Many things had been said about Ammy. To her, around her, behind her back and whispered, but among them, rarely mentioned was the redheds penchant for swinging a wrench or fiddling with mechanical things. She hid her geeky side well behind those flashy spells, glowing alchemy arrays and the scents of oil and gasoline masked by rose oil and reagents. Ah, but there in lies the mystery. Ammy was a gear head and loved to work on machines.
A passion that never left her soul or her mind when magic and alchemy faltered during her mental days of black mist. Few have figured out this side of her. Some may have glimpsed a gadget here, a doodad there, perhaps a shimmer as she telported via space ship when she felt too tired to cast magic. A hint of tools in her shop as well, the Alchemist Fire, now rediscovered when Fleet brought it to her attention that she had a shop with her listed as an owner.
She had gone to see this shop, and found a key as if she had placed it there among black glass bricks herself. The amazement at what she found inside dazzled her. Had she really owned this shop? Run alchemy and potions in here? Done business? Dazed, she wandered through the ground floor for a while looking over potions, vials, boxes and display cases of magical items. Many of it a mystery to her. Perhaps, in time it would come back to her if she used the shop again.
Stairs caught her attention. They lead up to a second floor as well as down to a basement. She chose to walk the marble steps down to the basement. It was dark, and smelled of oil, ozone and metal. Her hand slid along a cool cemet wall and found a switch. At her touch, several rows of flourescent lights winked to light bathing the basement white clarity. She was standing in a high tech garage and assembly laboratory. Most of the equipment lovingly packed and just waiting to be used.
The inner geek girl was starting to run around shouting with glee. Ammy leaned against the cool wall and a smile formed on her muzzle. She had been itching to work on something mechanical and had found the safe haven for it. Her mind remembered a felinoid fellow she met in the Teas'n Tomes the other night. A hand dug out the card he handed her.
S'arello . . . They had been talking about muscle cars over tea and biscuits. He even offered to help her when she found one to restore. That smile now turned into a grin showing teeth. Well, she had a garage now it seemed. All was left was finding an old wreck and getting to work.
A passion that never left her soul or her mind when magic and alchemy faltered during her mental days of black mist. Few have figured out this side of her. Some may have glimpsed a gadget here, a doodad there, perhaps a shimmer as she telported via space ship when she felt too tired to cast magic. A hint of tools in her shop as well, the Alchemist Fire, now rediscovered when Fleet brought it to her attention that she had a shop with her listed as an owner.
She had gone to see this shop, and found a key as if she had placed it there among black glass bricks herself. The amazement at what she found inside dazzled her. Had she really owned this shop? Run alchemy and potions in here? Done business? Dazed, she wandered through the ground floor for a while looking over potions, vials, boxes and display cases of magical items. Many of it a mystery to her. Perhaps, in time it would come back to her if she used the shop again.
Stairs caught her attention. They lead up to a second floor as well as down to a basement. She chose to walk the marble steps down to the basement. It was dark, and smelled of oil, ozone and metal. Her hand slid along a cool cemet wall and found a switch. At her touch, several rows of flourescent lights winked to light bathing the basement white clarity. She was standing in a high tech garage and assembly laboratory. Most of the equipment lovingly packed and just waiting to be used.
The inner geek girl was starting to run around shouting with glee. Ammy leaned against the cool wall and a smile formed on her muzzle. She had been itching to work on something mechanical and had found the safe haven for it. Her mind remembered a felinoid fellow she met in the Teas'n Tomes the other night. A hand dug out the card he handed her.
S'arello . . . They had been talking about muscle cars over tea and biscuits. He even offered to help her when she found one to restore. That smile now turned into a grin showing teeth. Well, she had a garage now it seemed. All was left was finding an old wreck and getting to work.