magick shoppe, open late

[galdorleod]

Who: Howl and you! (open)
When: Ieneuer (January) 12th, 4:00 p.m. - Ieneur 13th, approximately 2:00 a.m.
Where: Entertainment District
What: Howl is holding a grand opening for his new spells & potions store/pawn shop, Pendragon's. Not only is he offering discounted witch services, but he put out an advertisement last week looking for new bonds, part-time help, suppliers of ingredients, and fellow collectors of magic items.
Warnings: none (...for now.)

⛧ Four o'Clock Opening.

Pendragon's is easy to miss if you aren't looking for it. Set up in the bottom floor of a run-down two-story building, squeezed tightly between two similar block flats, the three-step stoop leading to the front door is lit by two magitech lanterns on either side. A cheap wooden sign with the letters Pendragon's painted in purple hangs to the left of the door, beneath one of the lamps. The shop's curtains are pulled open, but only dim light from candles and a fireplace can be seen from the outside. The floor above is a one-room apartment, for use as the owner's residence, but its windows are dark and quiet.

At four o'clock, just as the winter sun is starting to set, Howl emerges from the front door, dressed to the nines. Large oval-shaped tanzanites hang from his ears. As usual, he's practically dripping with spells specially crafted to beautify himself: his plain black hair as been changed to a flaxen, lemony blond, smooth and feathery in texture; his skin is supple and devoid of blemishes or any trace of facial hair or stubble; his eyebrows are uniform and his thin lips are slightly flushed. And while magic can't take away that glassy, slightly lifeless look he always has in his blue eyes, a spell has tinted them to match the deep color of his earrings and clothes.

He props the door open wide, glances out at the street with a smile, and heads back inside, and with that, Pendragon's has officially been established.

a. how may I help you?

For someone as flamboyant as Howl, the inside of Pendragon's is relatively modest.

On the left side of the entrance, a tea table and four chairs are set up beside the shop's largest window, along with several large bookshelves and mantles carrying assorted foci. On the right side of the entrance is a large stone hearth with a mantel built in an arch around it, forming part of the support for the open chimney in the ceiling above. A small broom closet beside the fireplace has a row of hooks on the wall beside it for the storage of hats, coats and umbrellas. Observant visitors may notice that despite this building being two stories, there are no stairs leading upwards anywhere... but, a large circular runic inscription is drawn on the wooden ceiling and support beams in white chalk.

In front of the hearth is a work table, already covered with a few half-made spells, and along the shop's right wall and far back wall are rows and rows of shelves and cabinets and countertops, some shut with doors but others open to the air and clearly stuffed with a huge variety of strange items - fruits and vegetables, folded fabrics, tools, broken tools, candles, and dozens and dozens of labelled bottles and boxes and packages.

Dried flowers, strings of garlic and tulip bulbs, animal skulls, broken seashells and other various natural knickknacks are strewn about the shop - as decor, probably, or are they there for some other purpose? Whatever the reason may be, the inside of Pendragon's carries the same scent of hyacinth flowers that always follows Howl, and even though the door's propped open to the cold winter air, the inside of the shop is warm and comfortable.

Howl is sitting at the workbench, flipping through a large tome, when he hears someone walk in. He picks up his head and trains his eyes on the person who has just walked through his front door. A customer? Or, maybe someone who noticed his call for other interested persons?

"Welcome!" he says pleasantly, placing a bookmark on his page and closing the tome. "Don't worry - you're in the right place. How may I serve you?"

b. what're you buyin'? [semi-wildcard]

Most people who come to Pendragon's on its opening day are there out of curiosity, interested in the advertisement's promise of "prices and methods unique to any witch of the Coven" and "a blend of Mirrorbound and Haven magic." And to his credit, for the most part, Howl does not disappoint - the standard offerings are priced well, especially for a spell and witchcraft shop located in this area of the city and with such unusual business hours. (How exactly did he accomplish this? Hmm... how, indeed?)

Some magical offerings are in very unusual forms, which may be the unique "blends" and "methods" he was referring to. For example, one featured item is something called drying power - a dust-like substance claimed to instantly dry or dehydrate any person or thing that it's sprinkled upon. The small note beside its display mentions the possibility of adding it to tattoos, thus making life much easier for monsters sensitive to water, but it asserts that its potential uses are "surely infinite" if a buyer is creative enough.

So, what kind of magic are you in the market for? An experienced wizard like him can surely help you find it...

c. what're you sellin'? [semi-wildcard]

But, Howl isn't just trying to make sales to whomever comes inside. He's always on the lookout for the next totem or charm that could take his magic to the next level, the next specimen that could amplify his potions and inscriptions.

Are you a monster? Howl stands a bit closer to you than you may be comfortable with as you converse. He seems to be looking you over, judging the qualify of your scales or fur or skin or chitin. Perhaps you've got very big horns - or very big... other parts.

Witches aren't exempt from his curiosity, either. Those with strong magical auras interest him the most, but other unusual attributes are sure to catch his attention, especially if they suggest recent intimacy with a monster - fresh puncture wounds from vampire fangs, the scent of turnskin musk, rashes from chimera poison.

He sure is doing a lot staring. What's the deal with that? Despite how long you're shopping in the store, or how long your consultation goes on for, he won't just come out and say it.

⛧ Two o'Clock Closing.

d. one last call for alcohol.

It's early Wednesday morning when it's time to finally close his first day of business. The wide room is quiet except for the soft crackling of a speechless fire in the hearth. With the shop empty, Howl is thankful he can simply step outside, turn off the lamps, and call it a night.

By now, he'd taken off the long velvet coat he'd started the day with; it had become too hot in the warm interior of Pendragon's, especially when multiple people were there. Once he opens the front door, a cold burst of winter air hits him and he's reminded why he chose to wear it that day to begin with. His first impulse is to turn around and get his coat, but he realizes a second later how silly that is. It only takes a few seconds to close up for the night. And yet, he feels compelled to look out into the dark street, to pause and let the chilly air blow against his cheeks.

Perhaps he's being hasty. Howl turns back inside. After retrieving his coat, a half-empty bottle of brandy and a shot glass, he returns to the door and steps outside. Instead of putting out the lamps, he takes a seat on the stoop and pours himself a drink - much like he did on the first night he moved in to this new building back in October - and settles back to quietly watch the late night revelers walk by.


((ooc: I marked prompts B and C as "semi-wildcard," as weird as that is, bc they're left open for you to decide the specifics of what your character is at Pendragon for and/or what Howl might be interested in about your character. I hope that makes sense! ^_^;; If you want to contact me to plot anything or ask a question, you can PM me, poke me on plurk at lazdo, or DM me on Discord at OddLazdo#2470. tysm!))

Comments

Closing

[wylderrant]

Iramaat's been feeling the sense of anticipation and excitement rolling over their bond for most of the day. She hasn't dropped by yet - in fact, she planned to drop by right at this exact moment, because she figures she ought to leave the best (her) to last. Her hooves clip-clop on cobblestones as she comes up to the stoop and spots her bonded sitting in the lamplight. Her mouth splits in a smile and she raises her hand as she approaches out of the darkness, bundled up in her own jacket and cold-weather clothing.

"Howl! You're still here!"

Of course, she knew that.

Re: Closing

[galdorleod]

As he sits there, sipping on the amber liquor, it's Howl's turn to feel a prickle of excitement. It's not the drink or the cold. It's something familiar, coming from someone familiar.

He looks up just as the clopping sound of Iramaat's hooves reaches his ears. Even while bundled up, he recognizes the lithe and boyish body beneath her layers from the way she moves.

"Yes, I'm here," he says calmly, returning her coy confidence with a smile as she trots towards him. After pulling his coat closer around him, he sits up a bit straighter and motions for her to take a seat and join him. "This is where I live now, you know."

[wylderrant]

"It is rather late, isn't it? You might have gone to bed or something," Iramaat replies with a little laugh. She settles in next to him with another of those wide smiles and sighs as she relaxes a little.

"How's the day gone? Good business? Good opening?"

[galdorleod]

She has a point there. He concedes it with a playful half-shrug and pulls her snugly against his side.

"It went well, yes," he answers with a nod. Howl sounds as if he's in good spirits, or at least normal, but his bonded would be able to sense how tired he is - a sign of just how many customers he had on his opening day. "You never know how something like this will go, when you first start. But after today, I think I'm going to be alright. It seems my suspicions were right about people needing a place to find spells in the Entertainment District late at night."

a + b-ish!

[autotome]

[ what did he come here for? well— the dragon’s sky scraping height ducks under pendragon’s door frame and only barely chips at it with his older pair of horns. in a hulking fur poncho to keep the outside cold at bay, eren exhales once the warmth inside hits his face and scales— it would be nonsense to take it off, now. the hotter, the better. the only thing missing under his garments is . . . leg, in its place a wooden crutch lodged under his arm. he might be recognizable as is, with his tail and extravagant gem-like horns poking out of the four pre-existing holes in his hood— but when approached, he unbuttons the spaces for the horns and pulls the hood back. ]

Two things.

[ one was actually seeing howl. as the witch could note, much has happened since they’ve parted ways in dorchacht, most of them the more than apparent reason why eren hadn’t shown up sooner. two— there’s an actual product (or products) he’s looking for, but that could mostly wait. ]

[galdorleod]

[ The scrape and thunk of horns against door frame possess his attention first. Then, the hulking size of his guest - dragon, clearly, which is very pleasing. And then, he can't help but notice the soft knocking of the crutch against the floor to compensate for the amputated limb.

It's the guest's voice that finally triggers a spark of recognition and makes him glance upwards again to finally see Eren's face, no longer hidden by his hood. As different as he looks, there's no doubt that it's him. He remembers his eyes. They looked down at him, sorrowfully, as he bled to death during the Battle of Dorchacht.

Howl gazes at him inscrutably with his empty, enchanted blue eyes for a moment, still smiling. Then he finally stands and walks around the work table towards him. ]

...Only two? I'll take that as a challenge to my salesmanship. [ He stops before him, maintaining the same forced smile. ] ...Eren. Good evening.

[autotome]

[ glassy eyes that look like fixed balls and not eyes, a botox smile, it reminds him of historia— no, krista. krista would always act like she’s hiding something, that she had to be a certain way that the majority would enjoy because it seemed perfect, somehow. lifting his lip for his tongue the flick out and click in the process— he doesn’t seem to appreciate the falsity. ]

You look creepy, [ outright, as pleasant of a greeting as ever, then secondly, as he adjusts the crutch and his weight to it and a near haggard exhale, ] drop it.

[galdorleod]

[ The disposition of niceties doesn't appear to throw him off, aside from from the bluntness of the word creepy making him widen his eyes for a few seconds. His smile doesn't waver - no, in the seconds that pass after Eren speaks, Howl's expression softens and becomes less forced. He has a better idea of what to expect from this interaction now, even if it appears to be hostility, and that soothes the anxiety deep in the recesses of his mind. ]

Only the most dominant of alpha dragons would come into my shop, refrain from even the simplest of greetings, announce that he's looking for assistance with two requests, and then proceed to insult me...

[ He looks down at the crutch and missing leg again. That is new since the last time they saw each other, without any doubt. ]

...while looking very creepy himself.

d

[bloodwit]

[ viren hadn't meant to attend pendragon's grand opening, despite dearly wishing to do so; the chances of him making a mortifying spectacle of himself, drawn to monster parts as he is, was a bit too high for his liking - perhaps another time he would find out what the completed interior of pendragon's has in store. ]

[ but now it's very late, so he'd been more assured in its closing. bundled in his furs (complete with a warming charm that's waning in its efficacy as the day had worn on, thus his haste to return home), he only passes by the shop - with a longing look at the sign, his eyes eventually drawn downwards to the witch at the door's stoop. ]

[ ah. that does inspire him to pause in his step. ]

Have a successful first day, Howl?

[galdorleod]

[ The familiar voice causes Howl to pick up his head and look towards its source, his overgrown bangs falling over his face like tattered curtains. Although his beautifying spells have weakened slightly over the course of the night, he still gives Viren a characteristically pulchrous smile. ]

Aye, I did. Did you come to express your support, Lord Viren? I'm honored.

[ Howl rises to his feet - perhaps giving Viren a opportunity to glance at the shot glass and bottle that was on the step beside him - and descends the steps to speak with him respectfully on the sidewalk. ]

But, it's I who should honor you! Drying power was a huge seller.

[bloodwit]

I... not exactly. But — congratulations, all the same.

[ howl descends the few steps, and viren straightens himself to his full height. he notes the bottle with a single glance; he has to focus on which to address first, that or howl's words. the latter wins out. ]

[ more offhandedly, ]

Weren't you meant to reward me handsomely for that?

[galdorleod]

[ Howl's gaze rises with Viren's crest. Beholding the size of Aefenglom Dragons always gives him a tiny thrill. They are magnificent, beautifully imposing in the same way as his favored transformation from before he was forcibly transported here.

He tips his head thoughtfully, meandering a few steps to the left while he speaks, still openly admiring Viren. ]

I did, didn't I! I'd have never known it was save to use on people without you. [ Howl stops once he has a good view of Viren's wings. ] You mentioned being interested in it for tattoos, if my recollection is correct.

A

[omnicrafter]

Admittedly, the advertisement was very appealing to her curiosity, as strongly presented as it was. Irhya enters the shop and looks around, finally meeting Howl's eyes as he greets her from afar.

"Am I, truly?" Irhya says with a hint of coy dubiousness. "At the right time, I should hope." Her footsteps take her closer, looking him up and down -- yes, he... certainly passes the litmus test for a mage who's proud of his work. But her eyes are also drawn every which way, with something of interest in nearly every corner of the store. She told herself she wouldn't go crazy, but...

"Well, I came in to pick your brain about help with my overall weakness to a witch's magic, but I seem to be having another dilemma. There's... there's so much stuff. Gods, but it really sucks not being a witch..."

[galdorleod]

Oh - now this is interesting. Help with a weakness to magic, sure, he can do that. That's simple business. But... not a witch, she says? As he crosses the room to meet her, Howl studies the woman from head to toe. Those ears suggest Turnskin, perhaps, or maybe a Chimera of some kind, if she's a recent arrival and still in the process of transforming. Very interesting.

"If there's some way for me to assist a beautiful Monster with her troubles," he says, "then I am in your service." He stops before her, and with a smile, takes a bow and gestures towards the tea table by the window. "Why don't you take a seat? We can start with a consultation."

[omnicrafter]

Ah, this again... she's met quite a few flirts lately. But Irhya grins, taking it in kind as she pulls out one of the chairs at the table.

"Yes, I suppose that would be appropriate. I once prided myself on my resistance to magic, but... that was before I became a monster, I'm afraid." She folds her hands in front of her and leans back. "It's just frustrating as all hell when it feels like a glaring weakness any witch with half a brain could exploit at any time. So I thought perhaps you might have some suggestions as to how I might mitigate it a bit."

[galdorleod]

Howl takes a seat across from her at the little table. As he speaks, he picks up a small kettle set to the side and adds two scoops of fragrant tea leaves to the filtered basin.

"Well," he begins casually. "The first thing I must recommend to any new Monster is to bond with a Witch. It really is just as important as those Haven Witches say it is. So, if you don't have one yet, it should be your highest priority."

After filling the kettle with water, Howl sets it on an iron trivet at the center of the table and places his fingertips on the lid. "After that," he continues, "there are a number of other, basic self-care practices I would want to ensure you are respecting, before starting to consider anything else. May I ask what type of Monster you are?"

b.

[rightfoot]

Louis isn't actually looking for anything in particular. He's here because he's curious, and if he happens to find something that is useful to him, he'll go for it. he's spent a lot of time working, between home and at the bar, that he hasn't spent much time to himself.

He feels and looks childish without his antlers, but there's nothing he can do about it. In order to keep himself looking his best, he opts for a robe with a hood, that he props up just enough to hide the bandages around the top of his head. He's making no effort to hide his fac or anything else about himself.

Under the cape, he wears a dress shirt, black pants, a tie, and suspenders.

But, an idea sparks him upon looking.

"Do you have things that encourage healing. Bone growth, things like that?"

You know, speed the antlers along. Maybe.

[galdorleod]

Howl had greeted the hooded customer when he entered, but when he moved to browse instead of accepting his offer to help him find something, he left him alone to focus on someone else in the shop at the time, never having the chance to get a good look at the person's face. It isn't until several minutes later, after the first customer has left, that Howl hears a familiar voice and turns to see a familiar face behind the hood.

"Bone growth?" he echoes, as he looks upon the deer face. Howl knows him... he's seen him around in the Coven and spoken to him on the network before.

"I think I've got something that can work for you," Howl says after a pause. He brings a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "...Louis, was it?"

[rightfoot]

Louis' eyes follow the leaving visitor, and when the other is gone, he tugs back his hood, just a little bit, to show where his antlers would and should be. There's nothing there. And while this is a totally natural step, and occurs yearly even here - he'd still rather recover from it as quickly as possible.

"If I can't totally avoid shedding antlers, then I may see what I can do to quickly get them to start growing back," he notes. It does seem like an odd request, but Louis is here for odd reasons he hadn't even initially considered. His own areas of expertise don't include things where there'd be healing or potions involved - not yet, anyway.

"And yeah. I'm Louis. The one and only legitimate deer. You must be Howl then." He's heard of him. He's seen him. But Louis has kept his head down much of the time lately. Not one for side conversations and not making many public appearances. He doesn't like being seen too much without the antlers adding to his height and overall appearance.

c. (some b mixed in as well!)

[silentsavant]

Morphing into a monster has done nothing to erase Soren's affinity for magic and spellcasting, even when, or perhaps sometimes especially when, the system is foreign to him.

No longer can he cast his own magic without the aid of proxies, yet the dragon has had his fair share of burying his nose in tomes and sitting in on classes taught by the Coven's instructors. He may not be able to exercise the full capabilities of a witch here, but this disadvantage has long since stopped bothering him as much as it once had. He's come to adapt and find ways around those shortcomings. Plus, it helps to surround himself with witches who can cast the spells he cannot.

There is one school of magic that a monster can more readily accomplish up until the final step that requires the magic of a witch: alchemy. Working at Inkchanted and under Waver's expert guidance - another monster perhaps more distressed by his complete lack of magic than Soren - he finds himself focusing even more on mixing ingredients together to create the effects desired by the clients who come in... and for broader purposes. It is for these reasons and more that, despite his current ailments, he decides to make a detour to investigate the stock and the prices of Pendragon's.

He didn't get a chance to be greeted by Howl as he came in, thronged by prospective customers as he had been at the time Soren slipped through. It didn't matter much to him either way; he knew that he would be recognized eventually and approached on the wizard's own accord. He takes his time strolling past each curio and concoction with quiet interest, the comfortable heat inside of the building stirring a pinch more vitality in him... but not quite curing the worn cast of his expression nor the drag of his sore limbs. He pays a few of the women who cluster about each other at the far corner and whisper with alarm and contempt glinting in their eyes as they pretend not to stare at him no mind. After at least a quarter hour of window shopping, he feels Howl's eyes on him, too, and after scrutinizing the powdery substances with indeterminable ingredients and other unique blends purported to accomplish certain effects, he turns his attention to Howl.

Even if he is staring for longer than is normally appropriate, Soren can expect at first that he might be staring simply because he recognizes him, or even because the dragon's condition has deteriorated somewhat since he last saw him. Even his scales might appear a little duller, the scarlet hue of his folded leathery wing membrane faded like weathered bricks bordered by burnt coal. Most of his body is bundled up in thick woolen layers and obscured from sight, but this much is still quite obvious. Still, he's more observant than most, and has witnessed how the wizard's eyes fall upon other monsters. This doesn't feel all that much different.

"Good evening, Howl. Is there something you wish to say to me? Or do you take to admiring all of your scaled and feathered customers?"

[galdorleod]

Soren's guess is not far off. When enough of Howl's attention is freed up for him to notice a Dragon has entered Pendragon's, his eyes linger on him, looking over his horns and scales and wings. Dragons are of particular interest to the Wizard, not just because their parts make for powerful ingredients and are hard to come by, but because he admires their size and strength. It doesn't take long for Howl to get a sense of familiarity from this one, though, and he soon recognizes him as the Dragon who helped him move - the one who used to be a war mage.

His gaze after that is softer. And, maybe, he makes an attempt to be a little more inconspicuous... but only a little. When they've finally wandered close enough to speak to each other, he isn't caught off guard by Soren calling him out.

"Ah, rather, it's the scaled ones I admire most enthusiastically," Howl answers with a smile. After excusing himself from the patron he'd just finished assisting, he turns to Soren and nods in greeting. "Thank you for joining me at Pendragon's opening, Soren. It's been a while now, hasn't it?"

[silentsavant]

"A few months," he half-agrees, then makes cursory glances about their surroundings as if to indicate his next remark. "You're a very popular stop for the locals tonight. They're whispering about this shop and its handsome proprietor on the streets. I stopped in to see for myself what you had to offer. Your prices are generally competitive, and your selection is... unique." His eyes fall upon the blends where Drying Powder can be found before he settles his attention back up to Howl. "Enough to make me wonder what sorts of tricks you're hiding up those gauzy sleeves of yours."

Is that a wry remark or a serious comment prying for details? Soren's dry and unexpressive demeanor makes it difficult to tell.

c doesn't allow me to make "he wants the d" puns but it does allow me to torment Steak

[battlebound]

After several encounters with Howl, Steak isn't so bothered by the staring, or the closeness (lord only knows they were much closer under the mistletoe hanging outside his shop not too long ago). He doesn't pay it any attention at first, as he browses, months of unused magic lingering, a painful swell in his chest. But he's fine, that's fine. He's handling that.

But it does mean that his aura burns more hotly than ever, a bright magical fire straining at the seams to be let loose but Steak is more interested in several of the tools stashed on the shelves than the danger zone of his magic.

He picks up a particularly pointy looking thing and turns to where he feels the gaze lingering on him —

"What's this for?"

[galdorleod]

Steak might as well be a walking, literal, actual steak with an aura like that. Some of the monsters in Howl's shop turn their heads to look at Steak after he passes them by, eyebrows raised upon the discomfiting realization that a Witch nearby seems to close to exploding. Howl senses this too, and he doesn't like the way one pair of guests shuffles quickly out of Pendragon's, seemingly in response to Steak's arrival.

He walks up to his friend, trying not to look overly concerned about him, lest it come off as intrusive or impolite. With a gentle touch, he places one hand on Steak's shoulder and the other on the item, pushing it back down onto the shelf.

"It's for inscriptions," he answers plainly. "Steak... are you alright? You've got far too much magic stuck in you - and on the night of the new moons, too. It's dangerous."

[battlebound]

The build up had eased, for a while, directly after bonding with Marie. And that had been reason enough for Steak to think it was manageable with a bond, more or less the same way he'd found bonding with Red Wine eased some of the effects of turning into a monster.

It should be fine. It's not like he really needs magic to do what he was built to do. His swords have fulfilled that duty all too well, and Aefenglom's (unintentional) implication that he needs more power? That's an insult to all he's worked for, every battle fought and won until the day he was thrown into this bullshit.

(And, perhaps, just perhaps, he hates the idea of having to sit and study magic instead of doing things.)

But it should be fine, right? It may not be comfortable, but he's got energy to spare and Howl's worry is answered with slightly-too-raucous laughter.

"Don't worry, I feel great!" But his eyes gleam too brightly, there's just a few too many teeth in his grin, a tremble in his hand as he offers a thumbs up about it.