[PQ] Strings and ceiling wax, and other fancy stuff

Remi had never had his own shop before. When he was a boy he'd grown up moving around in his father's wagon, travelling merchants as they were. It was only when he'd come to Northaven that he became fixed into one location, but even then he didn't have a proper place to do his work. Instead he all but cleared out the tiny one-room home he'd been given (even trading away his bed for science equipment but also to give himself more room). Though it was true Loren had allowed him the use of his much larger townhome to do the bulk of their experiments, still the alchemist did quite a fair bit of tinkering and creating by himself int he wee hours of the evening and early morning. The idea that there were abandoned shops into which he could move was honestly almost too grand for the alchemist's humble mind to even wrap around. Surely there was some catch? A restriction? Some credential he surely didn't possess that would limit his access to this wonderful resource?  But no, it appeared not. And so, with no small amount of uncertainty and trepidation, Remi had posted a notice asking for assistance, offering whatever alchemy supplies he would create in the coming days as payment. In deciding which structure to turn into his shop, Remi had opted for one made out of stone rather than wood in the hopes that it would withstand an inadvertent explosions and would not retain any unwanted smells. Standing in the streets, Remi folded his arms gently together as he gazed about, mentally outlining what tasks would need to be done and silently praying that perhaps someone would see his notice and offer their assistance. This PQ is open to 2 others! Remi needs help building his alchemy shop! If you would like to join, please post below and we'll get started! 1. Deimos 2. Isla remi Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning And I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go

Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place Deimos had been born into a world of cunning. His mother wouldn’t have allowed for anything less, raising him to be a calculating, meticulous figure. Think about it, she would utter, a voice commanding and demanding even in its softer intonations, arching her brow, rigid and unyielding. Even when his father displayed a more impulsive nature, the Reaper had failed to apply it to his own being, forging along with machinations, with designs, with cold, devious, scheming airs. It broadened into reticence, into nonchalance, into deceptive, specious tendencies, even while he hunted, explored, and trained for grander, stronger capabilities. So when he recognized something advantageous, like the notice posted on the board, he fixated on it, let it burn and kindle in the back of his mind. While he had his own assorted array of talents, death had always been the foremost fixture; alchemy had its values, and he knew only a bare minimum of the subject, never having tamed or learned the arts. His skills had been with swords, with knives, with daggers, with damnation and the gallows, sending cretins and creatures to oblivion. Chemistry could have edges, conveniences, and superiority in some respects, and the warrior wasn’t one to shy away from leverage, influence, or resources. With an alchemist shop in place, wares to beat down opponents, to protect and shield, could be gained easily, rapidly…and he had no qualms about using his strength. He was broad, he was capable, he was durable, muscular and tenacious enough to warrant enough rugged, stalwart force. The sooner it was completed, the sooner he could acquire and secure means of bestial calamity. He wandered down the empty street, noting the relatively familiar form of the keeper from before, apparently puzzling and mapping out where the design would take place, where construction was necessary, where it would hopefully all come together in the end. The beast came from the side, massive and savage, one more bestial form of monsters and demons, but proffered his name instead of bloodshed. “Deimos,” he extended with a nod and a gruff intonation, rapacious gaze lingering on potential foundations, before sliding back to Remi. “I can provide assistance.”

_{Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary}

Isla this won't hurt a bit One might think Isla too busy by far to be able to offer assistance in a matter like this, what with the infirmary and the population's talent for getting hurt on a regular basis. But Remi had offered to help her replace her surgical tools and then some - and if he was going to be giving his assistance at her place of work, it was the least she could do to try and aid him in setting up his own. She found the alchemist together with an altogether intimidating looking man, not that it stopped her. "Remi, hey!" Isla's voice was cheerful, a smile on her face as she picked up her pace to join them, her gaze flicking up to the building he had apparently chosen. "So this is it, huh? I saw your notice - just tell me where you need me." She glanced up at Deimos and offered a polite nod. "My name is Isla," she greeted. "Nice to meet you."

Though Remi was not the most observant of men, it didn't take an auspicious eye to catch sight of the behemoth moving towards him. Glancing over his shoulder, lashes fluttering slightly the impressive form of the reaper made Remi inhale a bit sharply as a befuddled smile creased his friendly face. Swallowing down this strange mixture of apprehension and appreciation, Remi found himself looking decidedly upwards as Deimos neared. "Remi." The alchemist answered immediately, his manners unaffected by the impossibly handsome and hulking man before him. Extending a hand in greeting, if taken, Deimos would find it muscled and calloused, his grip firm. "I would appreciate that." Remi admitted with a small chuckle, his cheeks flushing slightly. The sound of Isla's voice broke whatever tension Remi might have felt, and the man turned buoyantly to see the blonde-haired healer strolling their way. Similar to Isla's thoughts on the matter, Remi was likewise surprised to see her here. There was so much that required the medic's attention and he felt humbled that she would lend her impressive talents and time to assisting him. 'Well..." Remi began, running a hand through his curls and exhaling the breath he'd been holding as he was want to do when he was thinking. "There appears to be quite the amount of clutter inside which will need to be moved. In the back there is also a window that appears to have once opened, but seems to be jammed. For ventilation I think it would be good if that could be fixed first." Nibbling his lip thoughtfully, the alchemist paused once again to think. "And some of the internal columns appear to need reinforcing." Glancing towards Deimos and Isla, Remi paused to see if they wanted to assign themselves to any of the tasks. There is clutter to be removed, a window to be repaired, and columns to be reinforced! No posting order, choose your task and off you go! remi Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning And I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go

Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place Even in his own more charitable moments, the Reaper was still granted apprehension. He could understand it – his hulking form was likely enough, but combined with his nonchalant features, his irreverent tendencies, and the forbearing prowess of death stuck in his soul, he was formidable, glowering, and potentially a behemoth rendered, crafted, and sculpted into tangibility. Some days it worked into his favor, and he was left quite alone, detached, a formidable presence in the shadows, hovering in the darkness, devising, orchestrating, and conducting plots, ruses, or schemes. Today, however, it likely wouldn’t contort into his benefit – the warrior nearly expected the alchemist, with his flickering, bewildered smile, to send him away. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor the last, that another had seen him coming and forbade his presence. Few had ever willingly come towards his company, but he was pleasantly surprised when Remi offered his hand, returning it with his own rough, calloused, battle-hewn grasp, dropping it at the sound of more footsteps. When another approached, blonde and lithe, he was all the more bewildered when she nodded in his direction, polite, not hissing, not spitting, not shooing him from the confines. There was even a nice to meet you, which Deimos had rarely, if ever, heard directed at himself. He proffered a dip of his skull as well to Isla, and then the meeting seemed over; abruptly carried on into their main objective and purpose. He loosened a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His steady, chilling gaze wandered back to the chosen domicile, noting the features and places requiring restoration. Without a word, he strode forward, a beast of action and movement instead of dialogue and discourse, maneuvering over the vacant pieces of clutter lying along the floor. His eyes flicked back and forth from the main columns needing reinforcement, and snagged a few of the more robust pieces of wood, grabbing hold and tucking them under his arms until he managed to snag his desired amount. Then he lowered himself to the ground, not caring about dust, about ash, about ruin, tarnished and sullied from it lifetimes before, attempting to align them in a more triangular shape along the bottom boundaries of the pillar. With brute force and a few handy rocks laying nearby, he whittled and sculpted them to adhere beneath his hands, pushing them into place, where they’d likely be strong, sturdy, and capable of adhering to the post. {Deimos tries to help reinforce the main column!}

_{Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary}

Isla this won't hurt a bit Isla heard Remi out thoughtfully, looking quite the tiny and delicate creature between the two men (Deimos more than her alchemist friend, but still), and as the former set himself away to reinforce the column, internally she felt relieved. Not because she wouldn't have given it her best shot had it been the only task left, but he had the distinct advantage of size and strength. Offering a sunny smile to Remi, she shrugged. "I can do either the window or the clutter. But given your proclivity for fixing and inventing, you could probably improve the window rather than just unjamming it." So saying, Isla headed into the domicile that would soon become the alchemy shop and set about clearing away the clutter, being careful not to get in Deimos's way. First she moved any rubbish and debris out into the street, before grabbing a dead branch to use as a makeshift broom, sweeping out a good deal of the dust and ash and dirt. It would be a long slog, but it would be worth it she was sure. (Isla is trying to declutter the place!)

Feeling more than a bit awkward delegating tasks as he was, Remi was pleased to see both Deimos and Isla seemed quite capable and willing to assist. Smiling happily, the alchemist nodded easily at Isla’s suggestion. Turning Remi went into the back to investigate the hammed window. It looked as though it had been warped by weather or force and then simply jammed back in. The metal used for the frame was damaged and bent, and the runner that it was sat into was likewise bent but also quite dirty. Shaking his head with a light chuckle at the laziness of the previous occupant, Remi set about removing the entire window from the frame. Given its location, Remi judged that it might actually work better with a different mechanism all together: perhaps one that opened differently. Pondering this, Remi studied the frame for a moment thinking on how to continue. Isla ’s cleaning would disturb a small family of chipmunks who had taken up residence in one of the floorboards. Peaking their heads out, they seemed entirely unhappy about the medic’s presence or her attempt to clean. With harsh squeaks and loud admonishments, one of them brazenly tried to crawl up the makeshift broom she had made to bite at her fingers. Deimos ‘s work would go well...at the beginning. One of the sturdier looking pieces of wood that he’d chosen to reinforce the beam was actually rotten inside. As he afixed to the structure, it would all but disintegrate beneath his hands revealing a number of terminates within. He would either have to find better would to work with, or use a different material. No posting order! remi Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning And I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go

Isla this won't hurt a bit If they hadn't been trying to bite her, Isla would have thought the chipmunks typically adorable. She might have even been apologetic about disturbing them - okay, she still was. But this wouldn't do, exactly. "Come on now," she said through a sigh as one of the little braggards clambered up her makeshift broom, Isla darting back from the floorboard full of the little creatures. To avoid getting bit, she did the logical thing and tossed the broomstick away, but that didn't really help matters. Patting herself down, she retrieved a small cloth filled with berries she'd collected that morning, promptly setting it down before the angry chipmunks. "Parley?" she tried, smirking.

Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place He only took a few moments to watch the others’ in their odd little group – Isla to the clutter and debris littering the store, Remi to the window, attempting to improve what was mauled and ruined. Deimos had made his life in being a keen observer – brutal and blunt – but meticulous in his scrutiny. He should’ve been more towards his task, however, because no sooner had he picked what he believed to be a solid piece of wood, did it crumble and disintegrate in his grasp. The beast muffled a sigh of irritation; he would’ve saved himself some time and labor by merely noting the change of weight in this contortion of wood to the next: hollowed and carved out by termites upon closer inspection. Without changing pace, he simply rose from his space on the floor, roamed a few more strides towards the open door, and hurled the piece outside. Had there been an adequate fire nearby, he would’ve gladly chucked it in to its roaring flames and let the pesky nuisances spark and die in its hold – they’d have to wait until he’d cleared the rest and secured the column. He returned quickly, attending to his assignment, and only briefly arching his brow as Isla’s tribulations included a series of vexed, chipmunk noises – he wanted to say something clever out-loud, create some sort of amusing diversion for either of the fellow workers, but the moment was still and gone, and he contorted right back to his role, silent and persevering. If she required his aid in fending off rodents though, he’d certainly oblige (painfully; flexing his fingers swiftly, feeling the life drain invocations pulse at his command). He took his time now – collecting more solidified wood, checking the weight, putting aside those that felt insubstantial; he could verify whether termites had worked their way through those portions later. The warrior also snagged a few metal slabs left over from the last occupant, ensuring they weren’t eaten away by rust, and added them to the pillar.

_{Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary}

Moving outside where he could bang the frame back into shape without bothering anyone too much, the alchemist grabbed the window and breezed through his shop. Passing Deimos on the way through the door (it appeared the man had gotten rid of some wood), Remi merely nodded, moving aside to let the larger man pass, before moving outside himself. Using a rock and the (relatively) flat stone siding of the shop, Remi began to work at the frame to make it a more regular shape once again, rather than the obtuse thing it had been warped into by weather and neglect. The process was tedious but of course the alchemist hardly minded. Bringing it back into the shop and grinning at Isla as she appeared to be negotiating with the current occupants, Remi went to fit the frame back into the window. While it fit, it wasn't quite as elegant as he might have liked. Pursing his lips, the alchemist decided to let it be for now, though he'd certainly want to tackle it later. Moving towards the chimney, Remi began to unclutter it as best he could. His pale face quickly became covered in soot and ash, making his pale eyes seem all the more comically bright for it. Isla would find that the chipmunks were happy to accept her bribe, but not so happy to leave. The largest of them, and coincidentally the one who appeared to be the leader, tried to snag the berries from Isla's fingers and distribute them back to her family. Her dark eyes were untrusting, but she wouldn't just turn away food when it was literally handed to her. Still, she plopped her little hands on her hips and tittered something fierce at Isla before shoving two of the smaller chipmunks back beneath the floor boards. What would the medic do? Let the creatures stay? Or find a more permanent way of removing them? Deimos 's luck would turn and all the boards that he used were now quite solid and free of rot. Apparently the worst had simply been left on the top. However as he began to affix the metal pieces, the stonework above him gave a great gargantuan shift and a cloud of dust fell onto the reaper's face. But this was no ordinary dust; magic had been used to bind the stones together and it was magic dust that now coated his face. It would tingle and make his skin feel extremely and uncomfortably cold. Whether he decided to continue the task would depend entirely on his constitution and willingness to continue to help. No posting order. Last round! remi Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning And I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go

Isla this won't hurt a bit The mama chipmunk, or so Isla assumed, would find no resistance in the medic as she tried to claim the berries. Isla held her hands up to show that she was in no way intending to stop them from their feast of bribes, trying and failing to stop the little smile that threatened to creep across her face. "Okay, okay," she conceded, scooting forward a bit to carefully go about replacing the floorboards. "As far as I know, there were no chipmunks, huh?" Giggling to herself, she rose to her feet and crept around to grab her tree-branch-broom again. Remi would find out about them in his own time, she figured. And they weren't doing any harm exactly, right? Besides, Isla wasn't the type to harm a creature. It went against her whole ethos. So, provided there were no further chipmunk related shenanigans, she would finish her decluttering and help to reveal that there was, in fact, a workable space beneath all of the mess.

Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place The soldier had a few moments of relief: the wood remained solid, steady, and sure, maneuvering beneath his hands and weight as they were dictated. With the portions finally obedient, and free of disaster, he persevered in his efforts and concentration, sliding pieces back and forth to ensure they were adequate for the task, affixing metal rods where they were required. It was the last instances of calm and sanctity – for no sooner had he positioned one of the more formidable chunks in its rightful place, did dust fall from its hiding place, sliding in a single movement that brought an instant reaction to the great, hulking man. He shuddered – and the notion became so bizarre that his brain, his skin, his flesh, couldn’t keep up with the chilling, possessive wake. It was as though he’d been thrown into a frozen lake, plunging deep into its fathoms and depths, incapable of finding the surface, struggling to breathe, struggling to move, struggling to do anything but sit there and shiver. His teeth clicked together and his fingers shook; his mind calculated worlds from beyond the parallel, nonchalant, glacial walls and towering mountains, metallic guards reigning along border walls, tedious hours spent wandering through snow, ice, and rime. The beast might’ve cried out but he couldn’t recall; it felt like hours before his hands would move of their own accord, that his lips didn’t turn blue. The monster shook his head and shoulders, rubbed his hands up and down his thighs in attempts to restore feeling to their filaments – he couldn’t explain anything that lingered on his skin or in his mind, and by simple perseverance, by numbing conjectures, he tried to continue in his efforts to restore the foundation, the column, the portal of the shop. Deimos coughed once or twice too, focused his eyes, his gaze, on his surroundings, but they altered from dimension to dimension, and he was frozen there, stilled and chilled, rapacity clinging to his motions and notions as his fingers felt like knotted, gnarled growths, struggling to maintain their prior abilities. He wasn’t about to stop – but yearned instantly for the frenzy and inferno of fire.

_{Photo and Table by Time
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary}

Though no more than a few buckets worth of ash had now fallen onto the alchemist completely coating him, Remi judged that the chimney was now in working order. With proper ventilation taken care of, Remi moved to see how the others were fairing. Isla ‘s tidying had dramatically and drastically improved the space. Suddenly what was just a jumble of boxes and miscellaneous clutter now looked remarkably like a proper workbench, counter, and shelving for whatever it was the alchemist might decide to place upon it. The board and the inhabitants it concealed were hidden from Remi’s line of sight (for now). Though now that the chipmunks knew that this brand of intruder might provide food they’d likely make their presence known more frequently. The magical coldness that had fallen over Deimos would indeed relinquish its grasp...with time. Seeing the man moving more slowly (with weariness or lack of interest, Remi assumed), the larger reaper would find the kindly alchemist suddenly at his side helping to hoist, tie off, bind, and otherwise carry out the plans the reaper was making clear. Perhaps noting the chill wafting off of the reaper, the alchemist grabbed some of the discarded bits of wood that didn’t appear to have been treated in any way and gently tossed them in the hearth. Easily getting a fire going, the warm light cast by the blaze caused the small shop to transform into something altogether homey if not a bit bare. Stepping back to admire the work they’d done, Remi ran a hand through his (oh so sooty) curls and beamed. Though he, the medic and a soldier made an unlikely trio, the work they’d gone in the past few hours spoke volumes. ” I cannot thank either of you enough.” Remi said, rubbing his arm across his eyes to try and clear some of the ash from his lashes. “As you can see we are a little low on supplies...” Waving a hand at the complete lack of anything in the shop, Remi offered both Isla and Deimos a boyish and unwavering grin. “But you are both in my debt.” Turning towards Isla, Remi brightened. “You will let me know what tools you require? I will make them my first priority.” Turning to Deimos, Remi looked at the towering man for a moment thoughtfully. “I was once a weapons creator–“ Remi began, not meaning to stereotype but merely making an assumption based upon what he saw. “If I can ever assist you, please do let me know. Otherwise I trade mainly in liquors, paints and inks, and other small inventions. Devices that can create fire, ways of purifying water...things that glow..” Thinking of his glow-in-the-dark stars, Remi smiled to himself. “Anything that I can offer you for you help, you need only name it.” This PQ is a WRAP. Thanks friends!! remi Every now and then the things I lean on lose their meaning And I find myself careening in places where I should not let me go