BlackAndBlueEyes
02-03-09, 03:41 PM
Closed
I held the keys firmly in one hand and all the paperwork in the other. All around me that morning in Radasanth, people were milling around Janus Street, which was on the northern end of the market district. Merchants who were looking to sell their wares, craftsman who were offering services to passersby, and the occasional bum who was trying desperately to panhandle enough for a slice of bread and a glass of ale. But as far as I was concerned, those multitudes may as well not have existed.
For in front of me sat my nearly-completed dream. The three-story building was in good shape, considering that nobody had occupied its storefront or upstairs apartments in a good six or seven years. I had spent weeks cleaning the place up, and let me tell you... My war against the armies of spiders and rebel dust bunnies deserves a spot alongside Corone's own war against the demons however many years ago.
I had gotten in contact with some of the other bookstores and libraries that were within city limits, and even some from Serenti and Underwood. Most of them were more than happy to send me their overflow of literature. Over the course of the last six days or so, I've been spending every waking moment going over my initial stock, separating them by genre then shelving them alphabetically. A few of the books that caught my eye, specifically the books that pertained to chemistry and elemental magic, I hid upstairs in my own apartment for my own nefarious means.
When all was said and done, my store looked a little bit like so. Along the far wall was the general fiction center, where you would find your everyday legends and folk tales. On the adjacent wall was the science fiction area. I liked science fiction. Its authors had a good imagination and command of creativity. I'll take machines and energy weapons (whatever those are) over stories of an elf, a human king, a dwarf, and a crotchety old wizard saving the world from some dark king who was supposed to have died thousands of years ago in some epic battle any day of the week. In the middle of the floor sat six chin-high shelves, all parallel to one another and evenly spaced apart. Here's where I stashed everything else--childrens' books, history texts, self-help/how-to-guides (this is where I found most of my private stash of studies), and any other miscellaneous books. Along the opposite wall was the counter and my vintage cash register, you know, the kind that has the heavy metal keys and makes that loud ka-ching! whenever you open it? Yeah, one of those.
But anyways... Back on topic. It was relatively early, and I was standing in front of my new store, ready for Day One of being a legitimate businesswoman. I walked up to the steps and slid the key into the keyhole. With a twist of the wrist, the lock clicked and I pushed the oak door open without a problem. Taking a look inside, everything was in its proper place. By the door sat a couple round tables, with more books arranged in a circular fashion on them.
It was a nice feeling, knowing that I could finally wash the bloodstains of the assassination profession off my hands and replace them with irritating little papercuts.
I stood leaning against the counter for a few minutes, then did a slow lap around the store, running the tips of my fingers against the worn bindings of my inventory. I felt this wave of uncharacteristic giddiness pass through me. I'm even sure I cracked a small smile--impossible! Blasphemy! Poppycock!
It was about time to open up the store for the first time. I quickly went behind the counter, grabbing the wooden "Open for Business!" sign that was left behind by the previous owners. There were still a few details to take care of. The biggest one was--or should've been--above the entryway. Although, I did receive notice from the signmaker that he'd be running a little late with the sign for the Janus Street Bookstore.
Also, I was going to need a pair of helping hands to help mind the place and run errands for me. But that would come in due time.
I held the keys firmly in one hand and all the paperwork in the other. All around me that morning in Radasanth, people were milling around Janus Street, which was on the northern end of the market district. Merchants who were looking to sell their wares, craftsman who were offering services to passersby, and the occasional bum who was trying desperately to panhandle enough for a slice of bread and a glass of ale. But as far as I was concerned, those multitudes may as well not have existed.
For in front of me sat my nearly-completed dream. The three-story building was in good shape, considering that nobody had occupied its storefront or upstairs apartments in a good six or seven years. I had spent weeks cleaning the place up, and let me tell you... My war against the armies of spiders and rebel dust bunnies deserves a spot alongside Corone's own war against the demons however many years ago.
I had gotten in contact with some of the other bookstores and libraries that were within city limits, and even some from Serenti and Underwood. Most of them were more than happy to send me their overflow of literature. Over the course of the last six days or so, I've been spending every waking moment going over my initial stock, separating them by genre then shelving them alphabetically. A few of the books that caught my eye, specifically the books that pertained to chemistry and elemental magic, I hid upstairs in my own apartment for my own nefarious means.
When all was said and done, my store looked a little bit like so. Along the far wall was the general fiction center, where you would find your everyday legends and folk tales. On the adjacent wall was the science fiction area. I liked science fiction. Its authors had a good imagination and command of creativity. I'll take machines and energy weapons (whatever those are) over stories of an elf, a human king, a dwarf, and a crotchety old wizard saving the world from some dark king who was supposed to have died thousands of years ago in some epic battle any day of the week. In the middle of the floor sat six chin-high shelves, all parallel to one another and evenly spaced apart. Here's where I stashed everything else--childrens' books, history texts, self-help/how-to-guides (this is where I found most of my private stash of studies), and any other miscellaneous books. Along the opposite wall was the counter and my vintage cash register, you know, the kind that has the heavy metal keys and makes that loud ka-ching! whenever you open it? Yeah, one of those.
But anyways... Back on topic. It was relatively early, and I was standing in front of my new store, ready for Day One of being a legitimate businesswoman. I walked up to the steps and slid the key into the keyhole. With a twist of the wrist, the lock clicked and I pushed the oak door open without a problem. Taking a look inside, everything was in its proper place. By the door sat a couple round tables, with more books arranged in a circular fashion on them.
It was a nice feeling, knowing that I could finally wash the bloodstains of the assassination profession off my hands and replace them with irritating little papercuts.
I stood leaning against the counter for a few minutes, then did a slow lap around the store, running the tips of my fingers against the worn bindings of my inventory. I felt this wave of uncharacteristic giddiness pass through me. I'm even sure I cracked a small smile--impossible! Blasphemy! Poppycock!
It was about time to open up the store for the first time. I quickly went behind the counter, grabbing the wooden "Open for Business!" sign that was left behind by the previous owners. There were still a few details to take care of. The biggest one was--or should've been--above the entryway. Although, I did receive notice from the signmaker that he'd be running a little late with the sign for the Janus Street Bookstore.
Also, I was going to need a pair of helping hands to help mind the place and run errands for me. But that would come in due time.