Fourteenth Bomb || Action

[muertederojo]

*Hey Mayfield! Been a while since Kimbley has been out of the house, excluding his mechanic job and all. But he can be seen in the library. The Crimson Alchemist needed more table space, so why not the library? He sits in his crisp white suit, a matching white hate on his head, not quite his awesome fedora he used to have, but close enough. But one

Comments

[nekomimi_sweets]

[Hey look, Kimbley! Your not!daughter is at the library too, looking up books about guitars... Y'know, normal things, not crazy alchemy symbols for killing people with. She passes by several times, glancing at him each time as if making sure he really was her not!dad and hopefully not drawing too much attention to herself. If he were to notice her, she'd either look like she was casing the joint for a mass shooting or just a bit of a shy, slightly anxious girl.

After awhile, she sits down at the table next to him and starts to "read", though her eyes are focused on him.]

[muertederojo]

*He glances to the side. He had caught glimpses of her here or there when he was inside the house, but as of late he spent most of his time in the bedroom, doing who knows what.

Kimbley turns in his seat and offers her a small smile, and a hand to shake*

I don't believe we've exactly met. I'm your "father", Zolf J. Kimbley.

[nekomimi_sweets]

[Oh huh... He seems like a nice enough guy, if just a little strange. She looks a bit surprised that he spoke to her so quickly, but shakes his hand and smiles in return]

A-ah, so you are the guy in the pictures! I wasn't quite sure... [Lie. She was nervous.] It's nice to meet you, I'm Azusa Nanako.

[muertederojo]

*He nods his head to her and pulls his hand back. She may notice a circle mark craved into his hand there, another one on the opposite hand. Kimbley doesn't pay any mind to it as he writes down a couple of notes*

So, what brings you to the library today?

[sanctusdei]

[This librarian, well-studied magician and former student of a fake alchemist, he can't help but look intrigued at what you're working on.]

Now this is a refreshing sight.

[muertederojo]

*Kimbley glances up at the man and slowly smiles, nodding his head*

Ah yes. It keeps me busy when I'm not at work.

[sanctusdei]

It's good to see that there's a fair amount of magic practitioners in this town. Do you have books with you here?

[muertederojo]

No, not at all. *He taps the side of his head* This is all from memory.

[repeatsalvation]

[Hey Kimbley, here comes another of the librarians to bother your ass about your neat-o alchemical circles. He had bothers to hide the fact that he's watching you work on them, either.]

I had been unaware alchemical texts were available in town.

[muertederojo]

*Kimbley glances up at him for a brief moment before continuing his writing*

They are not. I'm writing these notes from memory, to teach a student of mine, as well as for anyone else who is interested in them.

[repeatsalvation]

A respectable use of time, then. These I have not seen in quite some time: would you mind reminding me what they're for?

[muertederojo]

Creating items, shifting matter, creating fire... things of that sort in alchemy. *He shrugs his shoulders as he glances back down at the circles* I'm doing the basics for now.

[relaxiamadoctor]

[Fran pauses on her own way through the library, and glances curiously at the papers]

[muertederojo]

*Kimbley feels someone glancing over his papers, but he doesn't acknowledge Fran physically.*

Is there something you need?

[relaxiamadoctor]

[Only blinks in reaction to his words. If he does turn around he'll get a nice view of all the stitches covering her, as well as her shiny headbolts]

Ah, I'm sorry~ Are these scientific or medical notes of some sort? They look like some more archaic methods~ Alchemy or magic or some such~

[muertederojo]

*He takes note of them as he lifts his head and his eyebrows only raise a small fraction or two. Kimbley smiles though, recognizing that voice. It was Fran, the doctor. One of the first handful of people he met on the phone*

Alchemy to be precise.

[sparkystryke]

[Timmy is not looking where he's going as he's walking instead looking through his journal. He bumps into Kimbley's table and drops his journal. His hand are heavily bandaged and appear to be missing the thumbs]

Oh sorry.

[he starts fumbling under the table for it.]