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Azwel's lab in the Down has been growing more and more of a sense of permanency. Originally just a space to conduct his more flammable work, it's slowly become a highly organised workspace fronted by something very like an old-fashioned apothecary. Granted, those are common in this town, but his has that air about it of places where one can find things like dangerous magickal items and horrific statuettes from beyond the stars.
In the shop, the floor, walls, and furnishings are all of a dark, nearly black-varnished wood and the ceiling is panelled with something equally dark, yet the place avoids a cave-like look thanks to the generous lighting. To augment the rather substandard wiring typical to places in the Down, Azwel had added mirrors and lenses that catch and throw the light no matter how feeble it might become. The floorboards creak in a few places and the glass on some of the cases is so thick and old that it's started to ripple in a few places. The windows on either side of the door hold the traditional large glass carboys full of various-coloured liquids, as well as some antique tools laid out like museum displays. The cases are filled with bottles and vials and flasks of every description, from plain glass things to beautiful crystal, filled with all manner of substances gathered and concocted over the time he'd been here. Dried plants sit and hang in bunches here and there, and a shelf lined with stones and crystals dominates one part of the wall. Another shelf full of books of varying age and condition stands next to it. Planters hang from the ceiling and drip leaves and vines and flowers from their rims. The whole place is redolent with magick and herbal scents and antiquity. A door with frosted glass leads to the laboratory.
The laboratory, by contrast, is open, airy, about as well-ventilated as a place in the Down can get, and crammed full of scientific and medical paraphernalia from any number of eras. Prominent among them is a cushioned exam table retrofitted with metal rings bristling with crystals and mirrors and lenses around it. Brackets at one end hold glass spheres. Several other worktables hold tools and works in progress, and at one deliberately well-lit end of the space stands a giant wooden desk upon which sits papers and gadgets and a very thick book open to a half-filled page.
Despite the sheer amount of things, the place is well-organised, and Azwel himself quite easy to find.
In the shop, the floor, walls, and furnishings are all of a dark, nearly black-varnished wood and the ceiling is panelled with something equally dark, yet the place avoids a cave-like look thanks to the generous lighting. To augment the rather substandard wiring typical to places in the Down, Azwel had added mirrors and lenses that catch and throw the light no matter how feeble it might become. The floorboards creak in a few places and the glass on some of the cases is so thick and old that it's started to ripple in a few places. The windows on either side of the door hold the traditional large glass carboys full of various-coloured liquids, as well as some antique tools laid out like museum displays. The cases are filled with bottles and vials and flasks of every description, from plain glass things to beautiful crystal, filled with all manner of substances gathered and concocted over the time he'd been here. Dried plants sit and hang in bunches here and there, and a shelf lined with stones and crystals dominates one part of the wall. Another shelf full of books of varying age and condition stands next to it. Planters hang from the ceiling and drip leaves and vines and flowers from their rims. The whole place is redolent with magick and herbal scents and antiquity. A door with frosted glass leads to the laboratory.
The laboratory, by contrast, is open, airy, about as well-ventilated as a place in the Down can get, and crammed full of scientific and medical paraphernalia from any number of eras. Prominent among them is a cushioned exam table retrofitted with metal rings bristling with crystals and mirrors and lenses around it. Brackets at one end hold glass spheres. Several other worktables hold tools and works in progress, and at one deliberately well-lit end of the space stands a giant wooden desk upon which sits papers and gadgets and a very thick book open to a half-filled page.
Despite the sheer amount of things, the place is well-organised, and Azwel himself quite easy to find.
