Memory Thread: A Belt For Any Occasion (Boston and Wikus)

[Boston Brilliant]

22nd of Hamis, 2714

The rain had never really bothered Boston much. The rhythmic beating of the drops upon his roof was almost soothing, and walking through the rain and splashing through puddles gave him a rather pleasant feeling of nostalgia. As a child he would often return home with a cold after spending hours out in the rainy season weather, which had always resulted in Belle giving him a strict, but loving, scolding. By the end of it, all she could do was sigh, try and further hide the smile so wore beneath her mask, and send him to bed in drier clothing. She'd then follow up with soup or something light. It was a pleasant thing to remember and the rain always brought him back to those days.

No, it wasn't the rain now that bothered him, it was the coldness it brought with it. He'd often enjoy the cool nights after long days in the backroom and fall asleep with no blanket, only to wake up with a stuffed up nose. It was always so bothersome to deal with. He really needed to invent something to get around this problem. He'd save that for later, he had other things to work on today. It had been a slow week which left him time to work on schematics. He had been working on a few different things, a suit that would enable someone to walk beneath the water, a glove that could cause explosions or fire to shoot out when it was used to punch something, and a hook that could be shot to grapple something, he was thinking of calling it the hooking grappler or grapple hooked. He usually thought of names after he made the invention, the right name would always come to him eventually.

With a small "Hup!" Boston hopped out of bed and onto the cold floor of his room. He began his morning like any other. Throwing on his usual outfit, though he kept his sleeves down today. Too cold for him to do otherwise. After he was dressed he made his way to kitchen where he whipped up an easy breakfast. Bread with jam and a piece of fruit. It was simple, cheap, but filling. Chances were he'd forget to have lunch and potentially dinner, so it was good to have something filling. Going back to his bed he pulled out a large chest and undid the latches. Inside the long, thin chest there were several legal papers and permits as well as five smaller chests which contained his money. He grabbed one of the small chests and slid the larger chest back to its old spot.

After that he had thought about combing his hair or at least trying to cleaning himself up a little, but decided he wasted enough time on this morning nonsense and instead made his way downstairs to the backroom, carrying the small chest of coins with him. Nearly tripping over a box of parts and almost dropping the chest, he swore under his breath and hopped the rest of the way over to the door leading to the rest of the shop, passing a few tables with stacks of paper and parts upon them. There was only one semi clear table, only having a small metal box and some loose gears upon it. It was a music box in the works, he was working on a new fine, one he couldn't get out of his head, while at the same time not being able to remember all the notes. He had gotten close a few times, but it was always slightly off. This current one just needed a few more gears and he'd be able to tell if he actually managed to get it, though he'd tackle that later. Hopefully...

Opening the door Boston found the store to be, as he had expected, empty. That was good considering they were closed, though at the same time it felt a bit lonely. Belle had been gone a few months now, but he still wasn't over it, it was still so odd to actually own this place. He hoped he was meeting her expectations and was making her proud, wherever she was. He lifted himself onto the counter, set the chest down in an open drawer and slid over the counter to the other side of it. With a half-skip, a hop to his step, Boston made his way to the main door of the store.Opening the door sounded the six bells attached to it and four bells in the backroom, though from here the backroom bells were much quieter and muffled. He quickly turned over the closed sign to open, trying not to get bombard by the rain, not that it was pouring, but rather he rather not be wet while working on schematics.

He looked out from the window on the door into the empty street. It looked like it was going to be a slow day for him, which was more than okay for him, more time for himself. He went back into the backroom, sliding over the counter again and shutting the open drawer to hide the treasure away from anyone who may try to nab it. In the backroom he settled down at the table that mainly covered in papers and got to work, humming a rather upbeat tune to himself. He decided to start working on something new. He had been putting all his effort into his three new inventions and it was starting to get tiresome, he needed something new and exciting to work on, he just wasn't sure what. It was always the worst part trying to figure out what to do. Either there were too many ideas or there weren't any ideas. It was hard to be in that middle ground. The three ideas he had been working on weren't even for a specific purpose, he was just making them to make them. It would be nice to actually invent something someone wanted. He just wasn't sure what people wanted...If only he had someone to come by and give him some form of idea, he would make anything at this point.

[Wikus]

TAB Vienda. Capital of the Kingdom.

TAB A shithole full of posh galdori brats, yes, and where you’re constantly watched by the Seventen, but at the same time, a place of unlimited opportunity. Like almost every year, Wikus had taken the time to snatch some long-winded special contract from Jug, his employer in Old Rose Harbor and one of Hawke’s men. The contract often involved a runaway that had snatched considerable debt to be chased down, and Wikus often agreed to take on the job even if he wasn’t very successful in completing them. Getting a hold of someone in particular to deliver punishment was almost impossible in a city as populated as Vienda. If finding a needle in a haystack was impossible, try finding a pebble in a damned mountain.Regardless, it was an opportunity to get to Vienda, get away from Manfred, and, of course, buy cosmetics.

TAB In the one day he had stayed, Wikus had managed to ask about for Lucretio (the wick cunt that had gotten away with five concords) to find no real leads, had dinner in the best street stores (he found one that served some vanilla rolls Old Rose Harbour could only dream of having), and buy just about every cosmetic for his personal care. It was slightly more expensive, given that human and wick store owners had a bigger galdori clientele than in Old Rose, but they often made up with the quality of their work. Plus, the amount of stores solely dedicated to cosmetics, tonics and herbal remedies was far superior to that of Old Rose. Except the whores and the posh (and sometimes Wikus), nobody bought cosmetics in Old Rose.

TAB In a single afternoon, Wikus had bought the following; a hand moisturizing cream, two face creams (one for regular use and the other with an extra potent formula designed for night use), deep-pore cleanser lotion, a herb-mint facial masque, three nail polishers that came with a discount, a spearmint face scrub, a body gel cleanser, a honey-almond body scrub, and a exfoliating gel scrub for the face. To accompany the skin care, Wikus had also purchased a ginger-spice shampoo that help rid the hair of dried perspiration, salts, oils, air pollutants and dirt which caused the hair to lose volume and thus look older. To go with it, a conditioner that left the hair silky and easily malleable. For his beard trimming, Wikus had picked a moisturizer to apply before he applied shaving cream in order to loosen up the hairs, and, of course, he had picked a nice shaving cream that wasn’t too harsh on the flesh in case it were to dry it up. To top it off, an aftershave balm that does not dry out the flesh.

TAB Today, Wikus still had many more purchases to make. He still needed to find hair mousse, preferably two; one for common use with a mate look and one with a shine to it for special occassions. He also needed to take a good amount of his day in order to find an appropriate beard oil. Wikus was extremely picky with it. Firstly, it had to have, at least, argan oil, castor oil, and sweet almond oil, the latter to be, preferably, dominant, as Wikus was prone to getting acne whenever his beard grew in size. Secondly, it had to be watermelon scented, which was problematic since perfumers rarely focused on one single smell and instead played around with them. This would be acceptable, except most of them mixed the smell of watermelons with the smell of canteloupes, which was a sin because canteloupes were fucking disgusting. The other common combination was mixing the watermelon with pear, apple, and kiwi in equal parts, thus creating a fruity fragrance that was too exaggerated and clogged Wikus’ nose. And thirdly, it had to be available for tomorrow - no time for custom orders.

TAB After getting over with his morning routine, consisting of a thousand pull ups, a thousand push ups and ten thousand crunches, the giant who couldn’t count cleaned his armpits, crotch and face with some water, donned his undersized clothing that accentuated his musculature, and left his room. The Inn in which he stayed was good enough, as it provided working showers, but he found the food down at the hall was lacking. Instead, breakfast, coming in the form of six eggs, a small pork chop and three vanilla rolls along with some foul tasting water, was provided by the inn at the edge of the street. The rain was about to pick up again, and the early hour of the day did not leave many options for shopping. Considering the gigantic cost of the cosmetics Wikus had so eagerly purchased, he decided to, instead, research a bit into Lucretio and the Tallassi woman that was, supposedly, Lucretio’s mother. Family, females, and friends, in that order, were the debtor’s favorite hiding places.

TAB The streets weren’t as deserted as they would’ve been in Old Rose, for example; Vienda was too big a city to allow calm. Traders were already moving stock in carts, working women were hanging clothes on wires and covering them with impermeable materials, or alternatively yelling their lungs out at little brats that had somehow awoken so early in the morn. Silence was extinct here. After wandering through the streets and attempting to stop a few pedestians, most of which either moved along or turned out to be wicks (which meant they were unworthy of being talked to), Wikus decided to start storming the open stores to both get away from the rain and get his doubts resolved.

TAB The first shop he burst into looked as if a tornado had swept through its insides; papers, parts, dust and whatnot, all crammed down within a shop barely illuminated by some old light-bulbs that kept flickering. An acidic, metallic smell was in the air as well as that of lubricating oils, and all sorts of mechanical parts could be seen if one’s eye was keen enough to investigate.

TAB Even if the doorbell had already announced his presence, Wikus did not hesitate to bellow out a loud ‘Hey’, which brought forth the owner of this shithole. Wikus should probably not say that.
TAB “This shop is a real shithole, you know that right?” he said anyway. “What are you selling here? Plague rats?”

[Boston Brilliant]

22nd of Hamis, 2714

It was true. In the past week or so, due to the low customer rate, Boston had let the shop enter a state of disarray. He had started to organize bin upon bin of parts, and left schematics left and right in tall stacks, some of which had fallen over. He had sorted them to some degree, trying to keep similar parts together and stacked schematics depending on their function. There was a pile for leisure activities like toys and music boxes, there was a pile dedicated to constructive things like the explosives and hooking grappler, and then finally there was a pile sorted for random inventions, things Boston just came up with and wanted to try and make.To most people it would appear to be a disorganized wreck, like one of the several bombs Boston made had gone off during a tornado.

A bomb tornado?

He'd have to write that one down and see if he could do something with that idea. But that was for another time, he couldn't let himself get distracted now! Before he could even look at the ringing bells which rung with a certain pleasurable sound there was the voice of...well, a less polite man who's tone and vernacular drowned out the pleasing sound of the bells. Looking over his shoulder and through the open door of the backroom, where most of the mess originated from, Boston saw the figure standing in the doorway and fought back an urge to laugh, an awkward smile covering his mouth. This beast of man looked very out of place in this little shop. He looked to be a man that would find better prospect within one of the local taverns or maybe Kettle Black(A place Boston had only heard of and never entered). There was something so out of place about the man that Boston found comical, he was rude, but maybe he saw something on the shop floor, either on an island or a shelf, that he wanted to buy. Though, it almost seemed unlikely that that was the case. With that opening statement it didn't even seem like the man knew what was out on the store floor.

Most of the goods that were sold in the shop were out for all see, displayed on either four small islands or upon a shelf that lined one of the walls. Each of the islands had Boston's more sought after inventions, crossbows, phonographs, spectographs, explosives, and, just for today, he had typewriter out. On the shelves there were the less sought after and smaller items. Music boxes, toys, lamps, tools for different forms of trade like astronomy or sailing, and clocks and watches! Of course, most of them were either covered by some papers or blocked by boxes of parts, but they were there. There were a few notes by some of the items explaining a few different things! There was note stating that explosives and crossbows both needed permits to buy and that explosives on display were defused. By the shelves there was another note explaining that if someone didn't like the tune of a music box there were more in the back with different custom songs. Then at the counter there was a large sign that read: Do you want something we don't have? We can build it for you! We take requests! The last line "We take requests!" was underlined and written in a fancy style, something that would usually be used for a elegant cake shop or at a dress boutique.

Judging solely by the attire and the build of the man, Boston was guessing he'd want a crossbow or maybe even an explosive device. While uncomfortable with the idea of it, he would sell the man a crossbow, but the explosives were out of the question. This man was too...rugged and, frankly, too crude for Boston to trust him with such a piece of technology. On the other hand, maybe Boston was jumping too conclusions a bit too quickly? First impressions may not be this man's strong point (Boston was guessing his muscles were the man's strong point), but maybe he wouldn't be so bad once he realized what kind of shop this was. In the man's defense, the store was a nightmare and a total wreck. He could hardly be blamed for such a collection of hurtful words that stung Boston.

"A customer was a customer after-all..." Boston whispered to himself in a low tone, hoping the man didn't pick up on it. With a small sigh Boston lifted the goggles from his eyes to his forehead, causing the hair there to be clamped down which only made the hair not clamped down stick up more. His hazel green eyes searched the man a bit further, trying to find any sign of redemption or any promise of him being, at least, semi-affable. He came to the conclusion that he would actually have to talk to the man to figure that out. He stepped out of the backroom and placed his hands on the counter, leaning down slightly. A smile grew on his face, a confident and proud smile, the smile he wore whenever he was about to explain the wonders of his amazing shop. With a small clearing of his throat Boston began to speak in a loud, illustrious tone. "Ah! My dear impending patron! We don't have any plagues rats here!" Or at least...he didn't think any of the rats he had in that cage around back were plagued. He would have to check that later, if his wheel invention was going to work all the rats had to be perfect health. "No no! You are standing in Belle's Brilliance, a store containing only wonders!" He clapped his hands once and then spread them apart, holding them outstretched in the air, almost like he was presenting something. "Yes! Wonders which will win over heart! From tools to help the educated, to toys that will entertain the loneliest of children! But, before you berate these benevolent brilliances saying these won't do for you, saying these aren't for you, we have plenty more! We have pneumatic crossbows for sporting, phonographs for enjoying, and spectographs which are never disappointing!" He bowed his head slightly. "Ahhhh! Yes! And if these don't do it for you, then fear not for there is even more for you to find here! If you want that special something, that something that simply can't be found then let us know and we will create it for you! Provided we have the skill set we can produce the production you wish to possess!" Letting out a breath, Boston finally looked up at the man, that confident grin still plastered upon his face. "So! How can I help you? What can Boston Brilliant get for you today?" He looked at the man with an expecting look in his eyes, a certain spark behind those two green eyes.

[Wikus]

TAB In Wikus’ eyes, Boston Brilliant looked like a complete cunt. He and his little shop reminded him of the garages Wikus had cleaned when he was a servant, filthy and disorganized, inhabited and tended to by men and women better left out of view, with missing teeth and disgraceful accents. Boston lacked the accent and had a few teeth too many, but his shop sure resembled that ancient mess that reminded Wikus of the smell of oil. Stepping further into the shop, the man of large caliber and little finesse’s first step ended up with him kicking a stack of papers and spreading them everywhere. Oops. Someone would clean that up for him. That’d most likely be Benton.

TAB Besides from seeing a cunt locked in its little pigsty, Wikus’ blue gems scouted around in search of some sort of proof of the man’s skill in his trade. The first thing he stumbled upon was a sign with actual writing on it.
TAB “You know the Galdori are likely to trash your shop if they suspect you know how to read or write, right?” Wikus stated, smug, with a tone that suggested he’d be the first to rat him out. “Not that its my problem or anything, though.”

TAB Scouting the shelves, Wikus was a bit skeptical of what he found. Most of those items he had never seen, and some were as alien as the body parts he’d find beneath a woman’s panties. Even so, through the glass, Wikus could see attention to detail, a multitude of small parts assembled together to form something seemingly complete, spectacular. Boston, for all his cuntish appearance, could very well be the sort of man that built the machines in the noisy factories, giant mechanisms and contraptions that could turn cotton into thread. It made him slightly envious.
TAB “I may need something built exclusively for me,” Wikus commented, holding his hands behind his back as he pounced around the shop like a lord. It was curious how a mere human could train himself and hone his appearance to seem so much superior. “Although I don’t know if you’ve got the skill.”

TAB The concept had been in Wikus’ mind for the longest time. At first it was nothing but a layer of protection against predatory kicks aimed at his groins. Loan-sharking wasn’t the safest profession for one’s gonads. Then, as years passed, and as Wikus’ sexual frustration increased, and his habits of masturbation grew almost violent, the idea of protect his virginity began to seem as it was his choice rather than his romantic ineptitude or awkwardness. You can change a lot about yourself if you make it seem as a decision. You’re not poor because you’re useless; you choose to have little. You’re not socially retarded; you’re asocial. You don’t have friend; you don’t need any. Wear your weakness stamped on a flag and wave it on everyone’s faces, and you can maybe fool them into thinking you’re not trapped in a state of indefinite infantilism. Why blame yourself when you can blame the whole world instead?

TAB “I am chaste. I have spent my life perfecting my body, my mind and my skills, pushing myself to my limits in order to, one day, marry the perfect woman for me. But as you see, I’m far too handsome to walk around without any sort of protection. Women flock around me. They love me. They beg for me, and beg for my manhood to fetilize them,” Wikus explained, his chest puffing up as his tale proceeded. To some degree, it made sense. His skin care, at least this morning’s, had been perfect. And it showed. And Wikus made sure it showed. “Yet my search is nowhere near its conclusion, and thus I need a device to keep my manhood prisoner least vice takes over me and I spend my virginity upon an unworthy wench.”

TAB Walking by the counter, Wikus took a hold of some sort of blueprint for something he didn’t see - something much stupider than what he was asking, surely - and with a quill and ink began drawing what he had in mind.
TAB “I require a metallic contraption I can wear underneath my clothing, locked by a key or some sort of combination, that effectively traps my manhood from the lustful females that desire my chaste flesh.” Wikus kept drawing, glancing towards Boston. “I also need it to allow me to piss as well as fit my big manhood in the case lovely female curves decided to taunt me with their silhouette, to which I do not want to be feel my great girth and large length compressing against a metallic surface. At the same time, it must offer a comfortable hold upon my flesh in the form of soft padding least it provokes unwanted friction between metal and flesh, but also to allow proper ventilation and not cause any unwanted sweat.”

TAB “Finally, it must provide me protection from anything resembling kicks or unwanted squeezing of my gonads, whilst also offering a serious outline of what is, effectively, my manhood, to be shown underneath the fabric of my pants. Can you handle a task of such great magnitude?”

TAB Wikus showed his poor painting. He was not an artist, and not a lifetime of practicing would get him anywhere.

[Boston Brilliant]

22nd of Hamis, 2714

Boston would only watch as the brutish man bumbled his way about the shop, though he noticeably winced when Wikus knocked the stack of papers asunder. That was just plan rude, a true asshole this gentleman was. No matter at all, Boston had dealt with assholes before and he could manage this one. If there is one thing Boston would do, it was his job. He’d suck up and resentment towards the man he had and do his best to please his potential customer. People were people, and money was money after-all, and while it would nice to get a kind customer, they couldn’t all be as pleasant as the last.

At the man’s comment, Boston only gave a small, casual shrug. “Perhaps! Though, they’d need to prove I wrote it and could read it. If they come trying stir some trouble I’ll be sure to give them a run’a’around. Least I can do for the trouble they give me.” He rubbed the back of his head, chuckling a bit nervously. “Though, don’t go telling them that, I’d prefer to keep my nose out of that one.” He lowered his hand, and then used it to lean forward on the counter, giving the man a curious once over. He sounded like a sort who would go telling, but he didn’t look like a man they’d go trusting, so he wasn’t too afraid of his potentially implied threat.

Boston’s eyes would continue to follow the man as he perused the store. There was a tinge of something in the man’s eyes that made Boston second guess his opinion of him, he wasn’t sure what, but it was there. At the man’s mention of a request…well, he now had Boston’s full attention. Boston hadn’t expected such a thing to come from this man’s mouth, it sounded almost outlandish.

“Oh?” Boston said with a brow raised. He tilted his head at the man as he paraded around like a lord, stifling another laugh before it could be noticed. At his second comment a sly smirk grew on Boston’s face. A challenge. The man was going to offer him a challenge. “Please go on, sir, you have my curiosity.” By the looks of the man, Boston guessed it would probably be a weapon of some kind. If he was a fool like Boston had first assumed, he’d probably ask for a gun. Though, something about the way he talked made Boston think otherwise. Boston would hear him out for now.

He leaned on the counter a bit more, taking a step back so it was back was almost horizontal as he watched the man go about. As the man talked, Boston nodded, listening to every word the man had to say, occasionally uttering a “Right right.” Or “I see.” Acting as though he was truly interested in what the man had to say. The truth of the matter was that Boston thought it was hilarious and was doing what he could to hide that fact. The man’s ego was far grander than anything Boston could ever invent. If this man was as perfect as he said he wouldn’t be here in this shop asking for Boston’s services. He would have been able to make it himself, or, have found the perfect woman by now. Sure, the man was buff, and Boston did have some envy of that, but skill and mind? That, Boston doubted.

However, through all the boasting and attempts at seeming superior there was something in it all that surprised Boston. A request for a belt to help protect his manhood? It was a little tasteless, but it was interesting, far more interesting than what Boston thought it was going to be. Boston straightened himself as Wikus began to draw upon one of the older schematics, crossing his arms as he watched the man’s hands move. There was a small hint of anger in Boston’s eyes for the rudeness, but it was quickly suppressed by curiosity. He was far from an artist, but Wikus’s crude schematic did spark some ideas, and with what he was asking…it could all work. There were already improvements that could be made, more space, a few latches in the back, it’d probably be cold and there was the risk of-Ah! But that could be a solution to that. Everything was coming together nicely in his head.

There were several ideas running through his head that Boston didn’t even realize he had been deep in thought for a good few moment, unaware that Wikus was still there. Coming back to reality he looked to Wikus, a bit surprised and then smiled, nodding once at him. “I can do this.” He replied confidently. “I already have an idea. More than one actually. A few.” He stretched out his hand towards the man, a sort determination in his eyes, “Again, the name is Boston Brilliant and I will make you this belt. Of course, for a fee, but I will build it for you.” He looked down to the schematics, nodding a bit. “Yeah, I can do that in…a day or so? Maybe less if I get to work now.” He snapped his finger. “Ah! I’ll need cloth and more metal…I’ll have to visit him…and…yes It might just take more…hm.” He looked back to Wikus, “When do you want it? What time frame do you want to work with?” He gave the man an expecting look, still deep in thought about all the different features the belt would need. The more time he had the better the belt would be, though a deep part of Boston had a feeling that the man would want it sooner rather than later.