps." 

"Ah reckon ye wull. Bit, they ca' me Grumtz, nae Grumps." The dwarf muttered to himself. "Tis a guid dwarvish name."

Joan ignored the muttering grumpy old keister and turned back toward Liz. 

"Coffea brew."

"Yeah, yeah. Bitter brew for a bitter heart, coming right up", Liz rolled her eyes with a playful smile and sauntered off to the kitchen.