By appointment only, the door says. John runs his fingers over the glass, glancing once over his shoulder to look down the street, before twisting the knob and pushing it open with clear disregard for rules or common courtesy. Zed said that in her vision she'd been standing in an antique store with jade green doors, spider webs and dust with high, glass ceilings. There had been monsters creeping around the edges of a single flickering light and the urgent calling of the most nasal voice she'd ever heard in her life.
It wasn't much to go on, but barely 20 minutes of wandering and he'd felt an inexorable pull towards this place.
Arcana Cabana. It's cute. Bit kitchy, but-- John touches everything within easy reach, fingers glancing off metal and wood, paint and plaster and oh, yes. He comes to a halt in front of an old oil lamp, just nestled haphazardly in with the rest of the accumulated junk. He's not sure what it is, exactly, but the lamp feels very, very nasty. It's not just a piece of nothing, it's the real deal.
"Alright, luv," he mutters to himself, forgetting the rest of the shop for a moment to circle the table that the lamp is perched on, "Now we're getting somewhere interesting."
For Dave Stutler!
It wasn't much to go on, but barely 20 minutes of wandering and he'd felt an inexorable pull towards this place.
Arcana Cabana. It's cute. Bit kitchy, but-- John touches everything within easy reach, fingers glancing off metal and wood, paint and plaster and oh, yes. He comes to a halt in front of an old oil lamp, just nestled haphazardly in with the rest of the accumulated junk. He's not sure what it is, exactly, but the lamp feels very, very nasty. It's not just a piece of nothing, it's the real deal.
"Alright, luv," he mutters to himself, forgetting the rest of the shop for a moment to circle the table that the lamp is perched on, "Now we're getting somewhere interesting."