Post by Iacomus Lerwick on Feb 6, 2016 18:27:21 GMT
Open to all!
That was an... interesting trip.
Iacomus had decided to travel. It seemed odd for someone of his age, but in his twenties he was busy trying to figure out what to do with his father's company (which was sell it,) and attempting to find his passion (which was, you know, dissecting things.) His almost mandatory trip around the other reaches of the continents was long overdue. Granted, it would have been better if he had not been attacked by a hippo. Or had not been pushed off the ship. (And who coulda guessed - he hated sea travel as it was.) A starfish had taken fancy to the man and clung to his jacket, and he, the oh so-merciful man that he was, killed the thing and put it in jar, pretty much like what he did to everything else. That being said, he needed a new outfit, as his favorite had been ruined.
He sighed as his lopsided, somewhat haunting grin returned to his thin face at last. Before him stood the door to his ship, the 'closed' sign hanging askew within the window in front of white lace curtains. Home at last.
With energy, he opened the door, flipping the sign inside to the 'open' side as he did, and took a long breath. Must, formaldehyde, the smell of home. And he was back. At this moment he was wearing a white shirt, with long, lacy sleeves, and dress shoes shimmering underneath slim black pants. Not his usual, as he usual stunk of salt and fish excrement. But he decided that outfits could wait. He plopped the starfish jar down on the counter, and his luggage behind it. With that, he sat in his chair, resting his feet next to where the starfish sat. He had been gone for so long - he had utterly no idea what was going on in the city, his home. And that his why he was opening up his shop again so soon, regardless if his only goods would be the preserved ones, he wanted to talk to people, slowly pry out of them what was going on.
My, it was good to be home.
That was an... interesting trip.
Iacomus had decided to travel. It seemed odd for someone of his age, but in his twenties he was busy trying to figure out what to do with his father's company (which was sell it,) and attempting to find his passion (which was, you know, dissecting things.) His almost mandatory trip around the other reaches of the continents was long overdue. Granted, it would have been better if he had not been attacked by a hippo. Or had not been pushed off the ship. (And who coulda guessed - he hated sea travel as it was.) A starfish had taken fancy to the man and clung to his jacket, and he, the oh so-merciful man that he was, killed the thing and put it in jar, pretty much like what he did to everything else. That being said, he needed a new outfit, as his favorite had been ruined.
He sighed as his lopsided, somewhat haunting grin returned to his thin face at last. Before him stood the door to his ship, the 'closed' sign hanging askew within the window in front of white lace curtains. Home at last.
With energy, he opened the door, flipping the sign inside to the 'open' side as he did, and took a long breath. Must, formaldehyde, the smell of home. And he was back. At this moment he was wearing a white shirt, with long, lacy sleeves, and dress shoes shimmering underneath slim black pants. Not his usual, as he usual stunk of salt and fish excrement. But he decided that outfits could wait. He plopped the starfish jar down on the counter, and his luggage behind it. With that, he sat in his chair, resting his feet next to where the starfish sat. He had been gone for so long - he had utterly no idea what was going on in the city, his home. And that his why he was opening up his shop again so soon, regardless if his only goods would be the preserved ones, he wanted to talk to people, slowly pry out of them what was going on.
My, it was good to be home.