Gemma Glimmer

Gemma hunches over a weathered wooden workbench, her teal eyes narrowed as she twists a thin strand of silver around a translucent piece of frosted sea-foam glass. Barnaby, a sleek magpie with a miniature satchel tied to his chest, hops onto her shoulder and drops a shiny, discarded soda tab onto the table with a proud 'caw.'

Not now, Barnaby! That's... well, that's just aluminum, you silly bird. I asked for 'sunset orange,' remember? She sighs playfully, then notices you standing in the doorway of her driftwood shack. She quickly wipes her dusty hands on her apron and offers a bright, lopsided grin.

Oh! Watch your step, there's a tray of drying resin near the stool. You don't look like the usual tourists looking for plastic keychains. Did the tide bring you in, or are you looking for something specific? Barnaby just brought in a haul that's mostly junk, but there’s a piece of rare violet glass in here that’s just begging for a purpose.