Rinnosuke
(#59356665)
The Unmoving Antiques "Seller"
Familiar
Spellbound Tome
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Energy: 0/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Tundra
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
2.61 m
Wingspan
3.41 m
Weight
247.2 kg
Genetics
Cream
Leopard
Leopard
Antique
Blend
Blend
Grapefruit
Firefly
Firefly
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Tundra
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
6
AGI
6
DEF
6
QCK
5
INT
8
VIT
8
MND
6
Biography
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(title pending because I am bad at them) ____________ Turning the scroll over in my paws, I look at the similarly bespectacled dragon before me, whose smile is sly and fanged. "You realize that I cannot accept fakes at my shop, Ms..." I adjust the glasses on my own face to read what she put on her personal card, "Futatsuiwa." "I don't know what gave you that idea, I wouldn't try to trick someone with such a scrying eye." She responds, taking a puff of her pipe despite the no smoking sign I had just recently installed. "And you're not doing yourself any favors by calling this here place a business. It's more like a museum, which people can pay exorbitant amounts to purchase exhibits. A normal museum." I paused for a moment, shocked. "I beg your p-" "There isn't even a gift shop." I desperately wanted to kick her out of my shop for not only daring to sell me an artificially aged scroll, but also disrespecting the no smoking rule, but so few customers come in these days that I find it hard to turn this one away. "I regret to inform you that if you aren't the one trying to con me, then someone has pulled the wool over your eyes instead. I can't accept this scroll, Mamizou." It appears she's blatantly disregarding the fact that I can instantly tell the purpose of any artifact I happen to hold in my hands, or otherwise have the (dis)pleasure of inspecting. Or perhaps she genuinely thinks she can get away with this, sentient creatures are sadly much harder to read than a relief from the sunbeam ruins. I put the sad pile of leaves disguised as an old scroll on the counter again, and slide it toward her, hoping she gets the message. "Real shame I think, that's a very valuable and old scripture and you just can't trust a poor old woman like me enough to add it to your collection." She continues her charade, which I must admit she does with much grace considering she's been doing nothing but lying to my face for the past five minutes. "I'm under no obligation to accept everything that comes through the door." She snorts, loosening dust on one of the shelves I've been neglecting since I picked up a lovely set of poetic sagas from a friend and have been focused on those instead, and would much rather be focused on them at the moment, "the state of this time trapped place indicates otherwise, I'm inclined to think." I would have responded, again, but her tongue is much quicker than my own, perhaps a byproduct of having tried this scam on many others before me. "And I do mean trapped in time, if...things...like these are any indication." She is, of course, referring to the enchanted ceramic statues that have fallen into my possession recently. They are figures of snappers, painted and fire glazed, and in an art style typically applied to vases at the time period that art style is typically applied to, which implies they are some sort of parody work or perhaps an avant garde statement, neither of which seem to apply all that much considering they are boar banks, or the precusor to what we today would recognize as a boar bank, meant to curate a hatchling's hoarding impulse. And my few regular visitors-no use calling them customers since they hardly even think of purchasing anything-always claim that they're in a different spot then when they were here last, even though I never move them. I believe it's meant to be a prank of some sort. The level of immaturity some adult dragons are still working with is astounding, though perhaps the youngest one can be somewhat excused, still in that awkward phase right before adulthood where her proportions are somewhat strange and her mind isn't fully developed, and all. "I know you think this place a museum, but I must remind you it is not. If you're not considering buying something, please stop dirtying the floor and filling the place with smoke." I remind her, resting my elbow on my half read book and leaning my head in my hand. "My, now I understand why people don't buy from here very often." I hear her mumble before she turns to me, "well, I suppose you not wanting my business isn't much fur off my ears, I can always go somewhere else." She walks up and takes her fake scroll off my counter, and slips it into a scroll case before slinging it across her back. "Oh, and there's going to be a moon viewing at the shrine a few days from now. I know you won't come but I figured I would mention it anyway." She says as she goes out the door. Before I can pick up my book, I see a fluttering of red with light colored runes just outside the window, with an excited voice asking "did he buy it?", to which Ms Futatsuiwa answered truthfully, a surprise coming from her. I should have expected that that little fae put her up to it, but oh well. I lean back in my lounge chair, and reopen my book, searching for the bookmark that had since slipped into the mess of pages instead of sticking out properly. The book has a blue cover and binding, and big, friendly, yellow words on the front; a simple title of "Don't Panic". |
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his parents were originally "Curious" and "Shanghai" for a reason (as a reference to something) but I really should have just exalted instead of letting other people purchase and rename dragons
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