Perfection [Open]

[morgan]

Morgan walked slowly along the aisles of Schrivenshaft's Quill Shop, browsing for new quills and things of the sort. His eyes moved intensly along the rows and stacks of different shapes and forms of quills the shop held, but nothing sincerely catching his eyes. Morgan could only have the best when it came to his use of quills, he was a writer and he knew that a writer always counted on their utensil, only th best writing came from the most pecuiliar of writing utensils. He grunted in frustration as he hit the end of the aisle and moved on to the next one. "Sir, do you need help finding anything? Anything in particular you are looking for," he heard the employee at the counter ask him. He sneered with the person could not see. Does it look like I need your help he thought to himself though he turned and politely declined the employee's help. He didn't need help to find a quill. What idiot did? Most people just came in here for something basic anyway so why would anyone need help in finding a writing utensil? If it weren't for the fact that another person had to monitor transactions, some employee would be out of a job and could proceed to use their not talents on some other dead end job. He snickered at the thought of the employee of the counter in the same stupid position he was in now, only in a different store. Idiot.

He grunted before he continued his search up the next aisle of quills and pens, inks and writing utensils. The quill he was looking for was very expensive, as all of the recent quills he bought lately were. But these had to be expensive because he only asked for the best from the employee. As he moved along the second aisle and reached the end of it, Morgan became more annoyed. This was supposed to be one of the best quill shops any world and yet Morgan could not find any quills that suited him. He had come here in the first play because it seemed that he had been missing a lot of quills. He just knew someone completely rude had taken them to get back at him for something he did or said to them, which they definitely deserved, whoever it was. At first, he thought it was idiotic for someone to steal his quills, something so easily replacable. But this was hard, finding a quill suited jus for you. He began to reach the end of the aisle again before he let out a frustrated growl under his breath as he moved to the final aisle that lay up against the wall.

His eyes gazed over the last sets of quills as he slowly moved along in the aisle in a slow stroll, he just had to find the perfect ones. And in a random cup on one of the more lowered shelves was a cup of quills, black feathers, black tip to it with a winding pattern of grey and whithe throughout the hold of the pencil. He picked up the pencil and looked at it with a grin on his face at his success. Yes these were his, these quills were made specificully for him, and he knew it a he picked a few up and went up to the counter of the employee. "You all ready?" they said before grabbing his items and checking him out.