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No title.
(2013-08-02 - 2013-08-05)
No description.
Blivon The one known as Blivon has a number of runes tattooed on his body, and exotic looking attire, which could lead one to believe he lives something of a nonconventional lifestyle; while this is true, the particulars are left unspoken until others actually show an interest in his manner, his way. He stands at an inch under seven feet, and manages to get through Rosemarie's doorway rather easily compared to even larger folks who might be Titanian, who hail from the Alexander Academy, mayhap.

Nevertheless, still within the range of normal, albeit barely, he also just barely squeezes into the classification of those who adhere to cultural norms of the World of Ruin, being not as oddball as some individuals who may have come through the she-elf's shop at some junctures prior. He doesn't have his flail with him, but his shield is present, along with his pet, whom he allows to enter the shop with him, unless the proprietor objects; a polecat. Given what the creature is, the owner might encourage Blivon to make his pet wait outside, but until pressure is applied, he has no reason to believe that his skunk is unwelcome- maybe he's not quite as kosher as most, after all!
Rosemarie Rosemarie is, at present, straightening things a bit. Dameon and Annalee are increasingly busy on assignment these days, leaving much of the day-to-day activity in Rosemarie's hands. Not that she particularly minds, for she'd rather do it herself than pick up additional overhead (be it financial or otherwise) in picking up additional help. Instead, Rose has put herself to work tidying up.

At present, she's liberally applying a feather-duster to a low shelf that needed her attention. This means that Rosemarie is presently bent over, and while her dress is modest her figure is not. She rocks back and forth, slightly, humming a tune quietly to herself, it would seem. She may have picked up a portable music player of some sort from the recently growing Murasame Zaibatsu.
Blivon Unobtrusive in spirit, and patient by self-imposed code of conduct, Blivon decides that since Rosemarie is preoccupied with dusting the shelves, it must be important enough to warrant her attention, so that he can wait until she's good and ready to tend to his needs. They may say that the customer is always right, but Blivon is more of the opinion that the munny is always right, and if the customer has no finances, then they are -not- going to have legitimate claim to much; it is also true that one definition of customer is 'a person with whom one must deal', and since Blivon is in /her/ shop, but has yet to render any legal tender, he definitely qualifies as somebody she's gotta manage, whether or not he's brought any currency with him, on this day.

Perusing her store quietly, he chooses not to interrupt her as she does whatever she does, while his skunk follows behind curiously, sniffing at this and that, turning her head in whichever direction suits her fancy as she catches a scent; Rosemarie's store has enough to go around. Immediately, he goes off to one side of the facility, studying a furnishing adorned with bottles that have an assortment of herbs and plants contained therein- apparently, he has an affinity for things of a verdant nature.

Deliberately, the druid refrains from whistling, or clearing his throat to garner her attention, which almost everyone else in the World of Ruin would do when awaiting service from a vendor.
Rosemarie osemarie continues working for a moment, until she picks up a scent. She rises up, tilting her head to notice first the skunk, then its owner. She swiftly removes a earpiece and slips it into her clevage for storage, then smiles pleasantly at the newcomer. "Hello! Welcome to Rosemarie's Magical Assistance and Consulting. I'm the proprietor. May I help you with something?" Rosemarie says, curtsying as she does.

She glances to the skunk again. "I presume this must be a friend of yours?"
Blivon When Rosemarie gets up from performing her tidying, to address Blivon, he pivots on his heels and faces the she-elf, waiting to hear her out fully, before considering her proposition- can she help him? That's a good question, that he asks himself, and then he looks at her with a tranquil grin, retorting, "I can't predict the future, but I can only hope so." If she happens to suddenly experience adult-sudden-death syndrome, for example, informing her that she could've been of service would've been a lie, since she'd've passed away before she could do anything beneficial for him, let alone end up being a crutch, since he'd have to figure out how to notify the local medical center; he could always go outside and hope someone was about.... but he had no idea how to use a phone, assuming he knew what a phone was!

When she curtsies, he bows a little, showing homage to the woman in turn, before remarking as he throws a glance to his skunk, to whom he cants his head a little, "She follows me fairly often, so I'd gamble that she's my friend, and I am hers." The shaman then queries, "To be honest, miss, I'd hope that we can both help each other. I would not want to exploit you." He doesn't presume her name is Rosemarie, because even if she owns the place, it might've been named after a dead relative towards whom the current proprietor is fond, and in that vein, abstained from changing the title of the establishment. "What is it that you desire in this life, if you'll be so kind as to pardon my inquiry?"

He'd guess that she accepted munny in exchange for her services, or wares, but the druid doesn't like to assume things, as already mentioned, thus, he asks her what she craves.
Rosemarie "Of course, that's the nature of a transaction," Rosemarie says, pleasantly enough for the circumstances. She draws an ornate fan and snaps it open, holding it in front of her face as if to provide some degree of mystery. Perhaps it's to hide her expression. The truth is not clear. It might even be habit.

"Oh, yes, formalities. I'm Madame Rosemarie, as you may have guessed." Before she can ask the druid his name, he makes another inquiry. "That's a frequent question I get from various missionaries. I wouldn't suppose that's the purpose of your visit, is it?"
Blivon When Rosemarie whips out her fan, Blivon blinks for a moment, and begins to wonder if she's feeling a little overheated from all of her dusting- that's the practical mind at work, though the elf's real motives are unknown to the druid, and he's not about to play guessing games; if she starts to look faint, he'll try to intercede on her behalf, somehow, however, for now, she seems to have things under control.

When she gives her name, the guru shakes his head, quietly, but pleasantly, "I didn't guess anything, actually, because I didn't know anything of its origins, believe it or not." He gives her a cordial look of amusement, signifying that he isn't trying to play any mind games, and that he's just being honest. He keeps an eye on his skunk so that she stays out of trouble, or doesn't become suddenly alarmed, so as to rouse a spraying, which even he himself would dislike, even in spite of his ability to tolerate rancid smells the wild world has to offer, "I've come here to see what you have, and to see if I have something you have, in the event that you have something for which I long."

Blivon peers at some of the shelves on either side of the room, and then looks back at Rosemarie, "Before I take up your time, I want to know what your heart desires. If I have it on my person, then it may be worth your while to consult with me, otherwise I'd rather let you focus on those who can be of service to you." Which was probably nobody, since the lofty priest was the only one in her outlet.
Rosemarie "Oh!" Rosemarie says. "My apologies. I deal with some very talkative agents of various organizations now and again. Thankfully most have not decided to try and be forceful, here in mostly neutral territory. I'm rambling, pardon me." Rosemarie smiles.

"To answer your question, there is little I truly desire these days, I suppose such fires left me with age. I will admit that there are many things which I find curious though. Why don't you have a seat and tell me a bit more about yourself, provided you don't mind?"% Rosemarie snaps her fingers, a chair rattling out of a closet and sliding across the floor for her guest. Rose herself moves to be seated behind the counter, then pauses.

"Or would you prefer somewhere a bit more private? I have a comfortable sitting room."
Blivon When she begins to discuss who she normally deals with, he's glad that she's able to confess that most aren't pushy, but since the word 'all' was excluded, he feels a pang of sympathy, since Blivon gets the sense that in her time, she's probably had to cross swords with a few unruly folk; such is life, but that doesn't mean it's a good thing, all the same. When she mentions that she desires very little, but finds much intriguing, he puts a finger to his lower lip, propping his chin with his thumb, in a thoughtful mannerism, before extrapolating, ".....Maybe you seek knowledge?"

If she bears the cross of curiosity, that means there are mysteries still unsolved that she is discontent to leave unexamined, thus, information could be one of the few things she still lusts for- this is an attribute that could also be ascribed to the druid, mayhap. When the chair appears, Blivon gazes at it, then back at Rosemarie, who asks about his preferences, "Anything I volunteer stemming from the subject matter of myself is virtually never a secret, and so privacy is not something I require; I aim to always speak truth as I see it, thus, there's scant a thing within my being that warrants subterfuge."

He twists his hand so that its palm up, open, 'giving' something to her, figuratively speaking, "The question is, what does Miss Rosemarie prefer? You may opt to designate our place of discourse, if you have preference that might be assuaged by location."
Rosemarie "Putting one's riches in one's mind and investing in knowledge certainly yields some of the best interest," Rosemarie says with a wry smile. She listens as the druid explains himself a bit more, and then turns the question of preference back upon her. She still holds the fan, concealing her expression partly.

"Mm. Here's fine, in that case." He gestures, summoning the chair to come around and park itself conveniently for her guest.

"So what it is you'd like help with?"
Blivon Her expression is somewhat concealed, as is her face, and Blivon rubs the back of his head, deciding to throw in a little bit of charisma; as he stated, in any event, his word was impeccable, so the flattery that was about to materialize was nothing but sheer, untainted truth, "Miss Rosemarie..... I do not see why a woman with your caliber of attractiveness should constantly veil her face with that fan, and hinder what would otherwise be a much more pleasant experience for those with whom she does business."

He smirks a little, then nods, and seats himself in the chair, comfortably, at first having to adjust to the fact that it felt as nice as it did; the nature-boy was far more accustomed to tree stumps, fallen logs, rocks, and even patches of beaten-down dirt. Even in his days in the monastery, decadence was frowned upon, so he, being a lower-ranked clergyman for the majority of his years, had to settle for hard oaken stools. "Hmmm.... Well, to be blunt, I would like to help you by turning your business into a sort of franchise. I'd researched you before my arrival, and apparently, you do counseling, usually with a pinch of magic added into the mixture." He slaps his knee lightly, "I gotta be honest...."

Blivon grins, "It sounds like it could use some supplementary services."
Rosemarie Rosemarie snaps her fan closed abruptly. "You flatter me, Mister--" Rosemarie chuckles to herself. "I realize I didn't ask you about your name, when I was introducing myself. What should I call you? It only seems polite to address you by name."

Rosemarie puts the fan away, adjusting her position in her seat, slightly. Rose chooses her chairs very carefully for comfort. It is sometimes a difficult undertaking. She continues to listen once she's settled, letting her guest explain himself a bit more before she responds.

"A franchise?
Blivon Blivon shrugs a little, and says, "You may call me whatever you wish. The name I was given by my parents was Blivon Jourum, but, one name seems as good as the next." He grins, "All that matters is that you have a way to catch my attention if you see me in a crowd, or refer to me if you're signing legal documents." He leans back in the chair, enjoying the snugness of it, since he wagers that it'll be awhile before he's able to indulge in such a nice piece of furniture, again. The druid's smile brightens just a sliver when she removes the fan from before her face, giving Blivon a much better view than originally; it seems a bit disconcerting to try to read the other person when they had an object in front of their face, besides the fact that he rather enjoyed what she had to offer. Inevitably, she asks what he meant about a franchise, so he waves a hand nonchalantly, "I'd like to rent or buy a property, which is in this neighborhood. But before I invest in it, I want to find out if you feel my proposal is a favorable one."

He places his hand in his lap, "You deal in magics of all kinds, and potions, and things... magical relics." He lifts a finger, "I specialize in spiritual enlightenment, if you may excuse my referring to it as that- or, in other words, a more humanitarian version of psychology. So.... instead of treating people like lab-rats, I'd be personally interested in their welfare, and seeing them get better." He puts his index finger to his cheek, "Not to say you don't do the same, but I would accept donations only, since I'm more interested in other folks' welfare, than my own personal state, which I feel is.... pretty stable, for the time being."

He sniggers very lightly, then proceeds, "Part of the revenue I made would go to you, and part of it would go to another party with whom I am affiliated.... But you're probably wondering where the strings are, since, from the sound of things, I am already fronting all of the fees myself." The druid folds his arms over his chest, "I'd like to reap some of the benefits of the Rosemarie legacy. If I could refer to my therapeutic center as Rosemarie and Blivon's Help Agency.... or something like that, combining our names, I think that would help get my feet off of the ground a little bit."
Rosemarie Rosemarie listens politely as Bilvon goes to explain. She smiles, pleasantly enough, when he tells her his name and gives a little explanation on its use, as he sees it. It seems fair enough to her.

"I do," she says, "some more than others. But roughly that would be it." Rosemarie folds her hand on the counter in front of her as Blivon discusses his approach to life and what he wants from her. She smiles, pleasantly, once again.

"I believe some agreement like this could be reached, but you'll understand that I do require a demonstration of quality before I attach my name to something, I imagine? I do have standards to maintain, lest my name become synonymous with poor workmanship. I mean no disrespect, of course, but you are still a stranger to me, Bilvon."
Blivon Nodding to Rosemarie, Blivon turns his hands up, open and outstretched, as if surrendering, as he asks, "I would be glad to offer a demonstration, if I knew how to give one. My thoughts are rooted in the disciplines of slow-moving, gradual self-awareness and mindfulness." He Folds his hands over his stomach, in a relaxed fashion, as he retorts, "I regret to inform you, though, that I have very few 'paper' qualifications. All I can really do is try to introduce you to a few people who have had some contact with me, and allow you to interview them privately, without myself being present to influence their commentary."

The shaman then scratches the side of his head, "I can talk to animals, too, in my own way.... so I suppose if you really wanted, we could haul a$$ through the wilderness until we find a rabid bear, and have me talk it down?" he chuckles, wondering if she'll actually ask him for such a demonstration, but he doubts it- the offer, regardless, was not insincere, and if she does accept, that's precisely what he'll do. "I can't say that even if I'm successful in my venture, that I'll tow nearly the amount of business you do, given that the proprietor of this facility has radiance far exceeding that of most who I've been fortunate enough to run across, in my humble opinion.... but that is not to say that I won't do my best to exemplify the spirit of your practice, by aiding those in need, even if I can't provide the same eye-candy that your branch will ultimately render."

He winks. Then, completely spoiling the moment, his pet skunk knocks over a small stack of books onto the floor, and Blivon furrows his brows, "Yeah.... Let me get that." Promptly, he rises from the chair and meanders over to where the tomes were located, so as to begin piling them back up; whether they'll end up in the proper order or not is anyone's guess, since he didn't /seem/ to be paying attention to it before it became a focal point. Interestingly enough, though, as he begins to place one atop another, he gets the order of the first four books correct- is it mere dumb luck?
Rosemarie "Hmm, some customer experience would do, I suppose," Rosemarie says, thoughtfully, though there may be more on her mind as she does. After considering for a moment, she continues on that train of thought. "Yes, I believe that would work well enough. It'd be a start, I believe. And I do, of course, welcome some help. Perhaps some kind of trial period might be in order." Rosemarie smiles, almost toothily. She is a bit long in the tooth, in the most literal sense.

"Oh, I don't think that'll be necessary," she laughs. It's almost more of a cackle--albeit a subdued one. "I prefer to limit my travels through forests, save for necessity, dearie," Rose laughs a little, a second time.

"While I appreciate your good taste, sugarplum, I will have you know that flattery alone won't sell me on this idea, even if it's a good start." Rosemarie gives Bilvon another toothy smile.
Blivon Blivon shakes his head, and remarks, "You have my gratitude, Miss Rosemarie...." He then wags his finger, and remarks, "By the by.... the flattery has nothing to do with trying to sell you on this proposition." The druid nods his head, and follows up by explaining cheerfully, and if Rosemarie has any skill at all in reading people's expressions, she'll be able to find no trace of dishonesty in his features as his facial muscles contort, "Even if you end up turning down my offer, I might still be tempted to stop by every so often just to get a glimpse of you, Miss Rosemarie. Now that I have seen what splendor nature is capable of, I have no desire to deprive myself of its miracles...." He smiles, as he peculiarly manages to place all the books in proper order, before standing.

"Don't feel pressured, in any case. If you don't want to go along with the idea, I'll still set up shop and do my best to aid others, and whether or not directly associated with you, I shall hope that if I cannot remedy some of the folks who seek me out for repairing their lives, I shall undoubtedly refer them to you, as an alternative." He nods, as he stands, dusting his hands, "The brand of magic you use may help with neurological issues, whereas I can only assist with psychological issues, for the most part, and anatomical wounds." He bows, "Shall we call it an evening, then? I'd rather not sit here and preach at you on my credentials, but through action let you see my talents for yourself, so that you can formulate an educated opinion on my proficiency....."

His head wobbles around and as he relaxes the muscles, then regains a normal angle of uprightness, "....Which means I need to get right on the business of collecting testifiers." Blivon folds his arms over his chest. Clearly, he may have a soft side, especially for matronly dark elves, but that didn't mean he was unable to don his professional hat when it was necessary.
Rosemarie "Yes, I do believe this has been a pleasant meeting. Do feel free to stop by any time, be it for business or otherwise," Rosemarie says, perhaps a little coyly. "I wish you luck in finding your old clients. I look forward to hearing from them soon, but don't let that keep you away in the meantime. Perhaps next time we visit it'll be over tea."

Rosemarie gives Bilvon a composed, but pleasant, wave.

This scene contained 18 poses. The players who were present were: Rosemarie, Blivon