2697/All a-Quiver

All a-Quiver
Date of Scene:	30 July 2020
Location:	Harbourside
Synopsis:	Malcolm recieves a highly anticipated antiques shipment, only to discover a surprise within that sets him all a-quiver.
Cast of Characters:	Malcolm Merlyn, Amanda Sefton
Tinyplot:	Zodiac Rising

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Malcolm Merlyn has posed:
    It is just another day at the harbor docks at Starling City. Or, is it? For it seems that there is a bit more urgency over at the Merlyn Global docks. There is a definite hustling of bodies, the kind that one expects when a normally easy workday is interrupted with some self-constructed urgency.

    Only, this isn't a faux emergency. No, not when the boss comes in. And today, the pressure is truly on, for the owner and CEO of Merlyn Global himself is on the premises.

    Malcolm strides across the causeway between the warehouse and the dock proper. His steps are purposeful and quick...though one would sense that it is not the walk of an executive inspecting his holdings. Rather, it is the walk of a man used to getting what he wants...and what he wants happens to be part of the shipment that just came in. "I trust the journey here was without incident?"

    There is a frantic nod from someone...Malcolm assumes the harbormaster, though what his name is matters not. Instead, he pulls himself up to a shipping container, smiling brightly as he holds his arms out to his sides. "Fabulous. These pieces are going to go directly to my home. Perhaps also to the apartment over in New York City, too, depending on what I feel like." It is no secret that Malcolm has been splitting his time between Starling and New York, though the mention of an apartment is not exactly common knowledge. "You have no idea how long it took me to find these..."

    Who is he talking to? Himself, of course. Although there is a specific request now. "Open it up."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
There is a well-dressed man with a shock of naturally red hair who has accompanied the shipment since it was offloaded from the ship that carried it across the ocean to this point. He, too, has a bearing different than the workmen and sycophants that usually surround the CEO. His steps are smooth and confident, as purposeful as Merlyn's own, if slightly quicker. The quickness is due to the fact that he's only 4'6". He has to work to keep up with men of average height. He just doesn't choose to *look* like he's working at it.

Thus, when the request is made to open it up, he flicks a finger at one of the more obsequeious workmen and points to the wooden crate. The workman then produces a crowbar and proceeds to wrench the top off the crate.

Within the crate is a mess of dried grasses used to pack around foam padding that cradles the pieces. The short man reaches ably over the side to flip back some of the coverings on the topmost pieces revealing them for Merlyn's inspection.

"I think you'll be pleased," he says pleasantly. "Take a look."

Malcolm Merlyn has posed:
    A hand flitters out, shooing away the hovering harbormaster, who seems to be more than eager to duck out of sight. Blue eyes glance over (and down) to the ginger gentleman as Malcolm gives an affirming nod. The cerulean orbs shift then, to watch the crowbar bite into the wooden crate. The squeal of metal nails being yanked from their moorings ring out, followed soon after by the clutter of wood to pavement. Malcolm's hands clap with delight as he leans over to inspect his wares.

    The grasses are brushed aside, to reveal one of the first pieces. From within the foam pieces, a flash of red and gold...a cuirass, judging from the shape and size. Another package, long and thin, betrays itself to be a medieval long sword. Another distinctly curved piece of foam encases a unstrung shortbow. All seem to be pieces fit for warfare...and rather old from all appearances. The pieces are treated with care, oh so gently placed to the side while the next treasure is uncovered.

    "You...are quite right. These pieces are exactly what I could have hoped for." The words are out, but the eyes...the face....they shift into curiousity as there seems to be an additional item, nestled close to the bottom of the crate. The confusion is apparent as those eyes shift back to the courier, the question unspoken, but plain as day. Is there some mistake?

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The red-haired man smiles, perhaps a little knowingly, his own blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. "I found something special," he says conspiratorially, now, waving the man with the crowbar away. "I thought it would be just up your alley."

In saying so, he gently shifts some of the topmost matter aside, flipping back the wrapping on an ancient-styled quiver, its well-aged leather ornately carved and decorated finely. A true work of craftsmanship and art. Especially to the right connosieur.

"If you don't like it," the man says casually, drawing it to the surface, "I happily take it myself. Reimburse you the cost, of course."

Malcolm Merlyn has posed:
    Oh, but it is an extremely intriguing article. And...it is dreadfully apparent that Malcolm is well and truly enraptured with the quiver. For his attention is completely upon the item. Even the individual with the crowbar is forgotten. And the comment about being perfect for Malcolm? Brushed to the side. After all, it was in a collection of weapons and armor...hardly suspicious to assume that the buyer would be interested in such an exquisite item.

    "Oh, I do see you have impeccable taste. Do you mind if I...?" The question trails off as Malcolm reaches out, a single hand for the moment, to touch the quiver. Fingertips hover precariously close to the surface, almost afraid to mar the surface.

    Almost, but not quite.

    A solitary fingertip. The right index finger makes contact. Feather light, but definite. The leather is cool to the touch, but warms from the tender caress of that solitary digit...

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The red-haired man gestures lightly, stepping slightly to one side to allow Merlyn to more fully explore the piece. His smile is still knowing, but satisfied in that way a man who does his job well may give. There's no smugness to it, merely confidence.

"The curator who examined the piece suggests its pattern dates back to the horse archers of the Achaemenid Empire," he says conversationally, speaking about the Old Testament Persian empire as if it were simply another county a few states over. "However, it's unlikely the leather would have survived so well over the course of that many centuries. He believes it to be a more recent replica -- within the last 150 years or so and likely by a craftsman with museum connection. What I can tell you with certainty is that it has circulated throughout several prominant caliphates in the Middle East and was rescued from ISIS attacks several years back by a Romanian archeologist working on behalf of the UN. How it escaped public curation to become available to private collectors is quite the mystery. But, I do consider you a fortunate man, should you decide to keep the piece."

Malcolm Merlyn has posed:
    There is an absent-minded nod as Malcolm listens. He certainly hears what the shorter-statured gentleman is saying, but it is quite apparent that the main focus is the quiver beneath his fingertips. As the genealogy of the quiver is given, the urge to actually hold the quiver becomes too great to ignore. The fingertips slide across the top and curl under, grasping underneath as the leather quiver is gradually lifted out of the crate. It hovers, tenuously, before it rises to shoulder-height, the arms shifting to cradle the artifact. A hand is freed, tracing the intricate etchings. It...is almost as if the leather could be that old. The whole quiver exudes a sense of gravity...a weight of years that is certainly felt.

    "I bow to your wisdom. You do certainly know how to drive home a bargain." Bargain or not, this is something that, now that Malcolm sees it, holds it, touches it....this is something he would have gladly purchased at nearly any price.

    "I do wish to keep this, with my thanks."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
The red-haired man nods simply to that, taking another half step back in mute acquiessence. The sale is made. Thus, he smiles. "You're quite welcome," he says warmly. "I do prefer to see pieces as equisite as this in the hands of connosieurs who truly appreciate the treasure they hold. So many want them merely for a line in a ledger. I sense you are not one of them." Not in this specific case, at least.

And that's good. That's very, very good. The quiver is truly precious, after all.

Malcolm Merlyn has posed:
    The quiver is most certainly precious. That is plainly felt. It is evident in how Malcolm holds it. The rest of the shipment....the items he was not-so-patiently waiting for...are all but forgotten. It is the quiver that has his attention. And continue to hold it.

    Soon, soon. When there are no prying eyes...there will be a further inspection. And perhaps....just perhaps...the quiver may be called to service once more.