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: Mar 6 2015, 12:18 AM
Local Time: Mar 6 2015, 03:55 AM
582 posts (0.5 per day)
( 2.08% of total forum posts )
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.
Dec 23 2014, 07:45 AM
He hated doctors. There was only one doctor that he trusted, and that particular doctor could kill him with a well-placed headbutt. But the fact was that he -trusted- him, perhaps because the trust had been formed over something besides him being a 'doctor'.
In any case, a higher up told him that he really, really needed to get himself looked at. Perhaps because his moral compass was severely skewed. Maybe it was the fact that he'd spent over 18 years trying to kill himself. Maybe it was the fact that he had, at one point, pulled out his own ribs. He was now missing two ribs on his left side. No, they did not get replaced. The scar it left took up quite a bit of his chest.
He was quiet and averse as he stepped into the building. It wasn't easy to cowl the easily 6'7'' towering beast of a man, but any sort of professional setting did it fairly well. He felt he didn't belong, and he most certainly didn't. The light ringing of the bell signaled his arrival, and he stood at the door with his arms folded over his chest in some attempt to hold himself, feeling already nervous about the entire situation.
He wished he didn't have to go alone. Bringing someone with him would have helped, if only a little bit. But as it stood, his eyes darted wildly around the relatively comfortable-looking establishment. Nervous. Uncertain. Ready to bolt at a moments notice. And--against his wishes--he'd left his gun at home. So he felt extra vulnerable.
But here he was, here he stood, and now he was going to be picked and prodded at. He was not looking forward to it.
Dec 18 2014, 03:42 PM
My last plot sort of tapered off due to inactivity among the people who joined it, but I'm willing to try again.
Desmond needs to get some supplies both in and out of Tot. Normally he'd do it on his own but this job requires an extra set of hands. Who's in?