Quillstroke's Home and Store.

(( Hope I don't do anything wrong ))

Near the market of Ponyville stands a tall household. It is apparently painted red just recently. What makes the house stand out, that it has stairs built next to the outer wall post-construction that lead straight to the upper floor balcony. The reason for this is that the lower floor has been turned into an art store.

Outside the store stands a sign: "Age of Ink - Anything for various kind of artists or art appreciators."

As you would walk in to the lower floor, you can find shelves after shelves of art in almost any form possible. Paintings, drawings, sculptures, music, movies, books and supplies to make them. Quills, pens, parchments, brushes, tools... Anything an artist or art appreciator could dream about. There are stairs leading to the upper level, but the lower end is covered by a gate which is locked.

The upper floor is more like a basic household however, with a bedroom, a dining room with a kitchen, living room and bathroom. The rooms are decorated with gothic and macabre styled furniture and decorations. The frightful ones might feel a bit uncomfortable in this place, but it is not beyond getting used to. Despite the appearance, it is tidy and in a good condition.

From the balcony in the morning, trots Quillstroke. He walks to ground level and gets to the lower floor door. He lifted a sign on the lower floor door that said "open" on the other side and "closed" on the other. He lifted it so the "open" text would face the village and another sign he attatched to the window that said "hiring".

He then walked to the store level and looked around.

"I suppose Quillstroke is open for business again." he said and smiled.

(( Any good? Too big of a concept? Should I change anything? ))

(There are no TV's in Equestria. XD Though you can have black and white films.)

The meager Markets of Ponyville yielded nothing more then stating the developmental need for this town. As he happened across a tall household. Red. A fond acquaintance with Martingale. He indulgent in the memories before sweeping inside the tall shop. He first noticed the fleet of stairs that reached to the upper level. A colt had set his life's work and home in the same place. Such courage. What if there was a fire?

He glided across the lower floor. He seem to retire his worthless painting for sell, which was the destiny of paintings should they be Lackadaisical. He brushed over the drawings, sculptures and what some considered to be 'art'. He paid no heed to the books and supplies to make them. A dream land of his own creating it seemed. A lover, not a fighter. What a tragic means.

He smiled with twist of his lip as he snatched the 'Hiring' sign from the window. He set it before the counter in front of the colt with a sweep of his cape.

(This is fluffy detail of what he looks like.)

White covers the edges of his ears like a halo in the sea of light tan brown that his coat expresses. His mane is styled in a straight cut path of black wildfire that runs from his forehead to the bottom of his neck with bits of white patches on the lower end. His snout is a white white cap around his mouth till it faded to light brown, which then goes on towards the middle and fades to a pale brown.

His legs are jet black up till a little over the knees where they become part of the pale brown of his body. Standing at 4’5 is height, weighing at a 112 pounds. His taupe cap has pockets to set his wings which keeps the cape in a fixed position. His light beautifully designed ultramarine blue and grey shaded suit with a purple trim to hold it together. Overlapping stash sheets this ornate light armor has depicted scenes of his family's legacy. The saddle is a black velvet, smooth like those ropes you feel when waiting in line to higher end club. The back has a slot to allow his hair to stick out and covers the entire of his back of his neck.

(( Might be a good idea x) ))

Quillstroke was browsing his notebook with his horn, behind the desk with a concentrated look. Something important by the looks of it. Still when he caught a glimpse of the customer walking inside the store, he gave a polite nod and set the notebook aside.

"Welcome to the Age of Ink, sir. Anything in particular you're looking for?" Quillstroke asked.

He slid the 'hiring' sign he had take from the front forward a bit on the counter. "I seek employment here." He explained as he set his wings out of the cape pockets, for the place was stuffy from the heat of the day an he was producing a watery product do to the heat gathering in the cloth. "Also do you have any items of rarity? One that collectors would turn their hungry gaze to if they so happen to stumble across your shop?"

(Hey, this part of the forum is actually for just listing the details of your home and all for reference, not actual full blown RP. This topic can be moved for you to the RP area.)

(That would be grand)

(( Seems like a good idea ))

Quillstroke raised an eyebrow, looking at the stallion.

"That didn't take long." he said rather pleased, "I have some rare storage in its own section in the back, but they are hefty in price and don't have an employee discount like the more common pieces in the store. Now do you have any kind of résumé on you?" he asked.

"I think it would be better if I did my shopping as a costumer before our interviewing? It is poor to mix business and pleasure they say." His eyes turned to the where he would speculate the 'rare' wares might be held as he flipped the sign upside down, as if to put it on hold.

His soon to be employer, should it transfer to favorable standing had rebellious fit of black hair with contrasted his dirty snow white from the dust that floated about the place. A quill which nature was likely reflection of it's owner stood against the white. The only question was did it follow the rule of thirds?

"You might be right, sir." Quillstroke said and nodded, "If you want something particular, just ask. Otherwise, I will see to this order..." he continued and eyed the notes again.

It might have been just his imagination, but Quillstroke couldn't help but to feel some similarity between this stallion and the rich snobs in Trottingham which had made made him not only wealthy, but annoyed from time to time. Still, he wasn't the one to judge a book by its cover and said nothing about the matter.

He glided to the 'rare' wares department as he took a meticulous effort as he observed each and every item. His eyes scanning the shelve like vulture might a man on the verge of dehydration. It was accident that good fortunate smiled upon him today, for these wares were of quality that is difficult to find in such securities as this.

He sense no crimonious in the colts tone, which let his plotting smile press against his lips. "Should I be allowed this line of discussion." He lifted his head as he spoke in the direction of the counter. "Is any items of topic here dangerous? Should I have worry say if I were to lift up this pencil kit, or shake a brush too scornfully?"

"I would be quite uncivilized if I kept weapons of mass destruction in my store," Quillstroke replied still reading, "but as for shoplifting... I dare anypony to try, because nothing pleasant will follow to the culprit... I assure you."

Quillstroke's eyebrow twitched a bit as he started writing some notes, sometimes lifting his gaze to the direction of the rare department.

"And I did make an order for lockable glass-door cabinets for a reason. Even in such a place at Ponyville, a realist must never take trustworthiness for granted. I wouldn't want my special wares to just... disappear suddenly, due to a shady and calculative customer stepping in."

He kept turning his eyes from the notes, to the rare section which he could see, but not entirely well, and also to the door, ready to try and lock it down if something suspicious was to happen.

"It seem we have engaged in a esoteric dealings with the knowledge of the lack of hazard tools." He curled a smile as he half glided along the shelves facing the opposite way of your counter. Which made it difficult to see him when he ducked and dance around the lanes. Many times he did long gestures and flicks on his cape as he danced near the shelves, sometimes reaching to touch something, then suddenly drawing back as though it burned him.

"I guess the user would need a be of a gifted imagination to cause havoc to another." He said as his voice slowly creep to silence by the end of his sentence. "What is the function of some of these enchanted wares. A example of let's say this." He aimed a hoof at object on the top shelve in view behind him.

(( sorry for taking long. have been busy with moving and school ))

Quillstroke frowned a bit and trotted to the shelves to see properly. He looked at the object for a while.

"That can be used to take care of errors. If you mess up while painting or make a mistake while writing... With that stick you can clean quite much anything." he said.

"What a ingenuous tool.." He let his hoof slide across his lips as he observed the device with held attention before sweeping pass the colt with dancing of his cape, with creak of his oriental armor for show more then defense. "Would you in this.. 'cozy' display of rare items have pen that would mimic my signature?" He turned with his amber eyes fixed on you with something of smile on his face as a few of the black wildfire hair poking out of the neck guard stood straight at attention.

"I am plagued with paperwork that merely requests my signature and I rub my writing hoof raw, giving a cramp in my wing and chapped lips when I am forced to this limit." His cape pocket made new jingle for moment as he did sort of movement when facing with an anticlimactic expression.

(( sorry again for taking long. Had some login issues -.- ))

Quillstroke looked at the stallion without a shifting expression.

"You do realize that items like that could be used for forgery?" he said. "If I had one, I would get rid of it, or at least not sell it to anyone. I do not take the risk of supporting criminal activity. Rather bad for business don't you think?"

He took a gaze at his drawers. "I am aware of how dreadful of signing paper after paper so elegantly, but some things I rather keep as they are, no matter how hard they might be.

((I have been having login issues myself. Glad to seeit isn't just me I guess. XD))

Martingale's lips curled to a smile at the colt's tact as his eyebrows moved just slightly up before returning to thier level place upon his brow. "Such a hero minded thought. Protecting ponies from a possible outcome is one that no reward expect the the quiet of peace."

His eyes had watched the wandering of his to the drawer nearby with fixated concentration, though Martingale yielding no turn to it as he removed a checkbook an withdrew his credentials. "Sense you have enlightened me that no such thing such a thing exists, as well as a reason for it not too. Let's return to the matter of employment." He with sweep forward set his papers for the colt to take at his leisure. "I come from a family of recognition in Canterlot till we were robbed of statue. I am well versed in business, policy and social interactions. I studied at higher education in hopes to be as my father was before him. A noble in not only name, but worth as well. yet without the funding I no longer can pursuit such a esteemed profession and have taken to job of.. different esteem."

(( apologies once more for slowness. Been through some stuff... breakup... exams... and all that ))

Quillstroke nodded a few times as he listened to the story, still quite blank in expression and still not being able to put his hoof to what disturbed him about this stallion. He'd be wary of this one until he could figure out what it was.

"Tell me more about the "robbed of statue" part, would you?" the colt asked.

((It's forum Rp. XD The fun of it is you can post one month later if you don't have the time. No worries. XD I have been searching for a job. So have been busy myself.))

Martingale paused for a moment as she collected himself a bit at the question. The colt had perceptive nature to him after all. "My late grandmare." He pressed his front hooves together with a face that mimicked sadness. "She passed away and in her will she enacted to much money to the our great Canterlot's parks, From there the taxes drank our funds and the family took their petty shares, running off in every which way instead of pooling the funds to keep our statue." He held back his hate for his family, for he was destined to ascend to the head of the family, but he was robbed of his right of leadership. He had taken account to track and 'discuss' his disagreements with his brothers, aunts, uncles and relatives. he had been very forward in his want for them to return what they stolen from him. Most refused and required more 'drive' to change their minds, which required money.