On the Cliffside of 5, well away from the College, a large glass beaker hangs over a storefront in dire need of a carpenter and painter, promising alchemical creations for sale within. The beaker reflects rainbows even on cloudy days, and it absorbs sunlight to continue projecting a dimmer rainbow effect all night long. The door sticks a little because the frame has settled over the years. The bones of the building seem solid, but it could use a whole host of cosmetic updates.
Inside, tall shelves separate the main shop area from a consultation area in the back left of the building, while a stained counter dominates the right side of the store. Chalk, charcoal, various crystals, potions, jars of glue, and packets of smoke pellets occupy the shelves, each with hand-written price tags. More volatile compounds such as various acids, alchemist's fire, and various fuels are kept behind the counter.
A thick layer of dust and the occasional cobweb cover the very top of the shelves, and years of dirt still lurk in some of the corners where a broom can't quite reach. The Crystal Beaker has been in business for eighty years, and the brand new owner Tilly Redmoon hasn't quite had the time to get everything squared away. The lab space in back still feels solid, though the remnants of several failed experiments still cover the walls and ceiling.
The prices seem extremely reasonable, and the products serve their functions well. Some of the stock may not have moved in the past ten years, except for occasional cleaning. It smells of sulfur covered with a sprinkling of flowery potpourri. Depending who you talk to, the staff gives of vibes of apathy, nostalgia for past better days, or desperation to close any sale just to claim a victory.
Part of T.W.Wombat's #City23 project. See the Fellport Index for all entries.
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