| Welcome to our home, a world in which anything can happen. From sprawling deserts and vast forests to massive volcanoes and luscious hot springs, Soare and the Scattered Isles are beautiful places just waiting to be explored. For the brave and the bold or the cautious and the wary, creatures of all kinds roam the earth, looking for adventure or for a place to call their own. Species of all kinds - the well-known and the unknown - thrive here, though not always in harmony. Elenlond is an original medieval fantasy RPG with a world that's as broad as it is unique. Calling on characters of all kinds, the sky's the limit in a world where boundaries are blurred and the imagination runs rampant. Restrictions are limited and members are encouraged to embrace their creativity, to see where they can go and what they can do. It's no longer just text on a page - it becomes real. Enter Our World |
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| sing a song of sixpence; for Dnan! /Autumn | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 15 2011, 09:50 PM (1,073 Views) | |
| Cricket | Nov 15 2011, 09:50 PM Post #1 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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The grave diggers had gone home around midnight, but Cricket had kept digging even as the sun rose to where it now rested, heavy in the sky. She had finally stopped, throwing the spade unceremoniously to the ground and picking up hr large staff, leaning on it heavily as she limped back towards her home in the distance. Behind her there were a series four rectangular holes: One was six feet long, one was four feet, one was three and a half, and the last was two. Mrs. Greyson, the local eccentric in the nearby town had taken it upon herself to drown all her children, and then herself- it was terrible news, of course, and bad for business as Cricket could never bring it upon herself to charge as much for tiny coffins as she did for the larger ones. Hugo, the spectral black mutt was curled up on the large deck in front of the house. The door, of course, was ajar as it always was, as were the windows. Cricket simply could not stand to be somewhere all closed up, not after her little ordeal waking up six feet under. She nudged the dog with the toe of her engineer boot while she unfastened the buckles on the front of her caplet, tossing it on the back of an ancient looking rocking chair before she threw herself into it, letting the gentle sway relax her aching shoulders and ignoring the hammock that beckoned her from between two of the front posts. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, so what was the point in pretending? Especially now that dusty sunlight filled the crisp air. She only allowed herself a moment’s rest, watching Hugo reluctantly stand up and yawn. There were no cats in the graveyard around her house, not with the mammoth grimm-dog patrolling the area. He thrust his muzzle into her hands and he grit her teeth as if angry while she scratched him behind the ears. It looked vicious, but the dog’s tail wagged only to droop as Cricket stood and trudged over to her work area. The road by her house was still and quiet, no funerals planned until that night, so there was nothing to watch. Besides, she still had to finish the array of little coffins, and the one big one. She approached the bench open work area and set to building the little caskets, leaning her staff on the wall so she could merely limp around the space, fetching saws and wood and the velveteen bunny fur she only used in the death beds of babes. Her hammers pounded the nails into the wood, sending a murder of surprised crows soaring into the sky. Hugo stood, barking at the birds but Cricket ignored all the distractions. When she was at work, she was focused, pouring her heart into her life’s work. Still, the cawing reminded her of something, and as she brought the mallets down she began to recite, loudly, believing herself to be alone. “Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye.” Thunk “Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie.” Thunk “When the pie was opened, The birds began to sing;” Thunk “Wasn't that a dainty dish, To set before the king?” She paused blinking as Hugo suddenly left off the porch, barking loudly. She rolled her eyes, assuming it was some unfortunate rabbit that had caught the dogs attention. The sign above her front door creaked on it’s hinges as a breeze blew through; it read, “Finest coffins in Soare”. |
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| Alexandros | Nov 15 2011, 10:35 PM Post #2 |
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One-Liner Wonder
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It had been a boring trip so far, riding this far out, and he had the time to kill now while he waited for the smith to fix his order of adamantine. He could have just sent a messenger of course, but right now his mother was typically driving him up the wall with the usual business, and any excuse just to get out of the house was grabbed, if he could have left a smoke trail he would have, for leaving so swiftly. Alexandros had ambled around the city most of the day, his first time properly visiting Eldahar, at least, since he was old enough to go on his own. He'd made plenty of trips when he was very young, clinging to his mothers skirts and teasing his sisters as they journeyed to visit relatives. After all, half his blood was native to this land, even if he was born and bred in Morrim, though the heat was getting to him a little. He was used to the windy plains, not the sandy hills. Still, it was just as windy here and what better place to test out a few...experiments. There was prime opportunity to make preparations for a few other things as well, primarily, pranks. Anyone else would probably say that at thirty years of age he was too old to be doing such things, but it wasn't so much a prank as an experiment in itself. If it worked...well, he just hoped it wouldn't give her a heart attack. The big roan warhorse trotted easily along the path, the day had been for the most part uneventful and he was dying for a run, but Alex had as of yet refused to let him. He'd done it plenty enough on the way here, more to tire the beast than anything, he had a reputation for being ill tempered and biting anyone but his master. Sometimes even that didn't put him off. "Easy, Spot. We'll get our fix later." He sat astride the big animal, guiding with his knees and holding his hands behind his head, eye-protection device fastened securely with the shaded lenses snapped over the plain glass ones to keep the sun off, his loose braid swinging with the rhythm of the horse's gait., clad in a simple sleeveless open-collared shirt of linen and loose pants tucked into his calf-high boots, his coat left behind today for simpler garb. Besides, with this heat, he wouldn't be needing it. Who wears a coat in a desert, hoenstly? Coffins. Oh this will be good. I'll be in the doghouse for weeks, but so worth it. A faint strain of music caught his ear as he approached the house, tilting his head and pulling up short better to listen. "What say you, Spot? Shall we join in?" He laughed, nudging his steed forward and calling out in a clear tone, "The king was in his counting house, counting out his moneeey; The queen was in the parlour, eating bread and honeeey. The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clooothes; When down came a blackbird, and pecked off her noooooooose!" At the last line Spot reared, pawing the air with his hooves and thumping them down in the dust, snorting and tossing his head, his ears lying back and teeth bared as something raced towards them. Alex turned in the saddle to see, expecting by the barking, a dog, and getting, what looked like a hairy wolf the size of a small donkey racing towards them. No wonder he's alarmed. What is that? Puzzled, he dropped his hands to his knees, one reaching out to grip the horse's shaggy mane in reassurance. "Well well, aren't you just a little...uh..cutie," he grinned lopsidedly, undecided whether he should attempt to pet the hound or lose a hand. |
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| Cricket | Nov 15 2011, 11:04 PM Post #3 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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The visible sections of Cricket’s face had slowly grown more and more red as, in her silence, she heard another voice calling out the rest of the little song. She was frozen a second, peering out across her dead front lawn to the road where she could make out a large warhorse with a rider perched atop it’s back. This was nothing new, of course, lots of people passed by her home on that road, but what did get her heart pounding was the sight of Hugo snarling towards the innocent passerby. “Hugo!” ’ She yelled after him, picking up her staff and using it to hobble out of her open workshop, lamely chasing the angry over-sized black mutt clear up to the edge of the road. Finally he stopped, teeth barred, but his ears perked as if hearing Cricket’s yells for the first time. “You blithering idiot NO! Stop!” She had finally made it up to where he had stopped, leaning hard on her staff but upon coming into reach she prodded the huge murderous beast with the end of it. Hugo whine and rose up from his hunkered position. Cricket looked up at the man then, no doubt a noble by the looks of his horse and his clothes. Her brown leather mask was secured tightly, red eyes only looking so far as up to his chest from habit. “Sorry.” She said after a long, awkward pause, “He’s not really dangerous just over exci- no- Hugo-” Even as she spoke the dog took that moment to cease her staff in his powerful jaws and wrench it from her grasp. Much to her dismay he pranced out of reach and hunkered only his front to the ground, tail wagging playfully. He wasn’t a stupid animal, she knew he was getting pay back for having been ignored all night long. She limped towards him and he bounced backwards and she just looked back at the man, “....See?” She said finally, gesturing at the dog. She had a soft face, and gentle eyes though she seemed adamant about not meeting his gaze. Bored now that Cricket seemed less distress Hugo felt the need to get behind her and nudge her towards the man, making her stumble. Cricket seemed incredibly uncomfortable around another person, but she was more embarrassed that her dog had tried to attack someone of noble blood. “Could I offer you some refreshments?” She looked back at her modest dwelling, “If not for yourself then maybe your horse?” |
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| Alexandros | Nov 15 2011, 11:30 PM Post #4 |
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One eyebrow slowly rose over his goggles, his grin sticking to his face with gentle amusement as Spot turned and snorted at the hound, gnashing his teeth and whinnying softly until Alex gave his mane a tug. The woman forced to hobble after her animal, though a little comical was not enough to keep that amusement and it faded from his face again. I should probably remove my eye-protectors, usually intimidates people. She doesn't seem to care one way or another though soooo~... "Quite alright Miss. Spot here likes to prance to the gate and intimidate people coming up to the house as well. I swear they just like being overprotective," he jested, cuffing the horse absently as he turned and tried to nip his owner. He watched as the great dog, or whatever it was, stole her staff and playfully tried to entice her to join in the game. She clearly cared a lot of the animal, and it seemed to behave as normally as any other canine for all its size, so shrugging to himself, he swung his leg over his mounts back and slipped down easily onto the ground. As she stumbled, he reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder in case she needed support after noting her lameness, and now on closer inspection, his gray eyes took on a curious gleam behind his eyewear. I wonder what happened that she feels the need to hide her face like that? She's certainly pretty enough on one side, unless it's some sort of fashion I've not heard about...I know there was that festival with all the masks but that was years ago...hmm... "Alright Miss? Don't worry about about refreshments, he's just tetchy because I haven't been letting him run yet." When he was sure she was fine standing on her own, he let his hand drop to his side, itching for a pocket to stuff into, something simply to occupy it. He'd been having ideas for a while now and his palms were starting to itch, not having his tools all to hand at the bench with half a dozen unfinished random mechanics, and a pile of sketched half-baked schematics to work at. "Name's Alexandros. I hear you make the best coffins in Soare...or at least, your sign says so." |
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| Cricket | Nov 15 2011, 11:58 PM Post #5 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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Cricket was lucky for the hand that grabbed her shoulder, keeping her upright as she found her footing again and looked up, past his shoulder smiling weakly as her eyes wandered over, across his face but never looking him in the eye. Her eyebrow quirked up, curious about the eyewear now that she had a better look. Still, she could at least home that such odd adornment would keep the questions away from her own mask. Hugo picked up her staff and trotted back to the house with it, pleased with his manipulations of the situation. He seemed like an other average pet, if not oversized, but to be honest he was quite intelligent for being just a beast. He dropped the stick at the bottom of the steps and then laid down under the porch, chewing a large bone that looked suspiciously like a human femur.
Cricket watched her staff walk away with mild contempt for it’s carrier, then looked back at the odd man she was apparently entertaining. “The best... yea, I get orders from all around the country.” She nodded, not bragging but just a statement, “It was backed up for awhile, with all the death, but if you want to see some of them I have a few..” She turned on her heel and pointed one gloved hand towards her workshop, limping a bit heavily, asking for help never once crossing her mind as she gestured him to follow. She was quite awkward, obviously not used to entertaining company. “You can bring your horse, I have a paddock you can shut him in if you want or he can just graze...” Her father had gotten rid of their horses after her death, so though they just had a barn and a fenced area. It had all fallen into disrepair, of course, but it still functioned. As they drew closer to the home of the casket maiden it became apparent that, despite the changing weather, every window and door to the house was wide open. Once close enough, Cricket retrieved her walking stick and climbed the creaking wooden stairs. Her rocking chair creaked a little bit as the breeze made it move, and made the net hammock swing. All the wind chimes clanked and clatters and, with a moment of heistation, Cricket entered the house leaving him to follow. It seemed like the inside of the house was largely untouched, dust on the dresser and all the furniture, spinner weaving webs across the tops of doorways that must not have been passed in years. Still, with an air of bravery about her Cricket made it all the way to the kitchen where and open window calmed her nerves. She broke a loaf of bread in half and offered it to him with a bottle of cheap wine. “I hope this will do, I don’t like going into town, so there isn’t much....variety.” Her head tilted, “So, what is your name?... Where are you from?” She struggled to make small talk as she became the trek back through the house, carrying her half of the loaf and her own bottle of red wine. Once outside she sat on the steps, expecting him to take the chair and sighing with relief as the weight was relieved from her injured leg. She looked back at him and couldn’t resist the question, “What’s on your face?...Your...thing...” She gestured at her own mask smiling a broken little smile. She was definitely an odd one. Edited by Cricket, Nov 16 2011, 12:08 AM.
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| Alexandros | Nov 16 2011, 12:51 AM Post #6 |
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"Oh don't worry, he won't go far, tying him down will just make him more likely to try and eat my arm when I let him loose again." He didn't seem to have much choice but to follow the woman across the scratchy lawn and to the house, the gentleman in him urging him to offer her his arm, but something warding him off. The stiff rigidness of her back perhaps, it positively radiated pride and 'don't touch me' vibes. The conflict made him want to dither like..well...like a noble. He almost laughed at the thought, forever stuck in that place that was not quite living up to his title, but easily too much wealth to be considered an 'honest man.' Suppressing a sigh he followed on, taking the proffered food and drink, and responding to her questions, firing off a couple of his own in an attempt to engage her. She seemed reluctant if anything, detached and awkward, as if she didn't have much contact with people, or simply had a major aversion to them. "Alexandros Phloropoulos. I'm from Morrim, meant to be visiting some relatives, and ordering some materials while I'm here. I'm an engineer for the empress." Not that I've had much luck actually acquiring goods lately, all my bloody shipments get jacked. "What about you? Do you have a name, or should I just call you the Mysterious Masked Coffin Lady?" He teased gently, unsure how she'd take it considering how withdrawn she was. Alex eased himself down onto the steps beside her, taking a pull from the bottle of wine and making an appreciative sound. Not bad. "Can't beat a bit of Red. Oh..these." Placing the bottle on the step and the bread on his knee, he loosened the fastening and pushed the goggles on top of his hair, which became messier pushed back and sticking out at crazy angles. Too short to tie properly, too long to not get caught in the straps. It wasn't something that honestly concerned him, there were more important things that fixing his hair in his books. "I use them for...things. Everyday sort of things but it puts people off. It's pretty bright out, Morrim is usually rather...gloomy, this time of year. They shade my eyes." He wondered for a moment if he should ask about her mask, then decided not to. He didn't want to risk offending her, she'd reached out enough to provide wine and a moment of disinterested conversation. At least she seemed disinterested, she didn't exactly put much fire into her words, like the whole subject bored her. That naturally got him wondering what did catch her fancy. Deviating from the plan, as always. "So. Where'd you come across your friend there? Never seen anything like him before." He picked up the wine bottle again, gesturing at Hugo. |
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| Cricket | Nov 16 2011, 01:15 AM Post #7 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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And engineer for the empress? Well not only was she entertaining guests (horse included) for the first time in quite awhile, but legitimately important guests. There was a loud crack as Hugo finally broke the bone he’d been knawing on but just continued to chew it, unbothered as half of it fell into the dirt. “I’m Persephone Bones... but no one actually calls me that. Everyone calls me Cricket.” She looked back over at him as he sat beside her on the stairs and she fidgeted a little, “Do you like the wine? It’s cheap but it’s from this local place...I uhm... I have a habit of drinking a little too much.” Her weak smile turned sheepish. Why was she telling him that? she wondered, the mentally scolded herself, alcoholism was not appropriate banter! When he explained his goggles though she looked a little intrigued, and when he was done explaining all she said was, “Well, they don’t put me off... Could I uhm...try them on?” It felt like a silly question but she’d never seen anything like them, and such a contraption was fascinating to a girl who spent her days (and most nights) making coffins and digging graves to throw them in. Her eyes fell down to Hugo when he was mentioned, poking the dog again with her staff which he pointedly ignored, “That friend? That ugly dog? Uuuugly.” She used a soft voice though, reserved for teasing Hugo. She smiled as the dog merely lifted its head and wrinkled its nose at the insult then turned his back to her with a heavy sigh as if pouting. She silent for an unnatural stretch though, opening her mouth to explain, closing it, then opening it again, “...He’s the reason my parents dug up my grave. I don’t know if he heard me screaming way underground or if he’s like.. my guardian angel or something.” Her eyes were fond though, relaxing a bit, looking over, at his face but never ever into his eyes. “It’s not like my parents buried me on purpose- it’s hard to explain... I got kicked by a horse and was dead for two years....then I woke up all ugly and red-eyes and stuff...” She shrugged a little as if it was no big deal to mention being resurrected by the dead. The wine found its way to her mouth and she pulled the cork out with her teeth, making a little pop and then spitting it into the dirt before he pressed it to her lips and started to drink...and drink...and drink... and finally when she set the bottle down it was already half empty. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and, wishing to continue the conversation she asked, “So do you have like.. a wife and kids and stuff? Oh- and being an engineer, what kinds of things do you make? It must be fun, making... you know, new things. I just make the same thing every single day.” She blinked then, remembering, “Oh, I forgot, did you want to see some?” She glanced to her work area and took another shockingly long swig from her bottle of red. |
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| Alexandros | Nov 16 2011, 01:49 AM Post #8 |
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"Hmm..Cricket. The wine's good. I've not visited Eldahar since...I was eleven I think. Haven't had much of a chance to look around, my relatives own some land outside of the city, growing olives. What I mean is...I've not had a drink in about a week. Best damned thing I've tasted since I got here, and I tend to drink...well. A lot I suppose." He lifted the bottle with a grin, as in thanks, and took a long drink. "Sure, if you like." He place the bottle down again, uncinching the straps and handing them over, surprisingly weighty in the palm. Two sets of strapping, just in case, and it stopped the wind from tearing them off his face when he was testing the 'Skimmer' too. One of his better creations, like a small lightweight boat that could travel over land with the aid of a good gust of wind behind it, though he was working on creating a power source for it as well. The wind didn't blow all the time, though the country was notorious for it. "You died?" He wasn't sure quite how to believe that, in his experience people didn't just come back to life, and after two years as well? "What was it like, if you don't mind me asking?" He'd heard people preach often enough about gods and the like but though he'd listened attentively enough when he was younger, he found himself to be an atheist. He just couldn't bring himself to believe there were beings who would create several species and not meddle with it. For him, the temptation would be too much. At the mention of having a family of his own, his grip on the bottle tensed, then relaxed again as he forced himself to. Just a harmless question, it wasn't like dealing with her and her incessant prodding. "No...no wife, no children. I fly solo." He stared at his feet a moment, frowning slightly, then shook his head and took another long pull from the bottle. "I spend so much time starting things, never finishing them. Sometimes I wonder I have time to, you know, get out. Live. I guess most men my age are married by now.." He laughed sheepishly, thinking of how he'd spent the last few years dodging and ducking around the question. Awkward meetings with strangers, pressured to establish some sort of tenuous bond, rushed into everything. "Ah but you, you have a kind of engineering all of your own. What you do with wood...that there is notable. It's something that people need, eventually. And you're skilled at it." He smiled wryly, rubbing his chin. Need to shave again. Always need to shave. "Aye I suppose I did come here to take a look, not just impose on you." |
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| Cricket | Nov 16 2011, 02:35 AM Post #9 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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Cricket was surprised by the weight of the goggle-like devises, mentally evaluating them as she moved her hands up and down a moment then elected to place them on over her own mask. She was careful, as if handling glass while she buckled the straps and then looked at him. The contraption gave her the same bug-eyed appearance, wine colored orbs bright as they looked just below his eyes and, finally, a genuine smile came to live on her face even if only briefly. She laughed a little but quickly undid the straps and passed it back, “Those are...neat.” She couldn’t think of a better term but so far those had been the only real source of joy she had experienced. The smile died, though, when he asked her what being dead had felt like. She looked away, over the graveyard which had once been so distant, and had since filled to been nearly in her own front yard. The pause stretched on, her eyebrows furrowed, she looked over finally and said, “Lonely, I guess. I don’t remember much of it.” She shrugged her shoulders a little. She had been faithless since her resurrection so it had obviously not been a very uplifting experience. When he tensed, she held her breath. Was he going to hit her, or something? Had she broken some unspoken rule about asking a man about his wife?? She instantly was concerned by her own social short comings but, upon his relaxing, she felt it much much easier to relax as well. No children and no wife. Well that was surprising for the coffin builder. After all this gentleman seemed so good natured, and he wasn’t harsh on the eyes... She cursed her own wandering thoughts and instead marched on with the conversation, impressed with her own social interactions at the moment. “I guess, but everything I make just gets buried with dirt.” Cricket laughed weakly, a light but sad sound. “I’d love to start something, someday. My whole life is about finishing things.” She mused though her tone lacked bitterness, bringing the bottle back to her mouth and finishing off another quarter. “You’re not imposing!” She protested a little, looking away as she stood, leaning on her walking stick as she moved past the hammock that served as her bead and into the work area, where a little two-foot long coffin was sitting on her work bench. ”I was finishing this when Hugo lost his head.” She told her guest, running her hand over the rabbit fur lining and then spinning again, ambling over to a full size coffin that rested on another large long table. The craftsmanship was exquisite, obviously each item she made having a lot of soul put into it. She had grown quiet, for quiet a large chunk of time before she looked back at him, “Before you said most men your age are married... but I... well...” She bit her bit, articulating her thoughts and then going on, “I disagree. That’s all. I mean unless you’ve been in love there’s no reason to get...” She sort of trailed off and shrugged, moving away from her work space, back into the house but she was quick to return with two more bottles of wine. She thrust one into his hands, regardless of if he’d finished the first. The drink helped her relax, helped her words stop getting stuck in her throat. From the porch Hugo watched with the air of a king, paws neatly folded before he stood and, not content with the idle chit chat he moved behind Alex and nudged the backs of his legs, pushing him forward towards Cricket. She frowned, “Stop it- I don’t know why he’s pestering you so much.” She seemed worried that her guest would suddenly grow angry from the dogs currently rather obnoxious presence. In all honesty this was the first time she’d enjoyed speaking with anyone for a very long time. |
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| Alexandros | Nov 16 2011, 11:14 AM Post #10 |
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One-Liner Wonder
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Alex found himself returning the smile as she tried on his goggles, such joy that he found it quite contagious. She's really quite attractive when she smiles, I wonder why she's so sad? Must be lonely here, just the two of them. Or maybe peaceful. Some people enjoy that kind of solitude. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." Well this is awkward. Alexandros Pholoropoulos, engineer, illuminator, alchemist, tit. He sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose as the silence stretched out, trying to come up with a way to repair the damage. "I never meant to offend...I just...never knew anyone who's been resurrected before. It's quite interesting." As she bought out more wine, he tore off a piece of the bread, forgotten in the conversation and chewed thoughtfully, not really hungry but found himself breaking it into little pieces. Busy hands. They had to have something to do. He stopped himself and rested them on the top of the step instead, smooth with wear under his calloused palms. He might as well sit on them soon or he'd start fidgeting again. "I don't know how you do it. To just...put so much love, time, effort, into one, and then have to bury it, never see it again. You must be a strong person. I think I'd flip if someone told me I had to do that." He stood and walked over to admire her handiwork on the coffins, running a palm across the smooth wood and soft rabbit fur, noting the near seamless joins and walking around them with inquisitive eyes. A nudge at the back of his legs made him jump, and half turning he chuckled, ruffling the creature's fur lightly. "No, I think you're right. There was a woman, once, but none since that I've really..." he frowned, shrugged. It didn't really matter any more. That was a good five years gone and she was married now, had her own family. "My mother pressures me to marry, carry on the family and such. Drives me crazy, though I know she means well. She doesn't see it as more than romantic frivolity though. Love I mean. I don't quite...fit...with the rest of the nobility. And she's always trying to make me conform to that sort of..stereotype." He circled the coffins again, peering into the larger, a little sad for the smaller. That a child so young would pass so early. At least, that was his assumption, he'd not heard of people commissioning coffins for their beloved family pets. He fidgeted with the goggles dangling around his neck now, glancing over at Cricket. "Your craftsmanship really is quite superior to anything I've ever seen before. Not that I've seen a lot of coffins but well, you know...I'm sure I don't need to tell you how good you are." At least mother's side of the family will be pleased that grandfather has a suitable coffin. And then there's the matter of getting one for me. She'll think I'm a nutjob. Oh well. |
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| Cricket | Nov 16 2011, 09:49 PM Post #11 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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“I’m not offended.” Cricket said quickly, looking a bit perplexed by the apology, “I was just thinking! Don’t worry about it, Alexandros.” She said his name for the very first time, the syllables spoked softly but with a small smile that meant she liked the way it rolled off her tongue. In the workshop the smile left her lips but not her eyes as she watched him examine her handiwork. Upon his comments on the love she wasted on the boxes, she just tilted her head and looked back at the graveyard thoughtfully. “I guess I’m just used to how it feels. Sometimes, when I build, I forget to sleep and eat. I’m just so focused... maybe that’s what love is. ” She said thoughtfully, eyebrows furrowed a bit. Hugo seemed frustrated and he rose up, putting his paws on the workbench with ease and just staring at Alexandros with those piercing blue eyes, his tongue lulled out of his mouth in a pant, but he continued to gawk as if trying to tell the engineer something important. Cricket went on though, turning back to Alexandros after he had continued to speak bluntly, “If there was a woman how come you didn’t marry her/?” It was an innocent question followed by a wide eyed slightly panicked, “I-it’s none of my business, I was just wondering- sorry...” Still in response to the rest of what he said she couldn’t help but smile a little again- hell, for an social outcast today was probably the most she’d laughed and smiled in quite some time. “I don’t fit in much at all. I think I used to as a child, but.. after I came back all my friends were... well you know, scared, I guess.” She murmured, leaning against the work bench, reaching up and batting at the scythe blade which dangle rather dangerously from the ceiling of the otherwise open area. Hugo appeared to have given up on staring at Alexandros for now, walking away with ease. Cricket watched him go and looked over, “Do I scare you?” Despite her reputation, Cricket rarely heard praise for her life’s work. After all, most people only came to see her after a loved one died, so their cheerless moods were acceptable. It was nice though, having someone in her presence who showed no signs of grief. She ran her hand over the edge of the coffin, sanded smooth. “I don’t need told, but... it is nice to hear. The living rarely voice their appreciation but I don’t really blame them.” She shook her head a little and shut the lid on the smaller one. She adjusted her mask a bit, fidgeting with the strings that laced from her fingerless work gloves up to her elbows. Clouds were rolling in lazily, rumbling in the distance making her turn her head and sigh. If an autumn downpour was in order she could only hope the graves she’d dug would remain in tact and useable. “So did you need to purchase one, or just going to keep me in mind for when your mother finally nags you to death?” She found it in herself to tease her new acquaintance, looking up at his face and finally meeting his eyes. (I’m nixing the ability that was mentioned in previous posts). Hers were wine colored, her head tilted when she looked at him, reaching up to readjust her mask again. “It’s going to rain.” The comment was as sudden as her sudden sharp turn away from him, crossing the porch with three stumbling steps and picking her staff back up, not looking back at Alexandros the the time being. She started to organize her jars of nails, straightening everything up in an effort to keep her hands busy and her mind in line. Her constant sudden conversation was obvious evidence that she didn’t have a lot of social interactions, but she was definitely relaxing more the more they spoke. The wind was picking up with the oncoming storm, it tugged as their clothes as it chased its way around the house. Thunder rumbled again, still a ways away. Edited by Cricket, Nov 16 2011, 09:49 PM.
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| Alexandros | Nov 16 2011, 10:12 PM Post #12 |
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Alex smiled a little at the mention of not sleeping or eating, focusing so hard on completion of a single thing. He knew that only too well, holing himself up for days with his creations until the maids panicked and had the butler try to hammer down the door. Nothing serious had ever come of it, he'd only passed out once before and then he'd gotten up and opened the door before they started splintering it with the axe anyway. "Maybe it is." He glanced down at the large hound, staring at him imploringly. It seemed to want something but he didn't know what, and after a moment he gave up, turning his back on the engineer and leaving him there. Shrugging to himself, he looked up again at the woman, noting how they were almost of a height, though she never seemed to meet his eye, always letting her gaze slide just so that they never met. Curious. "Oh I asked her. Got down on one knee and everything. She wouldn't have me though, said I had no room for love in my life, spent too much time locked away. She wanted me to choose, in the end, and I did...but it still wasn't enough." He said the last with a tinge of bitterness, raising the bottle to his lips and finally emptying it. He'd given up engineering for a time for her, and in the end she'd still thrown it back at him, saying how he wasn't himself without it, wasn't whole. Either way he'd completely sunk that boat when he'd fallen into bed with someone else, piss drunk and she'd walked in on them. Not much he could do about then, or now. Past was past. "No...I'm not scared of you. Should I be?" He tried to catch her gaze again, and was eluded cunningly, one eyebrow quirking slightly. This is turning into some sort of game...what is it that she's afraid of showing me in her eyes, or is she afraid of seeing something in mine? I'm not that intimidating am I? Catching the teasing tone, he flicked his eyes back towards her and finally locked gazes, the barest twinkle of amusement and perhaps invitation hinting in the depths of his own, until she snapped back again, breaking the frail second. "Ah, yeah. One for me." He chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I guess you could say I'm planning for the future." He glanced up, clouds rolling in, grumbling. Unexpected. And here he hadn't bought a coat, thinking it was going to stay warm today, it being a desert and all. Well, that showed him. The touch of cold air raised gooseflesh on his bare bronzed arms and shoulders, and he rubbed idly at them in an effort to stop the sensation. "More than just rain by the looks." |
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| Cricket | Nov 16 2011, 11:15 PM Post #13 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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Cricket’s brow furrowed as he described the failed proposal, but she said nothing for now about it. Perhaps this was one of those things she would never understand, but she continued to puzzle it even as he responded to her question with one of his own. “I don’t know.” She said honestly brushing her black bangs away from her eyes, fingertips dragging down over the leather that hid her disfigured face. “You probably would be if you saw how ugly I am.” She laughed, but this time the action held no warm mirth, just cold amusement at her own expense. It was true though, she assumed that her appearance more than her work was the cause of the lack of suitors she faced. In town the women already treated her like an old maid- a fact that, although unfair would probably prove true. After all, her father had found a wife, there was no other real reason others would be repulsed. She settled in to that pause, staring off and the gray clouds. Even the desert recieved a storm or two, after all if it didn’t there would be no life. She was accustomed to the sudden horrible downpours followed by the long stretches of drought. When he stated his order though, she turned more slowly, sort staring at the area beneath his eyes as if in disbelief, “You want me to make one for you?...” When he explained himself her smile found its way back to her lips and she asked, “Do you want to see the one I made for myself?” After all, if he was planning for the future, perhaps he would be interested in seeing the way she’d planned for her own inevitable death (this time she hoped she would stay dead ). As the thunder grew closer lightening split the sky and she frowned a bit, “You can stay here, it’s going to be a storm but sometimes they’re brief.” Even as she spoke the first of many drops fell with a ‘plop’ onto the roof that hung out over the deck she basically lived on. His goose flesh did not escape her gaze though and he scurried away without warning away, pausing as if to gather her courage before she ventured back into the house and returned with a thick wool blanket. It was tattered, obviously well used but no doubt very warm. She stepped in front of him and swung it in a wide arc so she could wrap it around his shoulders, “There, better?” The wind pushed her bangs out of her face as she looked at his face again. “That woman, I mean... the one you said before... “ She turned and knelt, pulling a coffin from where it was stored, neatly wrapped with a large old blanket for protection. She tugged the ancient cloth off to show the elegantly carved coffin. She seemed to have thought better of what she’d been going to say as the silence lingered. Her box was red wood polished to a shine, little half-finished carvings of ivy trailing around the lid. She didn’t open it though, just ran her hand over the smooth surface. The storm was growing in intensity, though so far the drops only fell so fast as a light drizzle. Edited by Cricket, Nov 16 2011, 11:16 PM.
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| Alexandros | Nov 16 2011, 11:54 PM Post #14 |
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He frowned as she jested about her appearance, though not from any anger, more thoughtfulness. He supposed she meant whatever she was hiding under her mask, and expected that for her, it was why she was so unused to this social interaction, though she was polite enough, she was distant, though he got the impression that his presence was not wholly unwelcome, just...unused to. He studied her from where he was, head tilted slightly, his braid beginning to shift and whip as the wind grabbed it and caught at it, loose hair blowing about his head. "You're not ugly. Not from where I'm standing at any rate." Granted he hadn't seen what she was hiding, but how bad could it be? After some of the things he'd seen in the war, and even before that, accidents, things gone horribly wrong... For a moment he felt trapped in an old memory, the destruction of the sabotaged siege weapon as the lashings, cut thin to breaking point, snapped, whipping back and slicing through flesh, the shrieks as wood splintered, metal fragmented. That more than the weather, made his blood run cold. What about the time I told that guy to light a night flower and that was all? He lost most of his lower arm... He wasn't proud of the things he'd done, but then, he'd never claimed to be a good person. When war calls you do what you have to to survive. Only that last one wasn't. And now he was designing, creating things that would be used for the slaughter of more people. Best not to think on the morals of it. That train of thought tended to crash right into his muse and will to work. "You already made one for yourself?" He frowned a little as she walked inside, thinking that she was going to fetch the coffin, and surprised when she returned with a blanket, more so when she cast it about his shoulders. Smiling gratitude he thanked her, watching as she pulled the coffin out, and before he thought the question was out of his mouth as he swiveled looking around. "How come you stay out here? Don't you get cold when you get weather like this?" A touch concerned, he let his gaze flit back to her, relaxed and at ease, wondering if she shouldn't be the one using the blanket as the ever-growing wind whistled around them, followed by a particularly ominous growl of thunder and the patter of rain. That woman. Arrianne, with her soft flame colored hair hanging in curls and her enticing green eyes, full of so much color, so much life. Always teasing but never letting him catch her. He realized a slight bitter twist had appeared on his face, and quickly smoothed the expression. "What about her?" I could say a hundred things about her and not grow tired. Or could have. I'm not sure how I feel about her anymore. Jealous, I think, when I see her sometimes in town. But at the same time, not. Glad that she's found someone else. One day I might find the same happiness, when I'm not trying to invent ways to blow people to pieces. That last thought with a touch of sourness again. He really didn't want to think on the morals of his actions. He was simply doing what he enjoyed, and the empress put the things he made to use. So at least it wasn't wasted. Even if he felt that the way he was right now might be wasting much of his life, pissing it away on drink and the occasional partner to bed, or stuffing himself in his rooms to tinker on one tiny mechanism for days at a time for the barest improvement. No, he didn't want to think about it. His mother had commented only a few days ago how wan he had been looking, the dark circles under his eyes barely abated now from the valerian root, which he was taking in greater doses all the time. But when you couldn't find that inner peace, that let you sleep at night, what else could you do but immerse yourself in something. Don't think about it. He blinked, realized he'd been staring at the top of the coffin, the engraved ivy, tearing himself from his reverie. Simple, yet elegant. "Do you ever wonder if someone might dig it up in years to come and call it an artifact, a beautiful crafted relic from a lost age?" He grinned sheepishly. "I hope one day the things I make might be remembered. I think it'd be the same with your coffins." |
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| Cricket | Nov 17 2011, 01:33 AM Post #15 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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He didn’t think she was ugly? The mere idea of not being found repulsive caused a spark in Cricket’s eyes, some bright hopeful glimmer that lingered before it died. He had only just met her, after all, perhaps his opinion would change after awhile longer. After all, now he was a captive to her quaint home until the storm passed. The question as to her already making her own coffin made her nod her head, “I get bored. When there’s no work, there’s nothing to do.” And no human to talk to.
After the retrieval of the blanket Cricket looked up from where she had crouched, frowning a bit at his question and looking at the door as if it were obviously booby trapped. It took a moment before she seemed willing to answer, “I don’t like being all closed up. It reminds me of waking up in a coffin- it feels too tight, and I can’t breath...I go inside sometimes.” There was a stretch of silence and she added to her list of reasons why, “It feels more lonely in the house than outside of it.” Still she stood and draped the blanket back over the coffin while she listened to him go on. The wind only got worse, tousling her black hair and pulling at her clothes. Once she was satisfied with the way she had stowed the work of art she grabbed the edge of the bench and used it to heave herself up, picking her staff from where she’d left it and leaning on it heavily, gimping her way to the front door. Hugo too seemed ready to give in as the rain fell harder, pausing only to shake his fur and then trotting inside. He turned in the doorway, barring it from Aexandros for a moment and the other would have the rare pleasure of hearing a growling voice interrupt his thoughts, <Don’t close the door behind you.> The dog turned then, padding inside. Past the kitchen she had lead him into before there was a less-dusty room with a few chairs and an old stone fireplace. Cricket’s staff was forgotten on the floor again, her focus on carrying an arm full of wood from one side of the room to the other. She limped heavily without the aid of the stick, dragging the injured foot across the floor and then almost falling over as she tossed the pieces into the grate. It wasn’t that she was particularly proud, more the idea of asking for help had never popped into her mind. She sat down on the heart with a thud and set to lighting the fire with her flint. It took a few tries but she got it and watched as the little sparks slowly began to grow into a cheery little fire. She had remained silent for all the minutes this process took. There was a window on the other side of the room that she had left wide open. Her gaze was a little shifty, uncomfortable but she pulled her knees to her chest. Oddly enough, it wasn’t so bad with another person there. Her heart still fluttered a bit, the air felt tight, but the fire was warm and relaxing and finally she found it in herself. “She just seems horrible. She made you change to prove yourself- which isn’t fair at all, she should have just outright said no if she didn’t like all of you.” Cricket voiced her opinion while Hugo settled at her feet, one eye open, watching the stranger still. “Why did you love her?” As if it were an after thought the death-maiden reflected on what he’d said about being remembered, all while she walked away from the fire to the kitchen. “Maybe that will happen...but...I don’t think so. People don’t remember who made a coffin, people remember was was buried in it.” She disappeared without word, as seemed to be her typical state, and returned with her arms full, limping hard still but she didn’t grimace with the pain. Upon returning to flop down in front of the fire (and patting the place beside her, had he not already decided to occupy the place) She set two tankards down, two [/i]more[/i] bottles of wine, and a variety of spices along with some sugar. The wine found its way into her kettle, as did the spices and sugar before she hung it above the fire. Mulled wine, it was a favorite of hers, though it hadn’t occurred to her to ask him if he cared for it. She was just trying to be a good host. Hugo lifted his head as a very loud clap of thunder rolled overhead and Cricket pulled off her shoes to set them aside. Without those clunky engineer boots on, her feet were surprisingly dainty. She tucked them under herself and said, “How do you think you’ll be remembered?” her head tilted a little. The rain was falling harder now, pounding the the rooftop. Outside the little graves she’d dug had filled with water, but her mind was far away from that task at the moment. “When I die, I probably wont even get to use my coffin. Hugo here will probably get hungry and eat my corpse.” She poured the warm spiced wine into the two tankards then, offering one to Alexandros, but her macabre theory was ended with an innocent request, “Tell me about your job now, the things you make. Tell me...uhm... what they’re for. Tell me why you need your eye thing.” She sort of wantd to try it on again, but would have felt silly asking a second time. |
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| Alexandros | Nov 17 2011, 02:07 PM Post #16 |
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((Ugh damned plugins made my browser crash and I lost my post </3 I'll try my best to rewrite it.)) I guess that would make anyone extremely claustrophobic waking up in a situation like that. He glanced towards the house, understanding what she meant and even a little sympathetic, not that he would allow it to creep onto his face for fear of making her think he was pitying her. Not so, and in his experience being pitied made him angry. "I get like that sometimes after locking myself in the work room, just need to get out, to breathe, and wonder how I manage to stay cramped up in there...when I'm that focused I tend to block it out. Sometimes I think I might die in there one day, not that it's such a terrible thing, to die surrounded by what you love." It wasn't quite the same as what she must feel every time she walked into the house, and he knew it. Following her to the door he stopped, his eyebrows rising in shock and a little awe as the dog barred his way and spoke to him. He'd not had much experience with magical beings, and the interaction intrigued him. Alex considered Morrim fairly boring, sure the cities had their own charm, their own exotic things, enchanting things, and dangers. But it wasn't the same as venturing out into the wilderness, hoping to encounter something strange, wonderful, or terrifying. Something otherworldly. He wondered if the creature could hear each of his thoughts as well, or could taste that curiosity. Alex dropped his hand to his side, halfway to closing the door from habit, and nodded, glancing back over his shoulder at his horse who was sheltering beneath the lip of the porch, grazing on the scraggy grass. He'd seen worse weather before and didn't seem overly bothered by the rain settling into his coat, merely raising his head and snorting in Alex's direction, before completely ignoring him. He took notice of the dust, the abandoned air as he passed through the rooms of the house, soft boots muffling his footsteps as he tread, looking this way and that at rooms layered with fine dust, old tracks, recoated, both human and hound. She was right, it did seem lonely, empty, something forgotten. The cheery little fire she had going on the hearth however diminished that, chasing the chill from their bones and warming the room. Not that he would get too close to it, in case anything on his person might...explode. Or melt. He wasn't carrying anything overly dangerous to his knowledge aside from the usual oddities, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He smiled a little at her observation, tinged faintly with sadness, though only of his own actions on reflection. "I don't think it was her fault so much as my own. If I had seen how much she feared my work back then I might have done something sooner, and she had good reason." He gazed at the fire, forehead wrinkling as he frowned. "I tried to tell her that I usually know what I'm doing...that's only about half true." An odd smile crossed his face, half fond, half irritated. "The thing with engineering is that you never be sure what's going to happen until you test something, and if one of your calculations is even slightly off...well, the results can be a bit disastrous. I nearly killed myself in the process of testing something, and it terrified her. Not the first time either." The smile became rueful and he shrugged, letting the blanket fall around his lap, the warmth now comfortable. "I loved her because she was proud, fiery and argumentative, stubborn...if she was displeased, she'd not hold back voicing it. And she hit me once." He chuckled, rubbing his cheek at the memory. "I've not found another woman like that in a long time, at least, not one that my family approves of. Except my Uncle Zeno, but he doesn't get on with them, we're alike in that regard...it's not that I'm opposed to marrying a noblewoman but I won't be forced into it by my family. And most of them are about as entertaining as a wet sponge." Alex grinned mischievously, unfastening the goggles around his neck and turning them over in his hands, twisting the bar so that the tinted lenses flicked up revealing the glass ones beneath, checking the two smaller lenses to make sure that the metal fixtures weren't wearing too thin or loosely attached. He grimaced, not raising his face as he continued to examine the device, he'd done it before coming out here but it was good to have something to do with his hands while they talked. As she returned he glanced up, then back down at his lap. "You know you should let me help you, I feel all ungentlemanly." He accepted the tankard with a laugh, raising it to her in a toast. "To Hugo, may he never eat your corpse." Taking a long draught he set it down by his feel, feeling the warmth spread through his limbs and the blend of spices settle in his mouth. He'd barely thought at all when it slipped out, a little color flushing into his cheeks and a surprised frown resting on his face. "Remembered as a monster probably, or a 'Complete Bastard'. I..make weapons. For the most part. Things that kill people, in inventive ways. I don't like to think about how people might view me after I'm gone, I just enjoy enjoy building, and try not to think about who's going to be using it later." He quickly raised the tankard again, drinking far too much he knew. "I'm trying to find a way to use magic as an energy source though...that's the reason I came out here, really. I'm building a..ship. Only it can sail on land. Sort of. More over land, if you get my meaning. People think I'm going mental, trying to learn to fly." He thrust the eye-protection device towards her, a languid smile settling on his lips. "Mostly they just protect my eyes from bright light, or help me see tiny details better." He tapped the two additional lenses on their tiny metal arms at the side, flipping them over one of the eye pieces. "I made them after I had an accident, was afraid the next time it happened it would take my eye with it." He traced the scar beneath his eye with his fingertip. "I've had worse than that, but I've always been afraid something would happen to my eyes, or my hands, and I couldn't work anymore." Edited by Alexandros, Nov 17 2011, 02:11 PM.
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| Cricket | Nov 17 2011, 03:47 PM Post #17 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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The idea of a man dying alone in his work room sounded sad, but to Persephone the idea of reaching the end of your life surrounded by what you loved, in the middle of you favorite task - that would be a dream come true. The perk of her own work was that she very well could drop dead straight into a coffin! The thought was amusing but she didn’t share it.
When he explained about his ex-lover, though, she smiled a little. She liked hearing people talk about things of the such. As an empath, she could feel that nostalgia, the sad fondness for the girl he lost. She touched her cheek at the same time as he did, mirroring the motion with odd accuracy but her frown came a few moments after his, listening to him describe the feelings she too experienced. They were both builders, but she envied that his invention, her own monotonous job suddenly seeming incomparable in satisfaction.There was no chance of a casket exploding after all, nothing involving dangerous acids or winding gears. When he went on, talking about his lover again, she felt an unusual weight in her chest. Her eyes fell, but it was Hugo’s odd voice which again spoke to the engineer, offering him an explanation for her emotions mirroring his, <Cricket’s an empath. She’s usin’ you to experience the feelings.> The dog lifted his head, looking at Alexandros as he ‘spoke’ and he tail wagged a little when Cricket reached down and scratched him behind the ears. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. Better than her, even.” The macabre toast made Cricket laughed, falling back into her own feelings and Hugo turned and looked at her. Alexandros couldn’t here what the dog said, but Cricket answered out loud, ruffling up his hair, “You would too eat me. Hungry dogs have no masters.” her eyes lifted up to Alexandros, watching him as he spoke, eyes still positioned low on his face as if that would protect her from any unpleasant premonitions. She was undisturbed by his work though, head tilting when he described what his inventions were used for. So he killed people, in an indirect fashion? “One could say you keep me in business.” She smiled, just trying to cheer Alexandros up a bit, nudging him with her elbow lightly. The conversation went on and her eyes widened, “You want...to fly?” At first it seemed like she might criticize him but what she said was far from that, “You have to build it, so I can go see it.” Her head tilted and she asked, “Have you ever seen these things...uhm..like lights, in the sky. I made a coffin for a knight once and they were going to have something like that at his funeral. They like..explode, I don’t really understand...I didn’t see them, or anything, they might not be real...” She felt like an idiot trying to describe the items but he seemed like he would be able to explain this item which she only knew from word of mouth. She held the goggles up to her eyes again when he explained their purpose, peeking at him from behind them them. They made her bug-eyed as she looked up and their eyes met again. Her smile fell when he described the accident and, due to her magnified eyes, he was able to see the way her pupil’s contracted and she suddenly looked far away. She took the eyewear from her face and turned it over in her hands, biting her lip. She had paled a bit, like she’d seen something terrible, some hideous bone chilling sight. She handed them back to him and said softly, “You need to be careful. It’s hard enough having trouble walking, I can’t imagine losing a hand or an eye... besides, you’d be less dashing!” She laughed a little, just trying to shake off whatever horrible image she had seen. Hugo moved over and nudged at Cricket’s cup, making her blink and then quickly drank from the cup, eyes closing. The more she drank the easier it was to be social, heaving a heavy sigh, looking in the fire and then back at him, “I’m sorry you’re stuck here with me. The storm shouldn’t take too long.” Hugo huffed a bit, as if upset by something and he accused, <You made her feel bad! Things were going so well-!> He growled at Hugo but stopped with another huff when Cricket prodded him with the stick. “Behave!” She accused, and then looked over, asking again “So have you been a lot of places? What’s Morrim like? I’ve always wanted to travel, but I really have no reason to.” |
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| Alexandros | Nov 17 2011, 04:45 PM Post #18 |
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The hound's gruff voice drew his attention to Cricket's face again and he watched with interest as she raised her hand to her cheek mirroring him. "Sorry you had to uh..feel that. I'm usually not so broody." He nodded at her comment, a little tongue tied on what to say, though he'd been chattier than usual with the woman. Most of the time his social interaction was awkward and stilted, when he wasn't drunk at least. Drink always tended to loosen the tongue and bring him out a bit, cheerful nature and all. "I hope so. I'd like to think there's someone for everyone out there." He began to laugh again at her comment about keeping her in business, dark though the subject was, it had a somewhat lighthearted feel to it. "I suppose I do at that. I shouldn't complain, it's not all bad. After all, a sword has a double edge...some might say it's used for killing, others would say it's used for protecting." An infectious smile tugged at the corner of Alex's mouth as she spoke of building his invention. Funny that, because he had, though it was still in the prototype stage, and he had bought it here, though it was something of a secret. He didn't want the Moghul discovering what he was up to, lest he try and get his hands on it as well. He wasn't known for being a particularly gentle man, after the distribution of pieces of the previous ruler of Ashoka to a screaming crowd. Chucking he drained the tankard, setting it down beside them and adopted a more serious expression while rummaging in his pockets. "Sure I've got...a schematic here somewhere...ah." He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, and placed it on the floor in the firelight so she could see, smoothing it out best he could to show the design, like a small lightweight canoe with what appeared to be large sails on either side, and one central. "It's not very big, built to carry two people, maybe three tops. Needs wind though, and that...is what I have to work on, making some kind of..fuel, or force to harness that. I've only been testing it in Morrim so far..." He glanced up at her, tapped the paper over the image. "Maybe you could see it. I need someone to help me test it with more than just myself flying it. I won't promise it's safe, I've only ever used it by myself, and it's had some..repairs recently." he thought back with a wince to how the wind had quite literally snatched it up and refused to let go last time, smashing it right through a tree, or at least, the mainsail, the mast totally splintered and in pieces, though he and the rest of the craft had come through intact.It had fared better than the first one so far. "You can't however, tell anyone about it. I've not even shown this to the empress and if the Moghul found out...I might be in some hot water, or finding I have a pressing appointment with him." Probably at the end of a bunch of armed thugs. He relaxed a little as the conversation moved to what he thought she meant where night flowers, illuminator's tricks, and found himself nodding. They were expensive to get one's hands on, though they weren't particularly so to make, and dangerous besides, but pretty to watch, if you put the right components in. Alex grinned. Dashing, yes, well. He did try. It was nice to know his mixed results had bloomed into a good reaction this time, more often than not he got a slap in the face, but then more often than not he was drunk and made lewd comments by the time he tried it. Alex frowned, raising a hand but dropped it back into his lap, warded off by the growls of Hugo. "Are you alright? You're very pale..." What did I do? Hmm..maybe... "I've been around a bit, mostly in Morrim and Ashoka, sometimes to Soto. I'd like to see Angkar one day, maybe even, if I can, fly across the sea. Be the first to return alive maybe..." He trailed off, bit his lip. She seemed upset by something, and after a moment he shifted, digging in his pockets again and pulling out several small things, talking all the while. "I don't mind staying, I'd only be wandering around Eldahar looking for a good place to drink at, with questionable company no doubt...ah, here we go. This might cheer you up some. Do you have any string I could pinch a little of? Or, twine, something that will burn?" He glanced down at the crumpled schematic. Paper might even do, though it burned much faster, then turned his gaze to the thick glass vial in his hand, filled with what looked like a dark gritty substance. Like dirt. I really should stop carrying dangerous substances, I'm going to get myself killed at this rate. "Won't be much use til after the rain stops, and they show better at night, but it should be visible. They can be used for signals too. Sky lights, Night Flowers, they have a few names." He grinned, and continued to pull out small vials of random substances, a small roll of thick paper, a lump of charcoal... |
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| Cricket | Nov 18 2011, 02:25 AM Post #19 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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“Feel? How did you-” Cricket looked bewildered and embarrassed, eyes a bit wide before she turned them to Hugo. As the dog spoke through private channels of telepathy, she’d been unaware he had spoken to their guest. ”You-! Hugo-” The blush spilled across the bridge of her nose to both of her cheeks, and colored the tops of her ears. “I’m sorry, I just like those heartfelt feelings and I never get them so...” She trailed off, hiding behind her tankard as she gulped down the rest of its contents. She disagreed with Alexandros statement about someone for everyone but said nothing, just shaking her head. There was someone for most everyone at least. Schematics. The word alone brought Cricket a great amount of pleasure though she was unsure why. It just had such a sharp, technical sound. She stared off into space before becoming aware that he had produced a mashed up piece of paper from his pocket. He stretched it out before the fire and she hunched over to peer at it more closely, head tilting. It really did look a bit like a boat! He eyes lit up with amazement, head tilting a little. As he continued though her heart beat faster, eyes widening a little. Okay, so he wouldn’t promise her safety. What was that in comparison to the opportunity to actually fly? She nodded her head quickly and finally parted her lips, “I would be happy to help. I’m sure I’ll be okay...When would we try it?” She smiled a little as she glanced up from the paper to his face. Her head cocked slightly to the side when he mentioned her secrecy and she nodded, adopting a serious look on her features and saying softly, “Of course. Haven’t you ever heard that the dead keep excellent secrets?” Her black bangs fell over the masked side of her face, hiding her eye wile Hugo had wandered away to look out the front door at the now pouring rain. Cricket was quiet as he spoke of her suddenly pale skin, weaving her fingers squeezing her own hand to try and comfort herself. “Don’t worry, I just saw something... it probably wont happen.” She added, but she also refused to elaborate on the images of blood she had seen. She seemed stranded in the state now, gazing off in the distance until her new friend yet again astounded her. At first she peeked from the corners of her eyes, but then turned her head fully when he made the request for string. Hugo appeared again, dropping a ball of twine in Alexandros lap and then telling the engineer privately as he trotted away, nails click-click-clicking on the floor, <Make her smile again.> Indeed Cricket was fascinated now, reaching to pick up the vial of gritty blackness to visually explore it more closely. When he explained himself her head shot up and she looked rather excited, “You know how to make them??” She brought her knees up to her chest to watch him work. Thunder rolled loudly outside, and the fire crackled in response. She rested her chin in her palm but she was giving him her undivided attention. Her eyes wandered away from his task and up to his face, but quickly looked back down to watch him make the- what were they called? Night Flower? “But we can use it when the rain stops? You’ll show me?” Her enthusiasm was almost childish though lacked any sot of pushy obnoxious edge. The corners of her mouth twitched, almost turning up in a smile bit not quite. She scooted a bit closer to have a better view of not only the process by all the random vials he had produced from the pockets on his person, the same way she could so readily retrieve coffin nails from her own pockets. Edited by Cricket, Nov 18 2011, 01:58 PM.
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| Alexandros | Nov 18 2011, 04:45 PM Post #20 |
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"Quite alright. I just rather that you'd have picked up on something more..upbeat." So Hugo can talk, but it's singular, as she couldn't hear that last part. That's interesting...that's very interesting... Glancing back at the crumpled design he attempted to smooth it again, without success. "I'm here for a week, though I can extend that, I've nothing seriously pressing back home to get to and the parts I came for aren't due for another two on top of that. I'm sure we can work it around your coffins." The chance to have someone else fly with him made his stomach flutter with nerves, there were so many risks involved and if he botched it up then she could end up getting hurt. In which case he'd have to be extra careful. Of course he could simply try fixing boxes and various equipment to try to base a human weight on to his own but it wasn't the same, and she certainly looked like she could use something uplifting, something to bring back that smile. Though his concern grew a little when she said she'd seen something, his will to make her smile again was reinforced when Hugo growled into his mind once more, near commanding him to do so, and his gaze flicked to Cricket in her excitement, rather infectious, bringing him to chuckle. "Yes. They're not so hard to make, I can show you. Thank you, Hugo." He picked up the ball of string and set it beside the things that had been in his pockets, pointing to them and listing what they were, and what he was going to do with them. Pointing at the vial she held, he spoke, "That's a mixture of saltpeter, sulphur and charcoal. It's highly explosive when near flame and causes the bang. Otherwise known as blasting powder. This is just thick paper, we can use it to make the shell. The string is for the fuse, we have to light it from a distance...unless we're going to lose an arm." He pointed at each as he spoke, then moved to the other smaller vials and took out a thin bladed knife, unsheathing it as he did so. "I have a few things here we can use, but not the full range..." He picked up the two small vials and gave them a shake, the salts inside glistening in the firelight. "This is Barium chloride, it'll make the light green. For gods sake don't eat it, it's very poisonous. And this one is strontium carbonate. It's relatively safe, will make the light bright red, and we usually use it for flares...like, signals." He shook the greyish powder lightly then set it back down, being a little more careful with the stony colored barium. Tearing off a piece of the paper from the roll he began making it into a narrow cone, using his thumb to make a small tear at the bottom as a catch to stop it from unraveling. "This is potentially unsafe, I'll try not to damage anything you own though." He picked up the goggles left on the floor and put them on, cinching the straps tight and flicking one of the magnifying lenses down as he started boring a tight hole into a flattish cork he'd produced from his pocket with the tip of the knife. "Going to use this to plug the bottom, we'll need the hole to put the fuse in though." Once the hole was made he cut off a length of twine about as long as his hand, then shortened it a little and threaded it into the cork, pulling it through the other side with short tugging motions, as it was tightly jammed in. "Care to do the honors?" He offered her the little cone point down, motioning at the large vial of blasting powder with a grin. "So, which color do you want? We can do red, green, or golden if we put more charcoal in it. Hmm..I don't think I've made one with more than one color before. Care to try it? We can set it off so long as the shell doesn't get wet, the powder won't light if it's a soggy mush." He twirled the cork on its string between his hands, still grinning at the prospect of blowing it up. |
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| Cricket | Nov 18 2011, 06:04 PM Post #21 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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“I don’t sleep much, so you don’t need to worry about my schedule. I can build just was well at night as I do during the day.” She was excited at the prospect of getting to help him test one of his experiments, especially an invention as unbelievable as a flying ship! It gave her a strange empty, fluttery feeling in her stomach. It was a sensation she hadn’t really felt before, but she didn’t have long to question it as it only intensified, heart fluttering. Hugo wagged his tail and nodded curtly when he was thanked, but said nothing. just offering a short sharp yip before he laid down in front them so that the fire could warm his coarse coat. He folded his huge paws neatly, chin daintily resting on them so that his back was to them, as if bored. His tail wagged though, when Cricket made an excited little “Oh!” As the blasting powder was explained. She turned it over in her hands, head tilting a bit before she set it down gently. “I definitely don’t want to lose an arm!” The mere thought of it made her worry for a moment, less a hand for her would mean less a job. No income would be followed quickly by no food. Still, she had faith in Alexandros abilities, and for some reason or another, she trusted him. Her head tilted a bit, fascinated as he showed her the different elements and explained a little about them. “Never ever eat Barium Chloride, got it.” She smiled a bit, wine colored eyes the brightest he’d seen them. “Why do they cost so much if they’re so easy to make? Do most people just not know that?” Her excitement grew though, looking slightly nervous as she reached one gloved hand out, warm rough fingertips brushing against his hand as she took the cone and then looked at the jar of gritty black powder like it might talk to her. “Help me.” She insisted. She didn’t exactly try new things often. especially new things that exploded, so she was apprehensive about messing up even such a simple task. Still she was obviously enjoying herself, smile widening when he asked as to her color preference and she just agreed with him, “I think we should try two colors at once.” Her hair fell back in her face, hands too busy with the explosive to push the rogue strands back she spoke “Still, I’m sure the rain wont last too long...” Uncharacteristically impatient with the weather, she glanced out the window across from them, craning her neck a bit. Behind her the fire had died down a bit, needing more fuel and a good stoking. The still-open window was illuminated briefly by a nearby strike of lightening, followed by an alarmingly loud roar of thunder. He made her tense and lean back, startled. She didn’t so much jump as she did shrink back, drying her knees up a bit closer though she was very careful to no damage the fire work or spill any of the materials he had laid out for them. Hugo stood once more, retrieving a log and dropping it on the hearth, nudging it closer to the fire pointedly with his nose. He sat on his haunches once Cricket fed the fire, looking at the explosive with his oddly intelligent eyes. <That kills people?> His nose twitched, scenting the object while Cricket shivered but did not stand to go get her caplet, too busy being intrigued. The silence felt long though it was not overly heavy or oppressive. Easy to bear and even easier to break as Cricket found some words, “Did the rain bother you when you where a child? It’s always bothered me before. I suppose because I don’t experience it very often.” She seemed to want to say something else, opening her mouth then closing it, opening it again, a bit like a fish gasping for air before she finally just said, “Today it doesn’t bother me.” Already the worst seemed over, the sky still rather dark for midday but the rain was slowly starting to let up. |
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| Alexandros | Nov 18 2011, 07:11 PM Post #22 |
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"Ignorance I guess, the materials aren't that costly really. I've not met many people who can make them though. Maybe it'll catch on eventually." I wouldn't want to lose an arm either... For a moment his expression grew troubled as he thought back on the man holding the plain wooden shell in one hand at arms length, the bewildered expression on his face. Shaking his head he reached out, cupping Cricket's hand that held the cone and prising the stopper off the vial of blasting powder before pressing it gently into her hand and guiding her to pour it into the paper until it was a little over half full, only a little distracted by the thought of how cold her small hands in his were. "There you go, you did it! We'll make an illuminator of you yet! Now, let's add some color shall we?" He released her hands, taking the blasting powder and stopping it up again, and on seeing her look added, "Oh don't worry, it's not liable to go bang unless we threw it in the fire." His fingers closed around the glass vial of strontium and pulled the stopper out, handing it to Cricket, then did the same a little more carefully with the Barium, holding onto it for now. "Add a little of that, not too much though or there'll be no room for the other color." Usually he was meant to measure out each thing to a precise amount but that never happened when you were on the fly and he'd made enough messing around with them to know when too much gunpowder would blow you sky high. They were only making a small one, and were probably mostly safe. As the flash illuminated the room in stark blue-white light, he reached out, catching her wrist to steady her and smiling as the thunder hit. "Storms frighten you?" He released her hand when she seemed alright, and glanced to Hugo, giving a subtle nod. Most people don't realize they're more dangerous than pretty lights. The main ingredient is a powerful explosive. I have..used it for such a fashion. Not that he was particularly proud of it, it was quite a messy way to go. Didn't leave much to bury at any rate. "Not so much the rain. When I was a little boy, I used to think every storm was a Stormdog coming to get me and crunch me up in his lightning-jaws." He smiled a little at the thought, hiding under the blankets from leering shadows stretched over the walls, sharp and bright with each crack of thunder, each flicker of ethereal light. "It tends to rain a fair bit where I'm from, sometimes I still sit by the window and watch it hitting the glass. It's strange but I always find myself searching the skies, waiting for something. Maybe I'll stop waiting and start searching, once I learn to fly." It's a whole other world up there, with so many possibilities. |
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| Cricket | Nov 18 2011, 08:13 PM Post #23 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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Cricket didn’t pull away when he held her hands in his own, thankful for the guidance as the jar of black powder was tipped and she flinched, as if worried it would explode upon falling into the paper cone. She was obviously pleased with it didn’t, perking up a bit and blushing a little, cracking a smile at his comment and looking down shyly. She felt foolish at needing so much direction with the simple tasks. Her uncertain look returned, however, when she was given the strontium, looking at it and then at Alexandros, frowning anxiously but she tilted it into the paper, adding just enough, if not a smidgeon too little. She held it back out to him, feeling a bit more confident now she add the other element with the same caution. When she finished, her eyes found his again, something strange about his laid back, good natured ability that was making it progressively easier to not only tolerate being near another person, but to enjoy it. His hand on her wrist was startling though, she stared down at it in surprise but her brow didn’t furrow until it withdrew. Upon such a quick motion on the visitors behalf Hugo had turned his head, ears back, but relaxed again soon enough, not even bothering to growl now. Alexandros was proving himself completely harmless to the beast. Which was a good thing, since the engineer had just mentioned not wanting to lose his arm... She held the cone out to him with both hands, wanting him to put the stopper in it and feeling a bite proud at having done some of the assembling even with help. After her removed it from her grasp, her hand found the strings that laced her gloves, pulling the knot loose and then then unwinding the strand from around her arm, loosing it a bit before she pit the material of the middle finger and pulled her arm out of it. She did the same with the other glove- not sure why, perhaps just to keep her hands busy? She didn’t dwell on it, rather, she took to explaining, “It does scare me.” In all honest, were this your average lonesome day, She would be huddled in a blanket under the front porch, arms wrapped tightly around Hugo. Were she not so self conscious about this immature action, she would probably be hugging the mutt at that moment. She had been able to repress her feelings before, but the proximity of the lightening had rattled her nerves. “The worst of the storm is probably over...” at least, she hoped. Hugo probably knew this, his icy eyes lingering on her but rather than humoring her obvious discomfort he stood and walked away, out the open front door to sleep under the porch. Her heart fell a little and instead, as calmly as she could she pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them and resting her chin on one as she listened to Alexandros speak of his own feelings on the subject “Storm-dog?” She looked curious as to the nature of this terrible though obviously imaginary beast. Still as he went on she heard the rain let up a little more, starting to relax only to tense as thunder rolled again, more distant this time. “I-I wonder what you’re looking for. In the sky, I mean...” She shivered a bit, curling her toes up a bit but going on, “I hope you’ll take me flying with you, someday... but only when the skies are clear.” The rain was letting up a bit more, much to her relief though she seemed unable to relax. Out the window, on the horizon, there was at least a sliver of blue sky to give her hope. her voice shook as she went on in a soft murmur, giving away the discomfort she was still trying to shake. “My mom used to play the piano when it rained. I’d hide under the bench and wait for it to be over... Heh, I-I haven’t thought about the piano...I wonder h-how much disrepair it’s in.” She leaned over, glancing at the door but made no move to walk towards it. That room had no window, it felt small and, like the rest of the house, lonely. |
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| Alexandros | Nov 18 2011, 09:07 PM Post #24 |
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Alex smiled, taking the cone from her and fixing the stopper in loosely, shaking it so the components mixed, the removing the stopper again he crushed a little charcoal in his hand and sprinkled it into the top, squeezing the cork back in tightly. It would burn first and give it the trail of golden sparks. Or at least he hoped so, and that it didn't simply explode as soon as the fuse worked its way up that far. He placed it carefully onto the wooden floor, tucking the vials and sheathing the knife, all back into his pockets again. Sitting back he watched Cricket, clearly uncomfortable with the storm, and Hugo padding easily out the door without so much as a backward glance. "Yeah. I'd heard somewhere that they came out and chased ships across the sea, the clouds would boil, flickering with green light and take on the form of a giant beast, bursting out of them and begin snarling..." He shuddered at the thought. Made up or not he certainly didn't want to encounter one out on his own, let alone in flight. It would probably give chase and swallow the little craft whole. "Fancy tales, but I was young, wasn't scared of goblins, or monsters under the bed...but something so far fetched..." He chuckled, resting his hands on his knees. "I don't much fancy flying through a storm, I've seen what they can do to ships, to be caught up there dancing in the lightning...dangerous, and exhilarating but if the wind is strong as it is down here sometimes, up there must be like trying to wrestle a giant. Or a Stormdog." He jested gently. "And I'd welcome the company. It seems a lonely place for one man, too big for just one anyway." Noticing her discomfort growing he took her hand in his again and gave a gentle squeeze. "You have a piano? If it still works, I could play for you. Maybe even fix it if it doesn't." He got awkwardly to his feet, helping her up, more pulled by the hands than anything, then stooped to scoop up the little incendiary and slipped it into his pocket, still holding her hand. Pushing his goggles up to his crown again and forcing his dark hair in all different random angles, he offered his lopsided smile at Cricket. "So, let's go find this piano and we can have a gander at it eh?" |
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| Cricket | Nov 18 2011, 10:05 PM Post #25 |
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if love is a labor I'll slave 'til the end
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Great dogs formed of boiling cloud that chased the ships across the sea? The tale was quite fanciful- far fetched of course, but when she closed her eyes a moment she could almost see some huge mongrel bounding after an unfortunate ship, no doubt already being tossed too and fro by huge waves. Cricket had never seen the ocean, but she had seen pictures in the books she occasionally thumbed through when she dared brave the crowds of city.
Even more interesting was the idea of trying to outfly one. Were she not already in such a state the idea alone probably would’ve had her back to grinning like a fool, but she just nodded, mouth an emotionless line before the ends turned up in a weak little smile when he spoke of her flying with him. She squeezed her legs a bit closer to her chest with one arm, the other resting beside her on the warm heart. The wind pulled at the sign in front of her house, jostling it so one hinge came loose, thought the rain was still too loud for either of them to hear it. Her eyes widened a little in surprise when she felt his hand wrap around hers and she turned, looking at her hand in his and he eyebrows furrowed a bit but she squeezed his hand back. Her palms and fingers were rough from her profession, a though which definitely crossed her mind, eyes traveling up to look at his face and all she really could think to say was “Sorry...” She hadn’t held someones hand for seven years, at least. When he half hauled her up, she stumbled a bit, leaning on him a little before she got her footing. She had expected him to let go, but was surprised when he kept his grip. She looked down at their hands again, face reddening a little bit before she looked up at his face, swaying a bit having to lean on him again to keep her balance. She could reach out and get her staff of course, but her dominant hand was captive, and she decided, despite all her uncertainty, she’d rather leave her hand where it was. Cricket lead him closer, leaning a bit against him, approaching the door she eyed it a moment, peering through the crack and using the toes of her bad leg to sort of nudge it the rest of the way open. Spider web unfurled, floating slowly to the floor. Inside there was a thick lair of dust on everything, including the floor. A small bed in the corner had no doubt belonged to a Cricket in her youth. There were no toys, just a small chest covered in childish little designs, scratched clumsily in with the edge of a knife. Spinner webs decorated the corners and, there against the far wall in the widely empty room, was a piano. It seemed fully intact, even upon closer inspection though Cricket did not budge from where she’d nudged the door ajar. Her eyes traced her old bedroom, it was dark, window-less and somewhat small. Her grip on his hand tightened a little before she looked at the floor and shook her head, “I...can’t go in...” She glanced up at his face, “But I’ll stay here, in the doorway.” Inside the piano was actually in fair condition, though it was badly in need of tuning. It had cost the previous owners a pretty penny. The storm wasn’t so loud in the room, too, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to pass that threshold, so instead she asked, “What songs do you know, Alexandros?” |
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