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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. ;~;]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
[Voice/Action]
Date: 2011-03-25 02:00 am (UTC)Okay. It shouldn't take me too long to get there.
[After a couple of minutes, she shows up. It doesn't take long to recognize him; even from the small picture in the journal, the green hair stands out.] So how does this work? Are you supposed to drink the medicine, or rub it on the wound?
[Action] It's aaaall good, bb! :)b
Date: 2011-03-25 06:01 am (UTC)He pulls a vial out of a bag around his shoulder—all powder-form, about the length of an index finger.]
You just have to mix it in a drink. You can consume it as a powder, but it's a little harder to deal with like that, y'know?
[Action] 1/2
Date: 2011-03-29 12:13 am (UTC)[And she'll start with her standard procedure for dealing with people who she doesn't trust or people who won't tell her what she wants to know immediately...]
[Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 12:15 am (UTC)Re: [Action] 1/2
Date: 2011-03-29 12:21 am (UTC)YOU BROKE IT, LOOK AT IT, IT'S CROOKED.]
WHY?!
Re: [Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 12:22 am (UTC)W-WHAT'D I DO WRONG?!
[Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 12:27 am (UTC)...Doesn't seem like I hit you hard enough, though, or else you'd have a broken nose at the very least. [She's cracking her knuckles, debating whether or not she should try again.]
Re: [Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 12:39 am (UTC)Th-that seems a little extreme, doesn't it?!
[Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 12:49 am (UTC)Re: [Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 12:56 am (UTC)What if you gave yourself a little cut on the finger? Maybe?
[Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 01:14 am (UTC)[...and makes a decent-sized cut on the front of her leg, just above her knee. She'd rather not resort to causing injury to herself, but she knows that she had hit him there, so she figures that continuing to hit Ian would have a similar lack of effect, and it would make it less likely that he'd give her anything.] Hand me one of those vials.
Re: [Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 01:23 am (UTC)He offers her the vial--one already mixed into a liquid, ready for chuggin'. She'll find upon using it that that wound will close up within 5-10 seconds, leaving but a little blood from when it'd been open.]
[Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 01:30 am (UTC)Re: [Action]
Date: 2011-03-29 03:47 am (UTC)