User blog:MockingJester/The Gary afterthought: Glancing hands

It was an ungrateful night for Gary to toll away, to have to run all the way back home in the murky fog of the rain. Forced to scutter in the corners of darkness like a rat, he ventures desperately forth, crawling a good kilometer to the inn that made out the current spot for him and his friend, left to tend to two Baphomet and their family issues.

"Good god, I'm finally here...!" Gary's distorted voice reverberates under his arcane marriage of cloth and metal sheltering the lower section of his face. Every step given is a hard-earned one, forced to draw further from his strength by the tyranny of the rain aggravating the weigh of the organic segment of his clothing. The metallic lining of his greaves, gauntlets, shoulders, and chest plate ironically give no greater burden as they boasted their immunity against water.

Slowly, he pulls the key out of his pocket, shining a glint in his hidden face from the dim shine of the moon ruling the dark, forcing much of the water staining it off its mantle as it seeks the lock of a door frame, giving him allowance for the inside of the room.

He rubs the side of the door where an insignia lays in the depiction of a light spark. The room, via the arcane machinations, lights up by the torches. A dim blue, intense enough for him to make his way to the bed and a coat hanger. Yet, soft enough to allow his eyes to shut to the shortened dreamland, uncaring of the dripping his armored coat emits... --- "Ugh...morning? Already? Come on..." Gary's eyes are coerced to a joust with the tide of dawn filtering through the window's curtains...directly to his face. His upper section, at least.

"Seriously..." He tussles against the need to wake from his slumber in a groan, the majority of the night spent crawling back to their improvised home base. In the debate of moving the sheets, however, his body no longer retains the yearning for wool and warmth.

The shoved sheets quietly muffle his groan as his feet slide to the side "Fine, whatever...". Gary's body slides off as well to give company to the floor. His first thought? Looking to the left.

His sight is filled with the regular rise and fall of a body under the sheets of the second bed. "Well, at least he's here...though I doubt he took a shower after THAT night..." He sighs with relief, left to rush to the bathroom for one's typical bodily needs.

The next minutes see Gary wandering out of the inn afflicted with his trusty hammer on his back radiating gently to a dwindling blue, a color perceived as the tide to his own strength reflected as mana.

His eyes line on a list his fingers keep cluttered in between. Wrinkled and past its prime, the ivory piece sketched with ink depicts a series of words alluring to culinary purchases yet to come.

His free hand fondles with care the inner fold of a pocket that resonates with collisions of coins battering on each other at his fingers' whim. Gary grins under his mask separately from his eyes still glued to the piece of paper "Hehe, looks like I'm keeping a good change even with all of these--Uhh!"

The engineer's walk is suddenly and abruptly halted by the percussion of an object stroking the armored plate of his shoulder, dislodging his posture somewhat. His eyes are re-directed by the instincts of shock, the polished pole of wood constituting a broom.

"Watch where you walk..." speaks a nonchalant voice. A woman's, her eyes unable to surmount the basic effort of looking back at the confounded Gary. Her focus remains on a tome etched in front of her, sheltering the details of her expression, her face, and head. Only, the garb she bears is a clear indication of a practitioner of sorcery.

Gary didn't bother taking in the intricate details of her cloth, all too annoyed by the impromptu impact of her broom. He sidesteps her path with the momentum carrying him back to his regular march with a spiteful glare back to the woman "Tsk, you watch where you walk, you spastic..."

His words do not elude her ears, prompting the woman to shoot a glance back at the disappearing man amidst the crowd, unable to make out the last bits. An expressionless glance spouting the meager amount of attention, to begin with, one quick to hollow out as her march resumes as well.

Though it stops at the front of an inn. A sizable one lined in yellow bricks and decorations featuring multiple heights of stories. Her blasé cast softens, even if briefly. Her tome closes, left to the whim of her mind to tether back to her back alongside the broom.

The inside is reasonably more lavish than the outside, prompting the woman to raise an eyebrow "Seems they carry themselves better than expected. That makes things easier..."

Her hand manifests a stack of coins buried deep in a handheld purse, which she puts on the counter's table. The attendee's attention is prolonged on the fat ring of the purse as his eyes are attracted to the bloated appearance. A rather greedy grin etches on his mustache "So, what can I help you with?"

The woman casts her palm on the table with a demand, unconsciously capturing rivaling the man's interest to her hand, a glove devoid of fingers letting lose her pearless nails flourishing next to the bloated sack "A room. Not just a room, but a room occupied by two".

The man's pearls remain tethered to the minuscule reflections flashed by the sunray, almost mesmerized. Only raising his head by the order of her voice would decipher the reasoning of his attraction as he meets the gaze of one deeply soaked in the arcane arts. Be it the unmistaken hat that adorns her elegant hair shimmering at the back. Or perhaps, the uniform knitted around her with a bountiful promise to any man with an eye for 'generous' women. Or rather, it is the broom brushing its end just outside the hat's obstruction. Whichever is could be, or all of them at the same time, the inn attendee, the owner of such a place, find himself bewitched both by an unnatural gaze.

"Of course" He speaks, all too eager to please the woman's simple request, as she had given him two outlets for him to feast upon "But there are many rooms with many individuals. It feels as if you're searching for people in particular".

"That would be the case. Two foreigners who've never set foot in this establishment. Surely you must have recognized them" Her eyes persist on the innkeeper. The addressed rises from his wooden chair with the creaks of its binds ushered in relief of a weightless swing slow to decay to stillness.

"Right this way". He moves from the counter to the elongated hall featuring a flight of stairs at the extremity. His footsteps clomp the rug with benign dust throughout his pace. Her own are much more unnoticeable, focused on the shivered heels of her shoes, aking it as if but one strode across the bustling rooms, close or opened with people tending to either set inside or depart. People, monsters, all tethered in adventurer clothing.

"I had a few rooms close to the entrance doors, but one of the lads you speak of preferred a more...isolated place. One many will not measure worthy of walking back and forth". His voice muffles behind the door the goat sorceress takes to keep with his leisure pace, soon gaining in height as they cross the stairs "Said there was a bit too many...strange individuals. Even his companion seemed to think him a weird one".

The sorceress keeps her silence, merely content with listening to the first bits of information about the two. Their pace does slow on the second floor, sopped to a door at the precipice of stairs leading to the third floor.

"Here they are" He turns to the woman passing around him to knock on the door. His heavy steps stop midway, his neck craned back. Back to the madam knocking still on the door with no words to offer. Enthralled by her form, as he was on many others. Yet, the coin bounced needlessly in his mind, his attraction proving of a monetary priority. His ears fell deaf to the chiming resonation of an arcane cast about, bathing her cloth under a sapphire shimmer. His eyes fell blind to the change wrought with the presence of light, shaping her attire down to that of a typical. A hefty sweater in the stead of her sorceress' bindings. A diminutive hat over the enamored witch's wear. Her tome and broom brought to sparkling dust, erased from the current world, only to be recalled at will.

His form fades from sight, leaving the woman to witness the door opening to a fairly tanned man. The first sight feeding her eyes are of his own irises. A strong tide of violet sleeps within, shining an alluring ray. The question behind them raises an answer in her mind, lulled at the back of her mind as the silence is forsaken "I bid you welcome, good sir. I am Elizabeth, and I seek something you may have".

She raises a hand in his way, twinkling a faint smile on her face as much a faint twinkling on her eyes lined behind sapphire-framed glasses. Her fingers are met with the man's recipient, prone for a formal shaking "Well, well met. I am Fernando, how can I help you?"

"I would prefer to speak unbarred from outside listeners if that is of no issues...".

"Step right in, Gary isn't here anyway..." The wooden panel between the two opens wide, inviting the woman to a miniature world of dichotomies. One room basks in the clarity of the waking dawn, decorated in attire in the likeness of a staunch fighter. No mere warrior, but a refined duelist who's prized rapier hangs on the temporary wall beside the bed. Clothing and consumables bathed in the same direction. Beautifully detailed, as is the man opening the mini world to Elizabeth.

The other half, however, is one of arcane. One of shadows and caution. Unfinished parts lay on the table, waiting to be fulfilled. Metal shudders in the cold darkness. Tools of mechanical purpose fill the same table as well. The bed hides its' colors as well as its walls near to it, showing nothing but purpose with no offering of aesthetics.

The woman takes a step in this room of conflicting personalities, lured to the shadow. Her fingers coil around a lone tube choked in ink. It's leftover falls on the digits even as she lifts the part to meet a closer look under Fernando's scrutiny "Gary's stuff. Guy's hammer had a spiffy treatment before his departure".

"So that's his name..." The woman's visage shifts from the inert piece to the man's side "This man do happen to be in the profession of mechanics, correct?"

His arms fold into one another, carried by his feet to the bed at his temporal name. The soft cushion bends downward at his effective service, as it did countless times "Oh yea. That rapier on the wall, he's maintaining it as well..."

"A silver demon rapier..."

"You noticed". Fernando rises from his bed and walks to it unfolded at arms. One of his fingers brushes the bottom of the hilt. It repeats with an additional finger. And another. Somewhere in the interim, the rapier is holstered off its sheath at the whim of its user's hand in inspection "Despite it being reasonably rare in places like this, good ol' Gary managed the integration of silver on the steel, even going so far as to check up on the  metal covering more and more of the steel. I guess it felt my reluctance at striking people down in a permanent fashion under the new light I wake every day".

"Demon silver is known to be unwilling to indulge in the killing. It seems to fit you, judging by how fondly you carry it". Her expression turns warm at the sight of the man softly running a finger across its blade and the tip, though her eyes recede to a focused gaze "Back to my reason for being here. This man, Gary. I wish to meet him".

"Huh?" Fernando stops admiring his blade, the tip now pointed down as he turns his sight to her "Why so? Have you business with him?"

"If what you say about his profession is true, then yes. I have things I need an engineer dabbling in arcane to look over". One of her hands goes on her hip, the other scratching the tip of her chin.

"Ohh, Gary doesn't usually present his work to strangers..." Fernando speaks the last word with a different tone. A subtle one, unable to elude Elizabeth's ears, laced in a hint of remorse over his friend's reluctance at offering his unusual services.

Her voice meets him in a tone of quiet confidence to balance his slight remorse "Good thing I'm not intended to stay a stranger for long if his services meet my requirements. An engineer dabbling in arcane, even a novice is a rare catch".

Fernando chuckles softly, no longer carrying his elegant rapier "Quite so. Well, if you want to see him, as I said, he's not here. Today's his day to do groceries".

"I want to give purchase. Any description of his appearance?"

"Well..." Fernando points at her fist still coiled around the inert tube, a slight mischevious tone in his voice "...I suggest looking for a guy with a hammer. You won't miss him".

Elizabeth's mind flashes back to the man she halted. The same man who spat back at her seemingly derogatory word of advice following a forceful stop. The only one wearing a mask among the crowd "I suppose he wears some breathing apparatus as well?"

"We're in a city merging with humans like us and monsters. He doesn't trust them one bit and wears it as much as he carries his hammer. 'Just for precaution' he says".

Elizabeth's disinterested expression briefly turns sour at the prospect of his reasoning. Fernando nods in acknowledgment, frowning a bit "I know...he's, he's...he's just like that. A few bad experiences can mire a man".

"I suppose so..." She bows to the man with two hands joined at the bottom of her waist "I shall go meet this man. Perhaps we could meet at another time, one that isn't the awakening".

"Well, of course. I never refuse the inquiries of a fair lady such as yourself" A tanned smirk forms at the edge of his face, a technique shaped over countless meeting with women of every flavor.

"You flatter me, sir. Consider yourself available for a possible return of mine. Worry not..." Her hand once more springs to sight, bulging with a yet another promise of wealth in the shape of a purse. She gently tosses it at Fernando, the latter effortlessly catching it with "I shall make it worth our while..."

She turns and paces through the door, closing it softly. The man inside is left alone, prompted at going for the window with his smirk persistent. His hands slumber over the window frame, unraveling the bustling activities of the citizens walking and jogging. Selling and purchasing. His smirk grows to a grin "Oh Gary, hope you're ready for some visit..."