Potionmaker… no potions? [Neria and Charade]
What kind of potion shop didn’t stock potions?!
Charade glowered at the shelves as she continued to move noiselessly through the room, growing more and more frustrated as she went. Shoving a loose stray lock of dark mahogany back beneath her watchcap with a little more force than necessary, she clenched her fists inside of her black leather gloves. This had to be somebody’s idea of a sick joke.
Once she’d picked up the sack of supplies she’d been about ready to go and hire on some muscle so she could get the gem, but she’d realized that she was missing one crucial element. In her line of work, if anyone even knew that she was in a place, then she’d already screwed up, so if she wound up getting wounded then she’d royally screwed up. But she was also smart enough to know that there was a fine line between self-assured and being cocky, and walking into a tomb full of booby-traps with no healing potions was definitely flirting with the wrong side of that line.
So she’d started looking around. There were the obvious places, the potion-makers at the Gallows as well as a few vendors in lowtown, but the man who’d first taught her to pick locks had also taught her an invaluable lesson.
Why buy a thing if you can steal it for free?
She grinned a little at the memory of Master Canto and his ‘pearls of wisdom’. Most of them she’d ignored and focused on the mechanics of what he was teaching her, but she had to admit that the advice made sense right now. She needed what extra coin she had to hire on some slab of beef. And so she’d headed to the clinic in darktown to figure out their supplier (they obviously had extra to spare given that it was a free clinic so they must be handed over without coin exchanging hands). It had taken her awhile because she couldn’t quite nail down the delivery schedule, but she’d finally noticed a little symbol on each of the bottles. Bob kept a stash of teas in the back for any high end customers that came in (and despite the grease pit food, he did get them given his location). They had the same little symbol on the pouch.
From there, it was child’s play to find the nice, out of the way little shop where she would apparently find some lovely little corked bottles. The perfect location.
Or so it had seemed, until she’d walked in to be overwhelmed with the scent of various herbs and spices and plants and not a single red vial to be had!
Grinding her teeth she kept searching, her black boots silent on the smooth floor as she tiptoed carefully between piles of books that seemed to be laying haphazardly all around. Cute little satchels, random planters with herbs and the Maker only knew what all over… yep… the place was absolutely quaint.
And really getting on her nerves…