It was raining, Ibis noted as he stepped outside to hang the little sign from his door's handle. He briefly entertained the idea of going for a walk in it, something he hadn't done for what seemed like decades. Ah, but he had work to do, so he locked the door and walked through his office into the work room behind it. He ignored the small box of disposable gloves, which he nearly never used, but took up a small pad and pen while he approached his table. A light scratching sound accompanied the nib of his pen as he jotted down some notes.
The man on the table had once been a member of the town's watch. His left eye was left in ruins, though the implement of its destruction (and, indeed, the man's death) was gone. Arrow, dagger, or otherwise, it had been removed to be kept as evidence. Ibis set aside his pen and notes, before taking up his tools and cleaning out the damaged orb.
He heard an indistinct noise as he was cleaning his hands, and looked back toward the office. He wasn't sure, but he thought there were muffled voices there. They could just be someone speaking loudly outside, as the old building filtered sounds in odd ways at times, but better to be sure.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment. If you've something urgent, you can wait there, but it is rather late, and we usually don't conduct business at this hour." He waited for a few moments, and heard no more sounds. "Hrn."
There was a drawer in his work room, with a variety of glass eyes, separated by size. He could have used wood ones (many did), since even those families who would want to have a viewing would very rarely expect the departed's eyes to be open, but he preferred glass. Ibis liked to have a professional touch. He was holding two up, comparing their sizes, when he smelled smoke.
Frowning, he set the glass eyes down and moved to the office door, peered through. And gasped, as the heat of flames blew into his face. "Jack! Fire! Come on Jack!" He yelled up the stairs, to his dog, then turned back to the work room. "Sorry, lad, but I don't know if I'd be able to carry you out." He spoke to the dead man, as he walked to the back door, which opened onto an alley.
Ibis disengaged the lock, turned the handle, and pushed. The door barely moved. He blinked, and pushed again, but the rarely used door was stuck fast. There was another door, which led into the garage, but it was mechanical and could only be opened from within the office. He was considering braving the flames when he heard the shout.
"Ibis!" Someone was in the office. It was muffled, half-buried under the sound of the fire, but he thought he recognized it, and he moved to the office door to peer through the flames.
"Crimson! Back here in the work room!" He called out, loudly as he could. The smoke he'd so far inhaled had weakened his voice somewhat, so he was unsure for a moment if he'd been heard.
There was a loud crack and a burst of wind that nearly knocked Ibis off his feet. The flames seemed to have leapt back, leaving a swath of floor bare for the moment, and the Crimson Flash standing in the door way.
"Come on, Ibis. Let's get you out of here." The speedster reached out for the old man, lifted him over his shoulders. "Not the most dignified, I know, but it beats burning." That said, he darted back through the office, crossing the floor which the flames had already begun to reclaim. Ibis quickly found himself standing in front of his burning building, among a growing crowd of onlookers.
Crim, for his part, had noticed the effect he had on the fire when he'd passed the sound barrier. So he was darting through the office quickly as he could, creating small sonic boom after small sonic boom. He managed to stop the fire before it did much damage to anything outside the office and work room (which contained numerous chemicals which sped the spread of the flames).
((The events of this post take place on the evening of August 22, soon after dusk.))
The man on the table had once been a member of the town's watch. His left eye was left in ruins, though the implement of its destruction (and, indeed, the man's death) was gone. Arrow, dagger, or otherwise, it had been removed to be kept as evidence. Ibis set aside his pen and notes, before taking up his tools and cleaning out the damaged orb.
He heard an indistinct noise as he was cleaning his hands, and looked back toward the office. He wasn't sure, but he thought there were muffled voices there. They could just be someone speaking loudly outside, as the old building filtered sounds in odd ways at times, but better to be sure.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment. If you've something urgent, you can wait there, but it is rather late, and we usually don't conduct business at this hour." He waited for a few moments, and heard no more sounds. "Hrn."
There was a drawer in his work room, with a variety of glass eyes, separated by size. He could have used wood ones (many did), since even those families who would want to have a viewing would very rarely expect the departed's eyes to be open, but he preferred glass. Ibis liked to have a professional touch. He was holding two up, comparing their sizes, when he smelled smoke.
Frowning, he set the glass eyes down and moved to the office door, peered through. And gasped, as the heat of flames blew into his face. "Jack! Fire! Come on Jack!" He yelled up the stairs, to his dog, then turned back to the work room. "Sorry, lad, but I don't know if I'd be able to carry you out." He spoke to the dead man, as he walked to the back door, which opened onto an alley.
Ibis disengaged the lock, turned the handle, and pushed. The door barely moved. He blinked, and pushed again, but the rarely used door was stuck fast. There was another door, which led into the garage, but it was mechanical and could only be opened from within the office. He was considering braving the flames when he heard the shout.
"Ibis!" Someone was in the office. It was muffled, half-buried under the sound of the fire, but he thought he recognized it, and he moved to the office door to peer through the flames.
"Crimson! Back here in the work room!" He called out, loudly as he could. The smoke he'd so far inhaled had weakened his voice somewhat, so he was unsure for a moment if he'd been heard.
There was a loud crack and a burst of wind that nearly knocked Ibis off his feet. The flames seemed to have leapt back, leaving a swath of floor bare for the moment, and the Crimson Flash standing in the door way.
"Come on, Ibis. Let's get you out of here." The speedster reached out for the old man, lifted him over his shoulders. "Not the most dignified, I know, but it beats burning." That said, he darted back through the office, crossing the floor which the flames had already begun to reclaim. Ibis quickly found himself standing in front of his burning building, among a growing crowd of onlookers.
Crim, for his part, had noticed the effect he had on the fire when he'd passed the sound barrier. So he was darting through the office quickly as he could, creating small sonic boom after small sonic boom. He managed to stop the fire before it did much damage to anything outside the office and work room (which contained numerous chemicals which sped the spread of the flames).
((The events of this post take place on the evening of August 22, soon after dusk.))