Donovan's
Located next to GalloLoans, Rick’s (imaginatively named) shop, Donovan's (formally Donovan's Commissions, Wares & Repairs) looks exactly as you’d expect from one set up in this neighborhood—which is to say, creaky floorboards, wooden beams, and a general feeling of old. It wasn’t new when Rick bought it in 2003, and six years later it isn’t new now.
However, since then the place has undergone heavy renovation. The crappy shelves he had once used as displays, have long been replaced with magnificent oak frames; the rickety display cases with sturdier, ornate ones made of carefully wrought iron and glass. The entire space has been enlarged and divided into aisles, the ugly-ass chandelier replaced with a collection of smaller, simpler ones he had made himself, and a good third of the second floor has been torn away to allow for the newly installed glass ceiling to let in some light. Overall, the effect’s a careful balance between the old-fashioned, customary design and contemporary art nouveau.
Lazily swimming in midair by the cluttered, uppermost shelves at the right side of the room, is a small, motley school of school of mechanical fish– some large, some small, a handful so tiny they’re mere glints of light to the naked eye, one so large it’s a massive, hulking shadow (-a fantastical octopus, whose design splendidly deviates from anything in nature) lurking beneath the ceiling. Each and every one of them – cichlids, seahorses, idols, koi ‘n all – is painstakingly made by wand and hand, until the sheer amount of detail gone into every scale and fin can be seen from a glance.
Spread out further into the room, are small, circular cages made from tarnished bronze. Floating within the middle of each as they hang from the ceiling, are—things, odd clusters of cogs that appear to have no identifiable purpose but determinedly whir on with it anyway. What they actually do is known only to Rick (and, presumably, anyone he’s chosen to tell).
Displayed on the actual shelves themselves are all sorts of things, that are organized by a vague organization system apparently based on price and usefulness (or lack of); closest to the entrance appear to be the most practical - yet cheapest - of the lot, mostly cogs and widgets used to replace necessary parts for larger instruments and contraptions, only sparsely littered with the occasional pricey one; centered at the heart of the room seem to be the ones most expensive (which also include both the smallest and the largest of them). Along by the walls are where most of the actual, whole creations – and more of the parts they’re made of – are respectively put on display and stowed away; both common and novel appliances line the left side of the room, whereas said parts are stored in the shelved boxes on the right.
Some, however, help divide the aisles because Rick is a cheapskate. These are usually decorative.
But it’s at the back where some of the man’s best – and most strangest – are showcased. In a rather well-lit spot tucked into right curve of the stairwell, is a small mangrove tree—of metal. Its trunk is made of thick, interwoven chords of bronze tinted with hints of brass, the leaves crafted from tarnished copper and each one minutely, intricately faceted. Nearby are smaller displays, pots of similarly-crafted plants made on a much smaller, simpler scale: the trumpet of one daffodil shines with an opalescent gleam; and nestled in the shadows is a loose, writhing knot of Devil's Snare 
, worked from tantalum and obsidian. Between them is a single, spherical astrolabe made of solid, antique gold, runes painstakingly engraved into its brass colores –its center floating with an almost inaudible, thrumming energy.
Everything else has been covered, because of reasons.
So, yeah. All in all, Donovan’s is a nice place. Just be sure to keep your hands where Rick can see them—and don’t expect a friendly face, either. As far as he’s concerned, you’re there for the craftsmanship—not the customer service.
Recent History
In August 2010, the shop was downsized to consignment-only.
On February 22, 2011, Jebediah Layton set it on fire.
Products
Commissions
Most of Rick’s profits are made by taking on commissions. Whether it’s a simple part (that, given the right materials, you can probably make yourself) or a complex architectural mechanism (you can’t), he’ll work it out. Prices may vary, but providing your own blueprint is generally faster, and cheaper.
Merchandise/Consignment
In his spare time, Rick makes and sells his own inventions, which may range from widgets to whole creations. If he’s impressed, he may agree to sell one of yours (with the ten percent commission fee).
Services
Officially, Donovan’s is repair, augmentation, and alteration only. Prices depend on the level of difficulty of your concern.
Location and Hours
Store hours are 9 to 5, Tuesday through Friday. Appointments can be discussed in person during store hours, or any hour via owl-mail; walk-ins considered only during store hours. If no one’s at the counter, just ring the bell.
Address - 342 Diagon Alley South, London
Staff
- Rick Donovan - Owner
- Phillip Kinsey - shop assistant
- Alexandra Carstairs - apprentice
- An as-of-yet unnamed werewolf, working as a receptionist.
- Lua Taylor, Former Shop Assistant July - August 2010
- Juni Zamperia, Former Cashier/Receptionist July - August 2010
Customers
Residents
- Leon Faulkner plus 2 dogs
