Post by Avaritia on Dec 10, 2009 18:13:01 GMT -5
Setting : Mid-day in the business district. A bit on the cloudy side, with darker clouds on the horizon threatening to bring a rather cold spout of rain. Late autumn.
Status : Relatively open. Would be nice if you asked.
It was another busy day in the city. People and animals, some strays, some leashed, made their way through the crowds. Stall owners stood vigilant over their stands, ever watching for those who seemed to want a five-finger discount. All the while, they shouted out their wares; "Fresh fruit!" one cried. "Scrolls!" cried another. But after venturing to and from the city for so long, one learned to tune out the unimportant things. To the Greykin that weaved through the crowd, there were only physical bodies in his way, and he was very careful to avoid bumping into anyone. The way he did this made his skills clear. Even though he was weighted down with several bags and sacks filled with items of some sort, he moved with grace. Perhaps it was natural, or perhaps it was practice. Maybe it was both.
Either way, the elf was surely marvelous to a commoner. He wore a pale, long-sleeved, button-up shirt made of a fine material. A simple cloak hung loosely around his shoulders, the hood drawn up over his head; it enough to keep him at least somewhat warm. He may have been too focused on his business to pay the cold much mind, but it certainly helped him to concentrate.
At last, he came to his destination. The small shop stood along the main street, but so often it went unnoticed for anything but medicinal remedies. If only the people understood the potential that lied inside of the alchemical shop. His black fingers reached up to his hood and drew it back, revealing his long hair that he tied off to the side and rested over his shoulder. The warm, familiar air of the shop was rather welcoming. A fire danced in the hearth, a pot of what he assumed to be stew hung over it. The sound of footsteps came from the stairs as an older Morin man made his way down, plump with a good life. "Making lunch, are we?" the Greykin spoke, smiling respectfully to the silver-haired man, "I hope I am not intruding."
"Nonsense, Jack! You are always welcomed here, and you know that. The stew is no where near done yet," the other man heartily replied as he reached the floor and was quick to attend to his lunch. He stirred it generously, took a taste, and shook his head to himself. "Indeed, not done." His attention turned back to Jack now. "So, my boy, what brings you here? Do come in, won't you? It's cold out there."
"Thank you." Grateful for the everlasting hospitality, he stepped inside the shop, careful to mind both his and the owner's belongings and wares as he made his way through the threshold.
"My, you've certainly brought a lot with you!"
"I've a few things that you may be interested in," Jack began, placing down a satchel, "and I'd like to leave something with you, if you don't mind."
"Not at all! Please, show me, I'm eager to see what you've come up with now..."
Status : Relatively open. Would be nice if you asked.
----
It was another busy day in the city. People and animals, some strays, some leashed, made their way through the crowds. Stall owners stood vigilant over their stands, ever watching for those who seemed to want a five-finger discount. All the while, they shouted out their wares; "Fresh fruit!" one cried. "Scrolls!" cried another. But after venturing to and from the city for so long, one learned to tune out the unimportant things. To the Greykin that weaved through the crowd, there were only physical bodies in his way, and he was very careful to avoid bumping into anyone. The way he did this made his skills clear. Even though he was weighted down with several bags and sacks filled with items of some sort, he moved with grace. Perhaps it was natural, or perhaps it was practice. Maybe it was both.
Either way, the elf was surely marvelous to a commoner. He wore a pale, long-sleeved, button-up shirt made of a fine material. A simple cloak hung loosely around his shoulders, the hood drawn up over his head; it enough to keep him at least somewhat warm. He may have been too focused on his business to pay the cold much mind, but it certainly helped him to concentrate.
At last, he came to his destination. The small shop stood along the main street, but so often it went unnoticed for anything but medicinal remedies. If only the people understood the potential that lied inside of the alchemical shop. His black fingers reached up to his hood and drew it back, revealing his long hair that he tied off to the side and rested over his shoulder. The warm, familiar air of the shop was rather welcoming. A fire danced in the hearth, a pot of what he assumed to be stew hung over it. The sound of footsteps came from the stairs as an older Morin man made his way down, plump with a good life. "Making lunch, are we?" the Greykin spoke, smiling respectfully to the silver-haired man, "I hope I am not intruding."
"Nonsense, Jack! You are always welcomed here, and you know that. The stew is no where near done yet," the other man heartily replied as he reached the floor and was quick to attend to his lunch. He stirred it generously, took a taste, and shook his head to himself. "Indeed, not done." His attention turned back to Jack now. "So, my boy, what brings you here? Do come in, won't you? It's cold out there."
"Thank you." Grateful for the everlasting hospitality, he stepped inside the shop, careful to mind both his and the owner's belongings and wares as he made his way through the threshold.
"My, you've certainly brought a lot with you!"
"I've a few things that you may be interested in," Jack began, placing down a satchel, "and I'd like to leave something with you, if you don't mind."
"Not at all! Please, show me, I'm eager to see what you've come up with now..."