Desmond Reakets doesn't have a custom title currently.
Location: No Information
Born: 22 November 1951
Alcohol, sleeping, alcohol, Ailms.
Cbox Name: Sylvirr
Character Directory Link: http://clockworkrpg.com/index.php?showtopic=1463&st=0&#entry7142
Character Relations Link: http://clockworkrpg.com/index.php?act=ST&f=4&t=1948&st=0#entry10454
Guild: Hand of Grace
Occupation: Hand of Grace Councilman IV
Thread Tracker URL: http://clockworkrpg.com/index.php?showtopic=1983
Joined: 14-December 11
Last Seen: May 19 2015, 08:03 AM
Local Time: May 22 2015, 11:11 PM
594 posts (0.5 per day)
( 2.10% of total forum posts )
Mar 7 2015, 06:07 AM
Desmond had actually done as Ailms had asked, and dressed properly. NICELY, even. He wore a finely tailored three piece suit of a soft, smoky grey, a vest with vertical dark stripes down the front and shiny brass buttons. Of course, this was all neatly covered by a deep grey coat that was SUPPOSED to hang down near his shins but instead came only to just above his knees, and yet still looked quite neat. His long, thick hair had been tied back and braided neatly, and he cleaned up quite nicely.
He stepped into the establishment and took a moment to take in his surroundings--he needed to find exactly where all the exits were, and the windows...doors. Walls. He liked having his back to a wall with an exit in view. Old habits, one would assume. He drew in a deep breath, taking in the scents of the area--thick with perfumes and floral scents. Clean. The scents were attempting to be soothing and disarming. He had, truthfully, never been in such a place before, but with his easy body language, one might assume he was quite used to it.
He glanced to his right to make sure Ailms was still beside him--it had taken him a bit of time to convince the pescid to actually come out with him, and he'd had to promise him that it was NOT going to devolve into something violent, as many things with Desmond tended to do. "See, it'll be fine. Look, wall to wall carpeting. That can't be a bad sign, right?" he murmured to him.
He folded his hands neatly and made his way the rest of the way in, making a beeline towards the only familiar face--that being Amalthea--to greet her, properly.
Oh god, the moment of truth--his MANNERS. Would he actually remember to employ them?
"Good evening. Are we late?"
Mar 7 2015, 03:20 AM
He stretched his arms above his head. His hands were gloved--he never worked with food with bare hands unless he was at home. That was just unsanitary after all. In any case, looking at the pastries and confectioneries placed neatly in the window, one would not at all expect Desmond of all people to be the baker. After all, those that knew him at all knew the kind of person he was--violent, mouth, backhanded, often cruel, trigger-happy, and he'd once or twice been called a mad genius. On the other hand, those that knew him REALLY well knew him to be....well, exactly that. With the addition of actually giving a damn about certain people in his life. However, he had a few things that brought him pleasure in life and while he was busy trying to make himself a home on Tot, he figured he may as well make some LEGAL revenue. And that came from this lovely little bakery! Currently, the sign on the door was flipped to 'OPEN' and the smell wafting from the building suggested that something fresh was being baked right then and there. Of course he wasn't going to stand around while things were cooking--he was busy, sitting down at a table and carefully piping the petals of a flower onto a cupcake in a strangely delicate and somewhat demure fashion. It seemed rather unlikely for a man of his size and stature to be able to have such a delicate touch, but being an archmage had given him quite the steady hand.
His legs folded, his hair pulled back, he was simply relaxed and content in the surprisingly pleasant atmosphere of the shop.
"Fucking...who the fuck wants..blue goddamn flowers on their shit?Does anybody fucking know how hard it is to make blue frosting NOT taste like straight up food coloring? Fucking hell.."
...Okay, so it was MOSTLY pleasant.
Feb 17 2015, 10:02 PM
Issues issues issues. Ever since Tink's little gang came and tried to roll him, he'd been working on repairs to the ship. He had work he NEEDED to do. He had to watch that goat-X...or was it a sheep? Regardless, he'd provided books for Ailms so he couldn't fault him, but in any case he needed to keep an eye on him, if not just for Tink but for Ailms now, too. His hair was pushed back behind his ears, held out of his face with a tie back, and he was wearing his care-worn gloves as he worked on cleaning the gears from his ship. He'd repaired the floorboards already--it had taken more time than he wanted to admit since he'd been busier than he cared to be.
In any case, he was working diligently, oil and soot smeared over his entire body--which, honestly, seemed normal enough.
Jan 3 2015, 06:14 AM
He actually hummed to himself as he worked now. Normally he baked at home and he didn't put nearly as much work into it, but a special day was coming up and that special day required a special cake for a special person. His hair was tied back with a pale blue ribbon and thrown into a loose and somewhat messy braid, just to keep it out of the way. His clothes were surprisingly clean for the moment, even as he stepped back around the glass case. It held a variety of assorted cakes, cookies and pastries at pleasantly affordable prices. There was also a small book that had custom orders in it with prices. This shop was, comically, located directly beside a small machine and appliances shop, that was also run by Desmond, though he currently had someone else manning the counter there.
He dragged a tray of cupcakes out of the large metal oven and set them down to cool, making his way back to the front of the shop to flip the sign to 'open'. He may as well get some work done while he tried to make this cake. Without the kids here to distract him and make more 'poofy cakes', he had a much better chance of getting shit done.
Ailms always said that cake was so unhealthy, and that it was fattening and not good for you.
Yeah. He said that with a fork in his hand and cake in his mouth because Desmond's cakes were downright fuckin' awesome.
"Maybe I should make another batch..."
Dec 25 2014, 01:35 AM
His ship had been out of commission for a while. He'd left it docked and parked and had left on a smaller, less conspicuous ship. It had been a while since he had come back to Tot and the city had changed, and not for the better. In any case, he was getting his ship ready for a quick run to the Asfana Empire and back, now that he knew some of the established old trade routes had re-opened. It wasn't going to be a very large job, but he required some extra hands to move the cargo quick. Probably some hands that were no worse for wear and a quick, simple hire.
He had to get her cleaned up first. "I'm sorry for neglecting you, baby." he sighed as he worked at cleaning some of the gunk out of the floorboards. It was currently empty-- he'd been letting Abigale live in her for a while so she'd been kept relatively empty, with no cargo to speak of. But she'd see work again shortly, soon enough!
He couldn't wait. Really, he couldn't. He hummed while he cleaned, working at the very smallest nooks and crannies--he have her spotless again. After all, he'd worked hard to make her and more than anything, he'd see her burned to the ground before he let her fall into a state of utter disrepair.
But for now, the deck echoed with its emptiness and silence. He was totally okay with that--he didn't often like people on his ship.