#unionizedshopkeep

other crimmas prompts :: open

tis still the season!!!

@unionized-shopkeep sent: ❆ — [Wylan] and [Chilchuck] get trapped indoors during a snow storm - for Wylan?

It takes more than a little bit of effort to shut the door. The cold is fighting to get in with him, and Wylan has a vehement distaste for the fellow. Alas, the meager stock of wood on hand was out there, and, to get the fire going one would need it in here.

Any further tarrying on the task and chances were they wouldn't be able to get it at all. Sacrifices had to be made.

"Frrrghghgh! I knew I sherdn't have taken dis derm jerb!" The rogue grumbles around grit teeth, shedding snow from his layers of coats like scales from a dying drake. The wood gets even less ceremonious treatment. Haphazardly dumped into the meager pile of what remained for ... however long they may be trapped inside.

"We are not drawing straws for some crap like that again. I don't care. Take a little cut off my share. But that storm is fucked up cold." He finds a spot at the fire, grabbing a ladle to scoop out some of the hot soup to pour into a mug, letting the warmth eke out to his curled fingers once the gloves were pulled off.

He was a guard above all else. A Knight of Hylia and, in turn, the blade that any of her descendent could use if needed.

The Princess of Time did not have a lot of uses for him, or so she claimed. The evil and darkness of Ganondorf and the lingering remnants of the curse of Demise were all gone now. So she said. Now was a time for peace, and not a time for drawn blades or bloodied swords.

If only.

The man in front of him was dead, slain by the sword clutched tightly in Link's hand. Blood was dripping from its blade and he knew he would have to clean it off before it stained and rusted, but his focus was on the body in front of him. He was crouched down as he furiously dug through his pockets, and it was at that moment that Chilchuck had stumbled over the grizzly scene.

Blue eyes flicked over to him, and wordlessly Link pulled out what he had been looking for. A dagger and a vial of dark glass with a liquid inside of it. The weapon was dropped to the ground, and with one hand he popped the cork of the container to take a whiff of what was inside. Immediately he gagged before pouring it out onto the cobblestones where it hissed and sizzled against the stone.

"I prevented a tragedy." The man was an assassin, and clearly a sloppy one. Link's own thought was that his target had to've been the Princess but who was to say that was true? There were plenty of other people in the regrowing town that could have been targets.

@unionized-shopkeep sent: "... You're absolutely sure we can get into this place without swimming -? As a reminder, I don't do magic spells." Chilchuck is a little more than shin-deep soaked in the water, his pack held above his chest. He'd hesitated too late, perhaps. This was a dead part of the forest, boggy and humid. Termite ridden trees line the shore, broken and chewed down into dark, splintered stumps. He was happy for the fact that rubbing mint leaves on his skin had stopped the buzzing clouds of mosquitoes from being interested in him. Still, crushing some more between his teeth didn't seem to be harmful; it was helping him stay a bit more sharp with how bitter the herb was.

Threatened the half-foot's knees may be, the floodwaters only tickled past the ankles of their companion. The ogre of a tall-man was, begrudgingly, far less perturbed. Not by the surrounds nor the prospect of their journey. The pests were having a banquet however, one Dogi would be sure to lament at a later time.

Same for the other adventurers that were joining them- a trio that had enlisted the half-foot out of expected need for a lock-smith. As for Dogi? Well. He overheard and more or less invited himself. Already interested in investigating this particular ruin, it seemed like a win-win situation.

"Well hold on. We might have to swim a little bit." His jovial voice lilts in attempted alleviation of what must be a prior... misunderstanding. "Hate to break it to ya, buddy. Any ruin under a lake is gonna have some water. But if there's any walls blocking the path? You got me around."

A grin follows with a flexed fist that is perhaps more reassuring to the brawler than it was the former thief.

A few things were clear as Link found himself surveying the damage that had been done to the potion-sellers shop. One - someone clearly had it out for the poor woman, judging from the mess of broken bottles that had been throw about the place. He wouldn't be surprised if she would find herself out of stock for awhile, maybe even permanently if the damage was too great to recover from.

Two - immediately declaring that it wasn't you, especially when you were found to be the sole person at the scene of the crime, was... to put it lightly: suspicious.

"Uh-huh." His opinion of the shopkeep had already been low after seeing him trying to bother the Princess Zelda. People who valued rupees over people never sat right with him, and perhaps he was just being biased, but the Half-Foot left him with a strange certainty that he was just that type. It didn't help that the Princess was still in the fragile stages of rebuilding Hyrule, which made her all the most susceptible to being taken advantage of.

Still. He had agreed to help her out as the only role he was good at: guard duty. Which meant declaring someone guilty off his view alone wasn't possible.

crimmas prompts :: open

tis the season!!!

@unionized-shopkeep sent: "We are not hanging mistletoe." (For Dogi)

The declaration falls on Dogi like a coconut from a palm tree. He shrinks down like a scolded pet, turning to give the half-foot a hushing gesture. Yes, this is ironic isn't it.

"Awh! Don't give me that look, c'mooon. Ain't it just part of the decorations you usually stick around? Why the hell not? You never know what'll happen! Besides it's not like I'm gonna camp the spot out or nothin'!" No, the giant of a man totally didn't have his hopes up or something like that.

To be fair to both of them- on the one hand it looked pretty nice against the stained wood of the tavern's architecture. Same with all the other green decorations. A few steps further and the watering hole may just look like an old granny's living room at holidays.

Insult. "You look like you got away from the barber and he's been chasing you ever since."

Warm brown eyes rest on those more brilliant than his.

" Stop."

More brilliant according to whom? Seems like a matter of perspective, given how instantly arresting the warmth of that gaze is—compounded by the gentle threading of fingers; to quell the onslaught in one easy, fell swoop. Bravo, Mr. Tims. A counterattack well waged, and rewarded with the rising flush on tender cheeks, dumbstruck for a moment.

...of course, she won't go down without some resistance. Given a moment to regain her bearings, she forsakes her hands in favor of a different delivery method: leaning forward and onto the balls of her feet to place a peck on the bridge of his nose. boop!

Drop me a character name and I’ll reveal my muse’s heart...

💔 Non-existent || 💗 Very low || 💗💗 A little || 💗💗💗 Hopeful || 💗💗💗💗 High || 💗💗💗💗💗 Maximum

Aha! There he is. I was worried you weren't going to make it, your majesty.

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗💗 (purely aesthetic appreciation of looks)

Going off of what we mutually agree is how we actually imagine Chil/picture him while writing + interacting? yeah buddy. while the breadth of what she finds visually attractive is pretty extensive, it's probably no secret at this point that Honey has a particular weak spot for the mature sorts—from the little peeks of grey which fleck through thick sideburns, the creases at the inside corners of his eyes echoing long nights, hard work, and worthy stories, to every blessed little hair which trace his arms and legs down to their endpoints; Mr. Tims is, quite frankly, a very appealing man by her standards. A little rough around the edges, with callouses and other little souveniers from ventures in dungeoneering and business alike, he looks very real—earnest, familiar, tangible... While she can (and does) appreciate the prettiness of things which are smooth, flawless, and symmetrical, Honey finds a lot more

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💗💗💗 (how close a friend they consider them)

"Hopeful," as specified in the ratings above, is actually a good descriptor for once—they're still getting to know each other, as things stand, but I'd say the early impressions have been more than favorable, and even if nothing more involved were to come out of their acquaintance: Honey very much enjoys the moments they've stolen from one another, so far, and looks forward to more in the future. She's always in the market for a good drinking buddy, (though hopefully someone will collar both of them a little in that respect), endlessly appreciates a good (potential) business partner... and, perhaps more unique to him than many of her other friendships: she very much enjoyed meeting and entertaining Puckpatti, and would more than likely feel the same about seeing the long-suffering father play off his other daughters. *As the flamboyant, flighty, dramatic and bubbly sort that she is, I think Honey very naturally settles into dynamics with people who are a bit more straight-laced, dry-wit, and practical. Call it grumpy/sunshine or, as I think of it, a classic straight man/funny man compulsion.

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗💗💗💗+ (...you know ( ͡°ᴥ ͡°) )

When we say DILF in this household we MEAN IT!! The mans seriously needs to relax, blow off some steam, and wholeheartedly indulge himself in ways he clearly doesn't allow himself to often enough—and, perhaps, hasn't for quite some time; to shirk off the mantle of responsibility, propriety, and nagging thoughts of what he should do or how his actions and choices might be perceived to—if only for a short while—listen only to what he wants and gives him pleasure... and she'd be more than happy to help deliver a little bit of that, given the chance ( ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ )

ROMANTIC INTENT: ........💗💗💗½ /+💗 (hoping for a romantic relationship)