Little did she know, her man was not, in fact, just pruning muta-magical vegetation.
He'd just ridden into the meanest-lookin' town that ever dared to bite back in rattlesnake country. The folks here gave strangers looks as hard-bitten as the noon hour sun beating down on his back, and every shop, saloon, heck, even the funeral parlor shut their doors and windows as he rode past 'em on the way to the corral.
Yep, old man 'Bulletproof' Brendt was gonna have us an old-fashioned showdown. Face-to-face, man-to-man... but for all the blood, sweat and itchy saddle tacs it was worth, all he could think about was his lil' lady back at the ranch.
"Wah can't ya stay with me, Brendt?" She'd looked at him with that look. He couldn't ever figure the darndest if that look meant she was angry or upset. Either way, she was a damned fine sight for sore eyes. "Don't Ah mean anythin' to you?"
"Darlin'," he'd said, gruffly catching her chin and gazing into her deep blue eyes. They had halos in 'em, he noticed... tawny yellow rings that smoldered out of each lightnin'-blue core. "'fraid this ain't about you no more. This is about... bein' a man."
A dead man, if the townsfolk were to be believed. Old 'Bulletproof' Brendt's done faced down his own fair share of bad guys, but he ain't seen nothin' like what's about to face him down today.
"Well I'll be a darned," he said as he swung off the saddle. Old Bulletproof wasn't a short man, but even he had to look up to the bad guy today. And today, if size did matter, it sure did look like Brendt was gonna be buzzard chow.
'course, our hero was undaunted. All he did was bite down on his cheap cigar, rolled the smoke around in his mouth, then spat the stubs onto the sands of No Man's Land.
"Looks like there ain't room 'nough on this chimney for the both of us."
Then, 'fore the last word had time to break loose from the cracks between his growling voice, he reached for his belt and brought out the gardening shears.
And in that second, he was a black whirlwind of precision strikes, each severing another trailing vine, another overgrown limb. After the blink of an eye and at the end of the elaborate 50-move kata, about a good foot of thick, leafy green matter lay at his feet. "One foot down..." He took a step back to examine the rest of the ivy that made their chimney a definite fire hazard. "Two storeys to go." He scratched a hand through his thick-bladed bands of hair and took a breather before hollering out to the driveway. "Bull's Eye all the way, baby. You know it." He paused and looked back at the ivy. Apparently it'd already regrown its severed appendages and was sprouting more right before his eyes. "On second thought, skimp on the sauce and get me a six-pack, will ya?"
She'd learned, some time ago, that 50-move katas just didn't take as long for Brendt anymore. But it was time enough. When he'd chance a look back, she was standing at the foot of the ladder... -watching the 'ivy grow'. "Mm," she muttered, "Maybe we should go straight to Crossbow." The ivy shot up a wiggling sprout that curled against the chimney and away from Brendt's pruning shears. "Or an exorcist."
"Maybe we need Japanese shears." He'd long since gotten used to his lady's spontaneous bursts of blinding speed, and now he secretly enjoyed the breath of ozone that lingered in her wake whenever she came to a sudden stop. "We've got big ivy to kill."
"Huge." She muttered, sharing a quick grin with her husband. Maybe it wouldn't come to spontaneous trips to Japan just yet though. She took two quick steps back, sneakers firmly planting into the lawn at a ready stance. Two fingers lifted from an open hand like the fangs of something venemous and serious. Jagged lines of white and blue arced out leaving only a heavy electrical hum in the air after they vanished. The ivy reluctantly obliged and moved a few inches off of the fireplace. She doubted the peace would last, but that didn't stop her from striking a cocky pose and blowing across the tips of those fingers.
Brendt gave the ivy, then his wife a flat stare made crooked by the quirking of an eyebrow. "Oh, so that's how it is. Another one of those magical girls' club things with you two, ain't it?" He reached out and rubbed a thumb against her nose to make her wiggle it like that chick from that old TV show. Only Grace did it much cuter. And she was definitely far deadlier. "My hero."
"I hope so. I do subscribe to their newsletter, you know." She made a swat at his hand just to remind him that she was no sitcom wife. And moving to suburbia wasn't going to change that. Far from it, moving to Paragon City had led them down a new path. One filled with lurking Thorns in the bushes among others. Well, something had to give after the Rikti invasion. She certainly wasn't an Oregonian farm-girl anymore. "Hey," she said, changing the path of that swat to catch at the line of stubble and spikey beard that trailed under his jaw, "Who are we going to invite to the barbecue anyhow? Or are we just counting on the smell to draw people in?"
He twitched a bit at the corners of his lips with the residual aura of static that came from her touch. "What, no table for two?"
"The thought had come to mind."
"Candles, little music..." He rolled an arm across her waist and leaned the side of his hips against her cockily-angled own. "...gourmet all-beef patties." And the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about wrestling with the ivy until it became 'presentable' to the public. But Brendt was smart enough not to mention that little sub-clause. "Whad'ya say?"
(By- JetBlue and Bullet_proof. Liv, feel free to post whenever. 
)
In the centre of the living room of a gorgeous 4-bedroom flat sat a woman in designer jeans and a little black T-shirt with the Pink Ribbon cancer awareness logo emblazoned on the front. A notebook computer was nestled in her lap, along with a mobile phone, and the floor all around her was scattered with newspaper advertisements, catalogs, and writing utensils. The rest of the spacious room was devoid of anything but fresh air and sunshine.
Picking up one of the pages of newsprint with several large red circles drawn on it, she dialed the phone. Her "english" was clear but tinted with a distinct "English" accent as she greeted the proprietor of the Curio Shop listed in the advertisement. Hello. I was calling to inquire about your listing in the paper
furniture for sale?
"Candles, little music..." She heard him mutter in that conspiritory growl of his. "Whad'ya say?"
Grace smiled, ruffling the fuzz of stubble under his jaw. But she could hear something else. A soft, purring ring coming from the house. "Phone..." she replied shortly to his show of affection.
As his wife raced off to the house, Brendt was left to level a derisive snort in her wake. He'd remember to disconnect the thing in the future. For now, he was left with an open invitation to a dinner for two... and an ivy.
She made it to the phone at the third ring. It was a habit from her Oregonian farm-girl days. First ring was the warning, second was the initial part of the sprint from the garden to the house and the last was always -just- in time to get the call before the answering machine picked up. "Yes?" She answered.
The voice on the other end of the line had a definate charm. Annunciated to the Nth and, if she wasn't mistaken, vaguely British. "Oh sure," she replied. "This is Grace Hudson, proprietor. We're in the midst of a basement-clearing sale now. Were you looking for anything in particular?" Grace swung into the wooden office chair behind the front desk, watching the open front door as she listened.
"Actually," Liv said hopefully, "I am looking for everything. I've just found a new flat and it's barren. Ready made "blonde oak" is not my cup of tea, so I was hoping your basement needed clearing of something more interesting."
Blonde oak. She doubted Uncle Leo had left a piece of ready-made furniture in the place, save a few of the shelving systems in the basement. If she wanted original, this gal had called the right number. What really made Grace's thoughts swim was the idea of furnishing a whole apartment, ne flat (She had said 'flat', she assured herself.), out of a phone book. What an undertaking that would be. Of course... so was cleaning out the house she'd inherited. Only from a different perspective. "They're certainly antique. I can't promise a plethora of matching sets, but you could come and take a look if you like. We've got a wide range. Dining, bedroom..." She answered.
"Any time you like, really..." Grace replied in her usually reserved, down-home, 'the door's always open' tone. "We're a ways out of town though. The house is one Park Overlook Avenue... -That's West of Steel Canyon and North of Galaxy City. It follows the Adams River a good distance, but I wouldn't say it's any major route. Newly-paved though." She stopped herself. It was like giving directions to someone back home. Somehow, she'd carried that through the Rikti war and into Paragon City without a second thought. Maybe the woman with the English accent felt the same sometimes. "The house number is 514 and I'll be around here cleaning out that basement for at least another week." She smiled and reached for the notepad and pen on the front desk, writing out a few notes about the particulars.
"514 Park Overlook Avenue...." Liv repeated, printing it neatly on the margin of a newspaper cutout. She had a shortlist of places that sounded interesting to visit. "My goodness, that must be quite a basement. Is it all right if I drop by in an hour or so?" She glanced around at the empty room. I would be nice to have something to show for her day of shopping.
"Don't I know it..." She offered in a less than professional, but decidedly friendly manner. "Is it a small apartment? We've got some nice trunks and armoires that could work well in a smaller home." -In a few hours... She wrote that down, scrawling down a grocery list for Brendt on the next page. It looked like her trip to the Mighty Mart would have to wait.
"Four bedrooms... -?" She coughed out the question, feeling suddenly uneasy. Her own new home was in no condition to be host to a modern-day Hyacinth Bucket. Somehow she couldn't pin the label on the woman yet though. She sounded too much like someone looking for comfort. "I hope we can find something for you. I'll be here and we'll sort through it when you are too. Thanks so much for the inquiry." The blonde tapped her pen on the notepad, trying to focus both on the conversation and whether or not to buy generic-brand hot dogs or the more expensive sausage for the up-coming barbeque. That and to avert some of the prior tension at the notion of English upper class going through the modest old house with a fine-toothed comb.
I'm not the only one who finds this idea intimidating... Liv thought with a smile. At the moment she wanted to stay as far away from Harrods as possible, and this warm and casual woman sounded like a good start. "Thank you. I'll be on my way."
As she rung off she moved the computer out of her lap and began sorting through her scraps of paper.
"Alright," She said with a quick smile. "We'll be expecting you."
(By-ODeere and Jet Blue.)
He didn't know what was more hazardous to his health -- contesting with potentially man-eating ivy or trying to shop for an unknown number of guests who were coming in from Paragon City. What if the tanks wanted seconds? What would you feed some otherworldly entity without a mouth? Would the mechs, cyborgs or gizmotrons prefer regular or unleaded? Was anyone allergic to chicken?
Grace had only told him to 'expect company', so it looked like dinner for two was off. But he should've stuck around a little longer for the shopping list particulars instead of racing off with the keys and a kiss the moment he was relieved of ivy duty. Oh well, he thought. Better to err on the side of an overstuffed fridge.
And so, barely an hour and a full trunkload of frozen meats, fresh produce and refreshments later, Brendt Hudson backed the household Explorer into the driveway and got out. As he hauled out a monstrous cooler and lugged it over his shoulder like some fuzzy neanderthal returning with the week's kill, he stopped and surveyed the front yard... which had apparently been overrun with a small international army of (hopefully 'user-friendly') small tables and a wing-backed single-seater that a decidedly un-neanderthal Grace was busily dusting off. Wait-- "You're dusting." It wasn't a question or an exclamation, but a statement. Brendt had long since known that beneath the mask and warpaint, beneath even the woman he knew and loved, there lived the secret life of a compulsive duster. But normally, Grace had the tendency to just... well, wiggle her fingers and wreak electro-static annihilation on whole colonies of dust bunnies in a fell swoop. He didn't mind it at all, himself... he kind of liked that little buzz of residual static the first time he'd sit down on something that went through the 'shock treatment'. But now was different. Now Grace was dusting with like a normal little girl . And it was not something Grace did lightly... only when she was expecting very serious company indeed. And instinctively, Brendt's eyes went to scanning the nearby curb lanes. "Your parents're stopping by and they want furniture?"
The blonde-haired, electro-static princess was working (dusting cloth in hand) on some of the furniture she'd brought up from the basement. But she'd hardly finished dusting down the last piece when their white Ford Explorer pulled into the driveway. She had to wonder, seeing the cooler slung over his shoulder, what part of 'a few guests' he didn't understand. As long as they were making enough money to keep up with him, she couldn't say she really minded. Brendt seemed to be the sort with a highly accelerated metabolism. -And a suspicious mind...she thought with a grin. "You were in such a hurry to go shopping, I didn't get to tell you. We've got our first customer coming over soon."
Grace gave the furniture a hawk-eyed once over. There was a heavily-built and ornate, walnut coffe table that had looked promising. Next to that, a few stacking tables with positively ancient carved leather tops sat on the wide brown stones of the house's walkway. The final piece, the wing-backed chair, had wonderfully aged material... soft, pale-golden tapestry fabric with a modest floral pattern against wood with a warm matte stain. She hadn't been entirely sure the fabric would've kept so well, but the basement was a surprisingly good storage room. Other than dust, there was little wrong with the pieces other than respectable age. And many people in the world could be accused of the same thing.
She tucked the dust cloth into a back pocket of her faded jeans and turned to her husband and the groceries. "Need a hand-? Hey," she added, "I called Sam Richardson. You know... the woman from Steel Canyon? I thought maybe she could use some time out of town."
"Richardson," he thought as he handed a load of groceries to her. "Oh. Right, that woman you saved with a comb." He winked at the crafty mistress of static-tism. Richardson, Richardson... What else was familiar about Richardson, mate? Well, he'd have to mull that one over some other time. "S'fine by me, so's long as she eats like a horse. And you found ourselves some business, too?" He grinned, that wink turning into a decidedly brown-eyed twinkle as he set down the cooler and unearthed a can of 7-Up for the missus, and a tall one of Red Beast for himself. "I think this calls for a toast." To suckers born every minute? Nah... aside from the odd bloodthirsty ivy and coffee table-shaped extra-dimensional prison, the house that Uncle Leo had left them was stocked with quite an impressive array of (mostly) harmless paraphernalia, most of which could even be used to furnish a home . "To buyers with impeccable taste in sellers. And killer furniture."
(By- Bulletproof and Jet Blue.)
Sandals, sunglasses, handbag, car keys, notes of interest
Liv went over her mental checklist before walking out the door of her empty apartment in RiverHaven. She took the lift down 31 floors to the underground parking garage and looked about for her car. As often as not she took the train, to work and to some other places, but there were a number of locations on her list, and she might want to bring some small things back with her.
She unlocked the doors to a black convertible Jaguar XKR and slid into the drivers seat, dropping her handbag onto the grey leather passenger seat. The whole thing was obscenely comfortable, as well as ostentatious, but her father had bestowed it on her as a sort of belated graduation gift. While she would never have bought it for herself, she couldnt deny that she loved it.
Liv hit several shops on her way to 514 Park Overlook Avenue, varying in degrees of funk and pretentiousness. Hit, or rather whirled through. She was a very purposeful shopper
If what she wanted did not appear to be present, she wasted no more time loitering but forged ahead. Reflecting on the huge tank of fluorescent fish now reposing in her living room, she had decided that her living room at least must be modern, but the rest of the flat was not obliged to match. In fact, she was leaning heavily toward Victorian for her own bedroom and the guest room she intended to make up. So much so that she had made precisely two purchases:<ul type="square"> [*]One, a set of large black and white prints of some beautiful Henri Cartier-Bresson photographs, which were awaiting her orders for framing.[*]Two, a delicate and ornately carved Victorian walnut sofa that was even now on its way to the upholsterer for refreshing.[/list]She pulled up and parked on the street in front of 514 Park Overlook Avenue one hour and sixteen minutes after talking to the proprietor on the phone. It was a large, old residence
or a smallish shop and residence
with a distinct charm of its own. It was hard to believe it was only a few minutes drive from the gleaming glass towers of Steel Canyon. On the lawn and front walk sat an array of small pieces of furniture that did not seem the sort to make a permanent home there. Ms. Hudson did say she was cleaning out her basement, Liv mused as she slid out of the car. She walked toward the front door, labeled with a sign stating Curio Shop, and called a Hello.
A whistle from the side yard was the dark-haired woman's reply, though it wasn't aimed directly at her as much as it was at her car. And that might've come as a relief, since the whistler just happened to be a rather broad, fuzzy-haired and just vaguely thuggish older man lugging around a gas barbecue. He coughed a polite-enough sound at the woman waiting at the door and muttered to his blonde-haired accomplice in the wings, "All of a sudden I feel underdressed."
Grace hefted the propane tank, disturbing a few pill bugs from the spot it'd been sitting since they'd moved here. It was no small barbecue and a good-sized propane tank that she hauled and quite nearly dropped when she got a look at the car. "Whoa... -Oh, hey!" she corrected quickly with a nod to the driver. "You must be our wayward shopper. I'll be right with you."
Liv watched the proceedings with interest. Apparently she had arrived just in time to interrupt the beginning of a picnic on the lawn. She waited on the front walk as the couple moved their grill, which was decidedly not antique. "I hope I haven't come at a bad time."
Grace hurried to drop off the tank next to the grill, leaving the entire business for later. Giving her hands a quick wipe on her faded blue jeans, she offered one to the dark-haired woman. "Grace Hudson. We talked on the phone. And no trouble about the time. It's a good enough sign to get a customer."
As she shook Grace's hand, Liv smiled. "Liv Deere. I'm glad. My new home is positively barren, and your ad was interesting, so I shouldn't doubt that you'll be swamped in no time. I'm lucky to get here first." She glanced at the array of objects that had been set out, barbecue notwithstanding. "How is the basement coming along?"
Pos-i-tive-ly barren. He had to smile at that. There are few things worth hiding a smile at than a perfectly accentuated English accent. "Nice to meet ya, Liv." And he was less than accentuated, or English for that matter. He left the women to their devices as he went scouting for a non-flammable place to set down the barbecue.
Grace took a quick look over her shoulder and then back to the woman. "My husband Brendt." she clarified. It was good to know that someone who obviously had very fine taste in cars and perhaps other things was interested in their shop. The place really did have a lot of charm for its age. "Well, it's going to be a jungle for a while, but I've pulled a few things out." She motioned to the coffee table, nesting tables and chair. "There's plenty more in the house if you'd like to come in and have a look."
"Ah," Liv observed as Grace named the large and amiable gentleman with the incendiary device. She turned to look at the pieces Grace had pulled out. "I would love to. What are these?"
"Well," she said looking over the three bits of furniture, "There's the walnut table. It's probably low enough for a coffee table if you're needing one and have that type of room. It's not really old enough to be Victorian, but it's working on it." She grinned and then motioned to the chair. "Then there's the wing-back chair. Style's old, though again I'm not sure about the true age. The upholstery is good though. The basement it was stored in was nice and dry. And then the nesting tables..." Grace paused to take a closer look at the threesome of tables, still uncertain if the odd carvings in leather were magical (or safely saleable) or not. "Can't say as to the wood type or the nature of the carvings. They're on leather and if I had to guess I'd say they're something out of Mexico or Central America. Just a guess from the rural scenes and the animals." She hoped the answers would satisfy Ms. Deere, considering she really wasn't the type to scan all of those 'antiques and collectables' books.
Unless they were so exorbitantly priced that it would require a "certificate of authenticity" to resell them if she ever had the urge, Liv didn't particularly care about verifying ages and sources. If something looked just right then she was perfectly happy. She followed Grace blissfully around to inspect each piece, nodding as they were described to her. "That's lovely," she said as they looked at the table. "Very like one I saw at Slydale's, where I bought my sofa. Only this might be a better match..."
The chair looked like a good match as well. She'd have to call the upholsterer, have them make sure the colors didn't clash, maybe get it shampooed...
"Interesting," she bent to inspect the table carvings. They were very different. If the living room was going for "edgy" and "modern," they might figure in. Her eyes flickered up to Grace with a quizzical wonder. Either she had an appointment with destiny as a great decorator, or she was simply psychic in her selection of curios.
Mmh. Now that's my kind of shopping. Never a matching set, but things that should've been. she thought with a smile. Grace really admired a person that could shop for the look of a room and not be lured by price or a match set. It took some creativity... that was for sure. "Yeah, it's a really fun piece. I'm sorry I don't have more information on it, but a lot of these came with the house. If you'd like, we could go in and look around too." She went ahead to open the front door, propping it there with an old iron bootsweeper and plucking a few spent heads from flowers in a nearby pot on the way in. "Right this way."
"Yes, please," Liv agreed as she followed Grace. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson... I'm encouraged already. When I looked around this morning I was sure I would never be able to decide on a single thing for any of my rooms," she added with a sheepish smile.
(By - Jet Blue, Bulletproof, and Liv)
The Curio Shop
The interior of the house had a lot of the charm of the exterior. The walls were painted in a wash of very pale green over old white plaster. A massive wooden and curving staircase dominated the left side of the room. It was stained warm colors and even had a narrow pale green runner carpet ascending its worn steps. Beneath it were built-in cases that had some of the dignity of a library, but the warmth of a home. They did a fantastic job housing all of the books, dishware, and smaller curios that might've otherwise left the room feeling cluttered. Now though, one could clearly see the architecture which, aside from the stairs, included several tall, carved wooden pillars with a similar stain color, heavy but not overly fancy moldings and a handsome wooden floor that seemed to go on into the kitchen. The kitchen itself, on the right, was presented nicely through an open arch door. To the front and tucked beneath the stairs where the built ins ended was the sales desk. There was a comfortable seating area with a sofa and a few chairs neatly formed in the niche of the bay window visible from the front of the house. Overall... a place of warm wood and pale green and cream with high-ish ceilings and the odd feeling of being a rather warm and modest library. Curios were displayed neatly on and around the furniture in the room which was also for sale.
The true oddities in the room didn't necessarily stand out. Beneath the sales desk, however, was an odd collection of sticks that could only be described as looking like a magician's wands. A few older books with information 'occult' were available mixed with the others, the odd candle collection was set out (though most had pleasant smells or were wrapped) and a crazy grouping of everyday objects that were locked away behind very strong-looking glass in one of the built ins.
Grace stepped aside and welcomed Liv in. "I've tried to keep things pared down in here. I know so many antiques stores can be rather overwhelming. There's plenty more in the basement and I'm sure I'll rotate it all from time to time. Please look around."
Liv surveyed the beautiful old room appreciatively. Although it was the main room of a shop, it also felt like a gladly-lived-in home. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the collections of old books, but she reminded herself that she had to fit big things into her flat first. Little indulgences like that could come later.
Reluctantly she concluded her leisurely survey and looked at Grace. "Thank you. Perhaps you can direct me a bit... I've two bedrooms to furnish, one monstrously large, and one more normal, and I think I'd like to have Victorian style furnishings, in softer colors. I've an office and a big living room that will be more modern, but the things I'll need to put in there are something of a strange mix."
"Strange?" Grace raised an eyebrow at the comment. "I think we can cover some of the Victorian. Maybe not properly, but we do have things that look the era. Modern might be a bit of a stretch." She took a few steps into the room and pointed to a large Tansu dresser next to the seating area. It was a beautiful piece that was obviously old and slightly worn. The dresser was stained a dark but warm wooden color that seemed almost black in the shadows and sported an intricately cut round motif with exotic birds at its midpoint and where the handles were for the main storage. A few smaller though no less detailed drawers were below it. "My Uncle brought quite a few Asian pieces into the collection. Maybe some of them would fit with your modern theme?"
Liv nodded admiringly. "It's lovely. I think that would do very well. I'm tending more and more toward light and dark neutrals for that room... I have a few plants and fish that will add color." She mused over how it would fit... with some angular modern seating and a/v equipment and her photographs.... it could just work. "How in heaven's name anyone moves it... " Liv smiled ruefully and glanced around.
Her eyes lit upon an array of old hanging lamps dangling from a series of hooks. One of them was in the distinct, ornate Victorian style, but without the fussy pastel flower paintings that usually adorned the glass domes. This had a dome of ornately molded glass, but glazed in a soft baby blue. "Those are exquisite. I wonder if I could have one wired in my flat. Or are they plumbed, for gas?"
Grace followed the woman's gaze to the blue-shaded hanging lamp. Its metalworks were worn with age to a darker color. She figured that one could work that back to a brighter shade if they wanted to though. Given a little elbow grease and the right metal cleaner. "No, I went to the Steel Canyon home and garden supply and bought the wiring when I found them. Not a whole lot of use to folks wired for gas, I think." She smiled and ducked around a vase to plug in the beautiful light. The area was illuminated with whitish light and shades of pale blue. "Oh, don't worry about the moving. I've got a husband for that. I think he could be convinced to load it and haul it for you." Convinced. She thought on it a while. Would he fall for food or would she have to get serious?
Liv chuckled. "He must be very convenient to have around, if he can move things like that. I wouldn't dare try."
"Mmh. I'm sure I'd have a backache for a week if I tried it. It's no lightweight." She unplugged the lamp and drew the chain free of the wrought-iron hook. "I'll find a box for this."
"I would appreciate it though... I don't know of any movers around here, although I'm sure I could find some...." She smiled at Grace. "Thanks. That I think I could manage to transport."
"I won't be more than a minute. Make yourself at home." Grace offered as she vanished into the kitchen in search of a good-sized box. Fortunately they'd just moved too... so no shortage of boxes there.
Liv wandered around the room, admiring the clever displays that left the room with a homey feel. The collection of ordinary objects under heavy lock and key, however, made her wonder.
It took a moment, but Grace finally returned with the box. The Victorian lamp was tucked and wrapped neatly inside and she set it on the glass-topped sales desk as she went to see what Ms. Deere was looking at. "Something catch your eye?"
"I was just wondering... you have quite an odd collection in here. Why so secure?"
She stepped to a side of Liv and looked into the box though she hardly needed to. "These are 'objects of power'." Grace took a moment before she continued. It wasn't easy to explain and she assumed that Liv might not have known much about magic. "They're magically charged items. Very dangerous at times."
"Very useful also." she added.
"Oh." Liv knew next to nothing about the arcane. "Mad scientist" was her unofficial title, and that was her realm of expertise. "I wondered why such little things needed security."
"I could explain, but most people think the explainer crazy or boring." Grace smiled and moved away from the display. It was a very rare thing to see a Magi with such a hot car. She would've been surprised if it'd turned out any other way.
"Do you collect many magical things, then?" In the City of Heroes, it was not uncommon, but not a domestic or civilian hobby.
"As a part of the business. My Uncle also left their care to me. We stock a few things that are common use for Supers as well." She pointed towards the display in the glassed-in sales desk. A series of pairs of ruby earrings were among the things available. "You never know when someone might need them." Grace perked at the sounds of her husband fighting with the propane tank and the barbecue outside. Maybe the hour was later than she thought. She turned back to Liv. "It's really getting late. Would you like to stay for the barbecue? We're a little outside of 'convenient restaurant dining' range here."
Liv wasn't really familiar with what sorts of things heroes routinely needed, but she nodded politely. She was surprised when Grace invited her to the barbecue... pleasantly so. She liked this warm, frank woman with the "kindred spirit" feel about her. "Are you sure? That's really very kind of you..."
"Of course! We've really just moved in within the last few weeks. And I have a feeling Brendt's bought way more food than we need. I've got a friend coming that works for the Hubert Historical Magic Museum. That's about it though." Liv wanted to stay and that was good. Grace got the feeling there was a world that neither of them knew about one another yet, but it would be very interesting to find out. "I'll go inform Brendt that he can't have seconds." She winked and then walked to the open front door. "Looks like we'll be having company, hon."
(By - Jet Blue and Liv)
*-Please note that this is a closed roleplay. If you'd like to be included, private message JetBlue. Thanks.
Calling All Heroes!
-------------------
The Rikti may have been driven back, but the war isn't over! Come out and join the battle to restore your community!
What?
The section of the I-5 crossing Lane County has been devastated by the Rikti Invasion. Military and civilian transports need immediate access to this section of the highway, and VOLUNTEERS ARE NEEDED to help in the restoration.
Who?
All capable residents of Lane County 18 or older are asked to join the restoration effort. Especially WANTED are volunteers who are willing and able to FLY, HAUL extreme loads, CONTROL EARTH and volunteers with MEDICAL BACKGROUNDS or HEALING POWERS. Even if you don't have "super-powers", this is your chance to make a difference in your community.
Where?
The county I-5 corridor is blockaded as a HAZARD ZONE. To volunteer, see below.
How?
Dial Emergency Code *4376 on local phones to speak to project organizers 24/7. For security reasons, all volunteers must submit to a mandatory background check and fitness inspection.
When?
The restoration effort has already started, but new volunteers are needed everyday. Tents and meals will be provided.
NOTICE: Intelligence reports that the Rikti have left the area. There will be army personnel patrolling the site at ALL TIMES, but volunteers are ENCOURAGED to be ON GUARD and to alert authorities of any suspicious sightings!
Who's In Charge?
The League of American Veterans is working with county officials, the US/Canadian military, and dozens of community volunteer organizations in coordinating the restoration project.
Even if you can't make it...
Remember: the war isn't over. All residents are expected to be at their most vigilant, and to report all alien sightings to the emergency neighborhood watch program at *744-353.
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That was several years and the span of a continent away. Now a framed bit of paper hanging over the end table in the hall. Grace shook her blonde-haired head, snatched the keys to the SUV and stepped outside.
It was a beautiful site. A line of houses in the hills following the road and eastern bank of the Adams River before it meandered into Perez Park's Everett Lake. Their house was an older, brick construction than its neighbors... -A well-established garden and massive climbing ivy on one side.
Her husband was tangling with that vine... somewhere. "Brendt? Babe, do you want the store-brand barbecue sauce or Bull's Eye?" Oh yeah. You can't just move into a new house and not have a party. Though they hadn't met anyone to invite just yet. A party for two would be just fine, she thought with a quick smile.