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pearheaded[The bar door suddenly swings open. As the lightning crashes behind him, illuminating a crisp white outline around his figure, Ian walks silently in, dripping with rain water, a hoodie drawn over his unruly green hair. He glances to the left—to the right—before sitting down with a shadow crossing his features. After a beat, he looks up to the bartender, brown eyes all too serious.
And then—]
... A pitcher of water, please~!
[That was pretty much an obvious outcome, but anyway, not important!! What totally is important is that he's sitting at the bar happily drinking his pitcher of water. Granted he's inhumanly drinking the whole thing in one go, but hey, what can ya do? And then he'll go ahead and play some darts. And fail at it by not hitting the board at all. What, does he look like a good aim? Hell naw. And when that's said and done, he'll hang out with the drunks and sing songs, because that's what responsible adults do. Is he drunk? No. Can you tell? Probably not.
IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT, BABY. PARTY HARDY!!]
[Ian proceeds to wander off into the woods like he usual does, in excellent spirits. There are no robbers or thieves to worry about out here, man. That's always a great thing. But ah, he needs to prep some more medicine for the people here, so he goes to the store first and foremost. When you see him going through the woods, he'll be hefting a bag of sugar on his shoulder (and Birdy on his head, until they part ways at a local tree |D).
He ventures to his usual sleeping place outside: a shallow space roofed by a fallen tree, and proceeds to do what he's done for quite a long time. Eyesight cutting through the dark, he presses a pocket knife into his wrist and lets fall droplets of blood into a bowl—it aches, but it's only temporary he tells himself; the wound closes soon after the blade is removed, and he rolls the bowl around and around in hand, letting the red coat a fine layer.
When it dries, he scrapes it into a powdery pile, and adds the sugar.
... viola. He wipes up his arm and holds up a filled vial, content. Whether or not he's got peeping toms is up to you.]
[Voice]
Hey there new feathers! My name is Ian Kolansky, and I'm a medicine seller. If you ever find yourselves injured, whether barely or horribly, have no fear, I am here! My cure-all medicine will heal any flesh wound or broken bone in a matter of moments! Not to mention, it'll even grow back anything severed. Well, as long as it's not your head and you're, y'know, alive and all that.
And here in Luceti, the usual payments of 19.99 are cut down to...
0.00! That's right, it's free here! Everything is, I'll have you know! Just ask good ol' Ian here, and I'll get you some right away!
[Why not force some sort of payment? Well... how the hell would he even? Luceti can give just about anything. He's pledged to himself he'd always do this job, and the lack of payment certainly won't be stopping him any time soon; he views it as a... as a promise to himself. 'This is what you're doing at home, so don't forget it'.
...Though, the pay would have been great to have. ;~;]
And then—]
... A pitcher of water, please~!
[That was pretty much an obvious outcome, but anyway, not important!! What totally is important is that he's sitting at the bar happily drinking his pitcher of water. Granted he's inhumanly drinking the whole thing in one go, but hey, what can ya do? And then he'll go ahead and play some darts. And fail at it by not hitting the board at all. What, does he look like a good aim? Hell naw. And when that's said and done, he'll hang out with the drunks and sing songs, because that's what responsible adults do. Is he drunk? No. Can you tell? Probably not.
IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT, BABY. PARTY HARDY!!]
[Ian proceeds to wander off into the woods like he usual does, in excellent spirits. There are no robbers or thieves to worry about out here, man. That's always a great thing. But ah, he needs to prep some more medicine for the people here, so he goes to the store first and foremost. When you see him going through the woods, he'll be hefting a bag of sugar on his shoulder (and Birdy on his head, until they part ways at a local tree |D).
He ventures to his usual sleeping place outside: a shallow space roofed by a fallen tree, and proceeds to do what he's done for quite a long time. Eyesight cutting through the dark, he presses a pocket knife into his wrist and lets fall droplets of blood into a bowl—it aches, but it's only temporary he tells himself; the wound closes soon after the blade is removed, and he rolls the bowl around and around in hand, letting the red coat a fine layer.
When it dries, he scrapes it into a powdery pile, and adds the sugar.
... viola. He wipes up his arm and holds up a filled vial, content. Whether or not he's got peeping toms is up to you.]
[Voice]
Hey there new feathers! My name is Ian Kolansky, and I'm a medicine seller. If you ever find yourselves injured, whether barely or horribly, have no fear, I am here! My cure-all medicine will heal any flesh wound or broken bone in a matter of moments! Not to mention, it'll even grow back anything severed. Well, as long as it's not your head and you're, y'know, alive and all that.
And here in Luceti, the usual payments of 19.99 are cut down to...
0.00! That's right, it's free here! Everything is, I'll have you know! Just ask good ol' Ian here, and I'll get you some right away!
[Why not force some sort of payment? Well... how the hell would he even? Luceti can give just about anything. He's pledged to himself he'd always do this job, and the lack of payment certainly won't be stopping him any time soon; he views it as a... as a promise to himself. 'This is what you're doing at home, so don't forget it'.
...Though, the pay would have been great to have. ;~;]
[Voice // Filtered 95%]
Date: 2011-03-15 09:30 am (UTC)I know it may seem somewhat... empty for me to say to not be so afraid here, but I hope that it means something when I say this place has been kinder to non-human sapients than some worlds are.
It likely does not matter as much here, because we are all united under the commonality of us all being prisoners of the Malnosso... and all the universes are so different from each other that it is hardly fair for us to prioitize one species over another.
[Robert sighs a little.] Of course, there is always the chance of bigots here... I have seen some myself, unfortunately. But certainly most people here would try to protect you if at all possible. [Robert would, if "protect" didn't involve fighting of any kind.]
Re: [Voice // Filtered 95%]
Date: 2011-03-16 07:01 am (UTC)[Voice // Filtered 95%]
Date: 2011-03-16 06:55 pm (UTC)That, and it's inherently difficult for him to trust other people, what with his social anxiety. Still, Ian's words really do ring true when he thinks about it, and that fact is probably one of the oddest ones he's had to come to grips with here.]
You have remarkable fortitude. Many in your position would not maintain such optimism, but it is commendable that you do.
Forgive me, I ought to give you a proper introduction instead of being so unprofessional. My name is Professor Robert Alexander Hastings. [He allows a small but genuine smile - it's getting easier to give those.]
Re: [Voice // Filtered 95%]
Date: 2011-03-17 08:56 am (UTC)[Voice // Filtered 95%]
Date: 2011-03-17 10:32 pm (UTC)Re: [Voice // Filtered 95%]
Date: 2011-03-19 06:59 am (UTC)[He smiles a little. Yeah... this was all gonna be okay.]