| Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit. Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own. In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins. There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. Create a character now! If you're already a member, you can log into your account below: |
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| [P] Incomplete; Marion | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Tue Nov 21, 2017 6:38 am (272 Views) | |
| Tinker | Tue Nov 21, 2017 6:38 am Post #1 |
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The bell tolled midnight, sound rolling over the city to signal the end of the "honest" work day for the populace. When the Clerks were fast asleep and the Sheriffs put on their boots. The short door opened in the rear of the clocktower, a small figure dressed in a cloak of potato sack burlap. It looked both ways, stuffing mechanical hands into small sewn pockets covering the inside of the cloak. Strolling casually down the alleys of Balefire, the figure scurried along, ducking the glow of wandering lanterns. Crouching beside barrels, casually strolling by open streets, and sprinting down shadowed ways, it made quick work through the city despite short legs and several close calls and an ornery stray cat. Poking at the tear in its cloak with whispered grumbling, the figure pulled a folded scrap of parchment out and scratched at its hooded head. Chittering, a snapping and popping akin to a fresh fire, it flicked a finger against the paper. It turned the paper once clockwise, hung its shoulders, and turned around, sprinting off in the opposite direction. Near an hour later it stood in front of the boarded-up window of a mechanist's shop. Dipping a hand into a pocket, it emerged with a small palm-sized device. Tapping on its shell with a metal finger, the device spurred to life, legs scrambling. Placing it on the door's handle a little overhead, the tiny golem scurried up and opened a pair of arms into a small, adaptive set of locksmith's tools. The door clicked open. Snatching the smaller golem, it stuffed it messily back into a pocket and slipped in. There was little enough left in the shop's inventory. The lock was standard, having been replaced several times by the landlord after several break-ins. All of the devices were gone, the parts ransacked for anything resembling valuable metals and stones, and piles of dirty blankets showed where squatters had been evicted. The short golem whipped the rug back, pulling out a small knife. It stabbed it into the knot, pulling the corklike piece out. Probing the knothole, a click and pop of the trapdoor showed its success. Chittering happily, it threw open the trapdoor roughly, knocking over a stack of scrap wood. Slipping down the ladder, the golem entered the vault, pulling out several scraps of parchment, opening each and tossing them aside until it found the correct one, leaving a breadcrumb trail behind it. Pointing at the walls, the golem chittered idly, settling on a particular section. What appeared to be a vent was quickly disassembled, parts and a vial of alchemical solution set aside less than delicately. Revealing a false bottom, it began digging through a hidden bin of tools and small projects. One inner pocket contained a folded up sack of sturdier cloth, which the short creature began piling items into. The much smaller beetle-like golem emerged from a pocket, scrabbling up its companion's arm and leaping onto the desk holding the dismantled trap. Rearing back, it rested on the small jar, beginning to rock the solution around on the shelf it rested on. |
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| Marion | Sat Dec 2, 2017 11:34 pm Post #2 |
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Planks of wood boarded the broken window. The shards of glass were long cleaned up from the sidewalk beneath. Even now, Marion could feel how the glass crunched beneath the heavy soles of her boots when she’d left—she remembered the shape pressing upwards against the soft ball of her foot, and how easily it had snapped under her weight. The scent of blood no longer permeated the street. Cleaned up within, and a facade in the process of renovation, the next tenant would never know that a boy had been murdered here. Across the street, seated on the lid of an alleyway dumpster, Marion swallowed over a lump in her throat. Her thumb traced idly along the round pocketclock Eshan had made for her, catching the encrusted jewels with her nail. She felt pathetic, coming back here to mourn—but the circumstances surrounded his death puzzled her still. Beating Griffin and the boys didn’t provide her with any information; they knew nothing, and she believed them. She was alone in figuring out his killer: the guys didn’t want her around anymore, and that suited her just fine. She was better off on her own. The only person who stayed was Irena. Eshan might have stayed, too, if he’d lived. There was another universe, maybe, where the three of them became a little family, and left Balefire together, three kids that no one in the world cared about except for each other— Something approached the shop’s door. Marion’s brows came together as she watched—something—a golem?—place a device obscured by distance over the door and then open it. Temper flaring, Marion hopped down from the dumpster and forced herself to cross the street on silent feet. She entered the shop ready to fight, but the golem was gone. Then she noticed the open lid to the trap door. It had been locked from the inside before. And who would go down there, unless they knew they would find something of value? Unless they wanted to— Unless they wanted to dismantle Eshan’s golem, scrap it for parts, steal it. Over my dead [removed]ing body. Hurrying down the ladder, Marion stooped against the low ceiling. Just down the tunnel, the golem was taking apart the wall. “Hey, SHITSTAIN!” Marion yelled. “DROP IT! That doesn’t belong to you!” |
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| Tinker | Sun Dec 3, 2017 11:34 am Post #3 |
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Igni grunted, prying the next panel away, scooping tools into his bag, when the small beetle-like golem managed to rock the alchemic jar off the table it was scuttling around on. The clocktower golem dropped the spanner, diving onto the floor and scooping it up in a cloak-covered hand several inches from the floor. Staring at the jar a moment, Igni's eyes contracted, narrowing to pinpricks as his head slowly turned to glare at the beetle. The tiny device stamped a foot irritably at him, overlooking the scene from the edge of the table. Setting the jar far out of reach, Igni swiped the golem up in a metal claw, fishing for some metal wire coiled up in the bag. The security golem waved its legs aimlessly in protest as Igni crudely wrapped it up in the wire, grumbling in a crackling, rolling flame of a language full of pops and hisses. The small bundle of fine parts and wire wiggled in frustration, but could not free itself from the impromptu hogtie. Stuffing the beetle in a pocket, he returned to tossing tools and parts into the bag. He didn't even notice the young woman that had followed him into the empty vault. Igni spun on the spot, wrench in one hand and raised to attack. He froze a moment, pinpoint eyes flicking over her and neck craning to peer behind her. Was she alone, or had he been caught out by the gang Shrike had warned him about? Satisfied, he set the spanner aside, eyes growing from pinpricks into small portholes looking into a furnace, flames visible behind the glass. Igni leaned casually against the leg of the table, but his elbow found no purchase. After an awkward second of shuffling before settling for placing hands on hips, the short cloaked golem took a valiant pose. "Nothing belongs to anyone, youngling of the streets." Igni's voice was resonant, echoing like a small man trapped in a metal box. His voice was strangely accented, an unusual flair with rolled r's and lilting pronunciation. "But you do not belong here any more than I. Such beauty belongs beneath a crown." He bowed from the waist with no bending of the knees, hood flopping down and engulfing him as he rose. It took a moment to fight his way free of the garment. "I fear this is a private matter, mistress of my heart." He rested a thin, metal-fingered hand to the cloak over his torso. "My master wishes for his things." "Stunning creature of moon and shadow," he waved a hand to her face and gesturing up at her hair, pausing at the ivory lock. "I am called Ignacio Antonio Valentina DiGiovanni. But you," the iris over one eye winked shut, catching half-open. "You may call me Igni. It is my most humble pleasure." He reached out with both hands in supplication, reaching toward her hand to bring to his faceplate in a kiss. |
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| Marion | Sun Dec 3, 2017 6:51 pm Post #4 |
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Marion snatched her hand away from his and wheeled back, pulling her entire body just out of his reach. Mouth twisting into a disgusted frown, she peered down at the little golem called Igni and wiped her hand off on her coat. “You’re gross,” she snapped. “And you’re a thief, too. These belong to Eshan.” Her gaze flicked to the bag into which he’d spilled parts. He stood between her and Eshan’s belongings, but he was small and she felt confident that she could push him aside. Golem or not, he was a small-statured creature—and though he held a wrench, she felt no measure of peril. A wrench could break a bone, but only if it made contact. “You can tell your master that the mistress of your heart kept you from taking these things,” she said. “You don’t get to take them.” Pouncing then, Marion dove toward the back of parts to scoop it up. |
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| Tinker | Sun Dec 3, 2017 7:20 pm Post #5 |
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Igni bent to kiss her hand but it slipped away, yanked back by this fantastical being that had so unexpectedly crossed his path. "Ahaha, she enjoys playing hard to get. No matter, my lovely friend." He rested a hand to his heart, tapping hollowly against the chestplate. "I enjoy the pursuit." He lowered his voice, a baritone that would be more fitting a larger creature. Tidying the folds of his cloak, he brushed delicately at his shoulder as if sweeping dust off a fine robe of velvet instead of a crudely stitched burlap. "I am no thief." He sniffed, an impressive feat considering he lacked any sort of nose. "A scoundrel, perhaps, but a thief." He scoffed. In the pocket sewn into his cloak a chirping sounded followed by a vibrating twang of snapping metal. the pocket jostled as the beetle punched out at the cloth, ripping a hole. The short golem failed to notice his escaping partner, giving a protestation and dropping the wrench, dropping to fall over the sack of tools. "I'm afraid--" He grunted as he clasped the cloth tight in four-fingered hands, his feet joining in trying to secure the bag, proving just as nimble as his hands. "I must protest, my dear. He needs his tools back." He grunted. "He needs to remember!" The beetle golem scuttled away unseen by the pair, using clawed limbs to latch onto the wooden leg of the table. It swung precariously a couple of times as it dug in and a claw slipped, but soon found purchase and scrabbled over the edge, making directly for the jar of amber fluid. An elbow swung out by Igni jostled the table, making it lose footing for a second and setting the sphere rolling, but it caught the globe and rose up on back legs, front pairs pushing as it rocked the jar toward the edge of the table. "Dear lady! Release the tools and I'll let you off with a warning!" |
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| Marion | Sun Dec 3, 2017 7:40 pm Post #6 |
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The golem fell over the sack of tools. Even so, Marion did not release the fabric she had been able to grasp in her hands. Knuckles turning white, she grit her teeth and tried to pull the bag away from Igni, but his metallic weight made it all the more difficult to find purchase against him. He needs to remember! He needs to remember. Marion stopped tugging at the sack. She did not release it—her grasp remained firm—but she paused, looking at Igni with furious curiosity now instead of pure irritation. “Who?” she asked. There was a deep urgency in her voice. “Who needs to remember? Remember what?” |
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| Tinker | Sun Dec 3, 2017 9:09 pm Post #7 |
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Igni's eyes were narrowed in concentration, giving the sack a few fruitless tugs. Mechanical and powered by the flames of the outer planes as he was, the efforts were fruitless against this pale, slim beauty. Still holding the sack he grunted and stopped his struggling as she did, thoroughly stumped. He knew in his heart of hearts that this stunning young woman was not going to stop him from leaving this building with Tinker's tools. He just didn't quite know the next step. "Mister Shrike. He's been fixing us, but he needs his tools." He tugged halfheartedly at the bag, gently lifting and lowering the corner of the sack. "He fixed me and this little piece of scrap her--" His hand patted at his pocket, froze, then began patting himself down. He wiggled a finger in the hole torn in the pocket, finding the coiled wire loosened and empty. The glass orb tumbled from the edge of the table, the beetle rocking over the edge as it looked down at the door charge with a pyromaniac's glittering eyes. Amber fluid caught the lamplight, the sloshing beginning to force the liquid to react and heat up as it neared the impending explosion. One of Igni's feet shot out, digits wrapping around the orb with a sharp cracking sound. Releasing a pent-up breath, despite lack of lungs, Igni hung his head and set the orb down with the utmost care. Glaring up at the beetle, he shook his head as the tiny golem stamped its feet angrily, scuttling in a circle in agitation. "My lady, I would propose a deal. I will trade you the golem for the tools." He let go of the bag, clasping his hands together and bending at the waist. "Please, my love. He really does need them. If we can get these back to him, he can help the other golem. One of us has been crushed in a gear and if he isn't fixed he's going to leave his spike and go back home. We've all been together a very long time. He'll just be replaced with a newer model that doesn't, er..." He cleared his throat with a crackling sound. "mouth off." |
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| Marion | Sun Dec 3, 2017 9:24 pm Post #8 |
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Shrike. She’d heard that somewhere before—she couldn’t remember exactly where, but the word wasn’t foreign to her. Staring down Igni with cool, suspicious eyes, she searched through the files of her memory searching for where she had encountered the term before. He did not release the bag when the amber liquid fell; instead a foot shot out, catching the bottle instead. Marion watched, and worried her lower lip. Even while distracted, it wouldn’t have been easy to snatch the bag away from him and run. This golem was too desperate for these parts. For his master—Shrike—to have these parts. He needed the parts so he could remember. Igni looked familiar. Where had she seen a golem of his build before? “I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “I’ll let you have these parts if you let me carry them to Mister Shrike for you. I’d like to meet him. You haven’t got to give me your—weird beetle thing. I don’t want it. Just let me come with you.” |
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| Tinker | Sun Dec 3, 2017 9:44 pm Post #9 |
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Igni reached up and snatched the stamping golem, bringing it close and squinting at it as if having trouble seeing it clearly. Grumbling, he set it on his cloaked shoulder where it turned a circle and hunkered down, claws digging into fabric. "Are you sure? An act of good faith on my part, my muse." He grumbled. Admittedly, it would likely be a better idea for her to carry the bag. She seemed like she may actually be able to bear the load. Now he thought it over, he would look slightly conspicuous trying to drag the sack of tools behind him clear to the tower. On the other hand... "Ah, Mister Shrike doesn't much, ah, like people, miss. I believe he may be shy. Last time one of the workers came out to inspect the tower he didn't come down for days. Maybe a pretty face will lure him out, eh?" Igni chortled, attempting to reach up to prod her ribs with an elbow. "A face like yours would draw people for miles around to be sure. In a good way, of course." He hurriedly added. Hesitantly letting go of the bag, hovering slightly over it as if making sure she wasn't going to sprint away with them, he slowly stood straighter. Reaching into a small pack strapped to his waist, he fished out a pair of thick spectacles, clicking them into his eye fixtures. These had the unsettling effect of magnifying his eyes and he had to tilt his head back to regard her properly. "Oh my. It was as I thought." He bowed again lightly. "Ravishing." "Come on, then. Please stay close and when we get there please don't move quickly or try to approach. If you run, we'll have to call for the proper authorities. I'll have you know I personally know a riot golem with very dim views of thievery." He raised a finger, as if lecturing her. "As a matter of fact, perhaps I should hold your hand. Just to be sure." He lifted a hand up to her, goggling eyes hopefully widened. Had he brows, they would have been dancing. |
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| Marion | Sun Dec 3, 2017 10:14 pm Post #10 |
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I believe he may be shy. A spark of hope ignited in Marion’s chest. It sounded like Eshan, all right—a shy boy who wouldn’t come around if he knew other people would be there. But she’d seen the crime scene herself, and knew what this shop looked like after the attack. If Eshan had lived, it was by some absolute miracle she didn’t yet understand. Lower lip trembling for a moment, Marion forced herself to frown deeply so that Igni wouldn’t mistake it for emotion. She didn’t dare hope that Eshan was alive. He couldn’t be. There were plenty of shy boys in Balefire who hung around golems. “Shut up,” she snarled. “Just stop it. I’m not your muse, or your mistress, or anything like that. Stop calling me pretty. Stop it right now. Or I’ll punch your glasses right out of your eyes.” Or into them, as the case may be. Punching a hunk of metal would only hurt her in the end, but the threat ought to stand. All she wanted was for this golem to stop showering her with flattery. Standing up, Marion heaved the sack of tools over her shoulder. In the tunnels she couldn’t stand straight, so she was stooped over a bit, the bits of wire and metal digging uncomfortably into her spine. Marion stared down at Igni for a moment, then snorted to say, as if. “Yeah, right,” she said, and began moving back toward the ladder. Adjusting the bag so that it wouldn’t fall, she climbed back up into the shop. She wished she’d stayed here, that night—she wished she’d stayed up all through the sleeping hours to talk to him. It was too late for any of that now. “Lead the way, Creep-ni,” she said. |
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| Tinker | Mon Dec 4, 2017 11:21 am Post #11 |
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Turning his imaginary nose up, Igni sniffed and spun on the spot. Leading the way out of the vault, he scaled the ladder to the shop floor. Pulling the burlap cloak around himself, the little service golem crept up to the door and peeked out, a halting hand back toward the young woman. Satisfied, he waved her on and strode on tiptoe, back straightened fully and walking as if he were three feet taller. Igni led the way quickly, walking with much more confidence toward the clocktower looming over the rooftops of the district. The beetle on his shoulder was hunched, turned around to face Mari with obvious distrust while Igni plodded on with all the trust in the world that this enchanting creature would not leave him behind. The clocktower was quiet but for the low rumble of gears from the outside. The side door was short, just tall enough for Igni to enter without having to bend at all, opening with a small groan. The beetle chirruped and scuttled down his arm, scrabbling across the planks to the scaling walls where it quickly ascended. Igni waved Mari to the ramps and stairs leading up, promptly moving up them at a reckless sprint. Service golems turned to look in their direction, but never stopped their work. Nearing the upper platform, Igni made a series of popping and crackling sounds, dashing over to the hull of another service golem lying on the floor on a sheet. Parts of it had been removed, a twisted and mangled leg and hip lay to the side. The chassis itself had some indentations where the teeth of the gears had bitten in, damaging the structure. While he waited for Mari to arrive, Igni dashed to the side and picked up the corner of a sheet, pulling a small pile of spare parts over to lay beside rhe damaged golem. The beetle golem scuttled over from the ledge by the clock face, a slight breeze chilling the air from a small window open in the glass looking out over the city. Footsteps followed the beetle hesitantly, a tall figure draped in a threadbare sheet following. The sheet had been stitched into a cloak much like Igni's, though it had obviously been made by more careful hands. It was nevertheless dirty and stitched with coarse thread where there had been tears in the cloth. The figure was tall as a normal man, if a little more slender than most. Nothing of its frame was visible beneath hood and clasped cloth, figure walking nervously closer to the pile, shooting glances back at the ramps as it neared the broken golem. Blue light glowed gently under the hood, one of the few sources of light in the tower. Squatting down beside the golem opened the cloak, golem's arms reaching out to drag nimble fingers across the damaged hull. Now intent on the golem, it stopped looking where its companion had warned him. Igni stood to the side, wringing the hem of his own cloak nervously. Standing beside the larger figure, it became obvious the little golem had fashioned his cloak to resemble the other's. Igni approached this second golem slowly, humming softly in a pattern. Squatting beside its larger friend, it kept giving looks back to Mari and "whispering" to the golem intent on its fallen brother. The hood turned, two pairs of cyan lights fixing on Mari for a moment before it turned its gaze toward the ceiling, lifting a shoulder as if to hide behind it. Its hands didn't leave the damaged chassis, but a smaller, thinner arm extended from under the cloak, reaching out palm-up in expectation. "An etching probe if you would, my... ah rude friend." Igni made a throat-clearing noise as he caught himself. |
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| Marion | Tue Dec 5, 2017 3:37 am Post #12 |
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As they neared the clocktower, and then entered, Marion recognized she had seen golems of Igni’s build before. It had been right here, not so long ago, when she and Eshan had emerged into the bottom of the tower from the sewer entrance. Swinging the pack of tools around to her front, she stooped low and followed Igni up the ramps, her speed impeded by needing to bend. He arrived long before she did. By the time Marion made it to the top platform, Igni had already set down a sheet with parts beside the damaged golem. The small window was open. A cold breeze entered through it. The memory was distant, obscured by booze and tears, but she knew she had looked out that very window with Eshan. Across all of Balefire. Setting her jaw, she buried the memories and the emotions attached to them deep inside her. She wanted to be made of stone when she met the Shrike. Which was easier said than done, once she saw him. Holding the bag of parts tighter, Marion’s fingers ached and her knuckles grew white with effort. Eyes wide, lips parted, she oscillated between hope and scorn. It had been unfinished when she last saw it, but she recognized the make and build of the golem before her now. She recognized the panels of its face. Under the trap door, through the tunnel, Eshan had showed her the incomplete golem, and she had examined every part of it thoroughly, and stared into the portholes of its eyes. She had touched the inside of its chassis, where it would have had a heart were it living. Rude. Her mouth quirked for a moment as if she had quickly suppressed a smile. Though it was Igni who called her that, Eshan had called her that first. And this was Eshan’s golem. Inching forward, she kept the sack of tools to her chest, fingers splayed wide over the fabric, and made no motion to hand Igni the tool he asked for. Instead she swallowed, gathered her courage, and then asked, softly, “Eshan?” |
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| Tinker | Tue Dec 5, 2017 10:55 am Post #13 |
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Rude. Eshan's fingers pried and prodded at the broken golem, opening a gap in the chassis and holding it as a fourth hand reached from under the cloak and slipped into the hole, gripping the bismuth-laminated binding spike. With a grunt he ripped it out, a brief discharge running through the chassis as the power was removed. The spike hummed softly in his hand, growing stronger without any shorted mana pathways to drain the elemental. Dropping the spike into Igni's waiting hands, Eshan trned back to face Mari, small grape-sized lenses glowing softly as his attention wandered at the roof over her head. His proffered hand fell, lower pair of arms folding neatly into his torso. Twisting his hands nervously, he spared a glance at the young woman. Flecks of light darted around behind the lenses in the glow, sparks brushing against diamond discs. The machine froze uncannily still, the hum of energy the only sound coming from a statue of steel and ragged cloth. The sounds she had made stirred him, moreso than when Igni took to speaking Common. Eshan. His hands came away from each other, tapping one finger against his chest. "Eshan." He lifted his finger from his own chest as if jerking his hand away from something searing hot. Hands waving as if trying to brush something away, he began to pace nervously, hands still waving and grabbing fistfuls of cloth, pulling at it in bunches. The cloak tore open as crude stitches gave way, showing the patches of missing plating beneath. "Eshan, Eshan..." He repeated, the voice of a young man echoing within himself, pacing picking up urgency. Igni crossed to stand next to Mari, watching Eshan's pacing and muttering. "Oh dear." He said, arms crossed. He stood a little closer to the woman than general politeness would allow, but seemed not to be actively antagonizing her yet. "I think you broke Mister Shrike, darling." He set hands on narrow hips, tapping nervously. Eshan spun on the spot, staggering a little before he caught his balance on a railing, pulling himself along to the window. He took a seat on the too-small stool, knees raised almost comically high. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he rested his chin on one and peered out the tome-sized opening. "Think he's going to wake up?" Igni bent back a little to look up at the vampire, flawed eyes goggling behind the corrective lenses. "I think that's the first thing he said since he came in here. Hid out in that nook for a few days straight under a pile of rags before he noticed I had a hitch in my step. Picked me up by the ankle and ground out the bend on the spot. Gave me a hell of a scare, I'll tell you." Noticing the gathering short golems watching from the walls and catwalks, Igni stamped a foot. "Back to work, knaves! Gods be, can't give a man a moment of privacy after he's done so much for us? Shame on the lot of you." Igni lectured, picking up a spare arm missing a hand and waving it at one of the red-eyed golems, chasing it back up the ramp. His condemnation of his lazy coworkers faded into incoherent shouts from above as he left the two alone. One by one the golems began returning to work, leaving Mari and Eshan, rocking gently on his stool. "Rude girl." |
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| Marion | Thu Dec 14, 2017 5:16 am Post #14 |
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Marion’s mouth twisted downward into a deep, bereaved frown. Tears swelled up in her eyes. Blinking the wetness away, she rolled her lips under her teeth to offset the expression of grief and spared Igni a cold, irritated glance. “You’re the one who said he needs to remember,” she said. “I’m the only one who can do that.” Eshan, in his new body, climbed atop a stool and perched there. Knees to his chest, he clung as if shielding himself from the memory of who he was—who she was. If he didn’t remember his own name, what did he remember about her? That she was a rude girl. A smile cracked open her mouth. “Rude girl, that’s me,” said Marion. Do you remember our fight? Please don’t remember our fight. Marion stepped closer, but gave him plenty of distance. He didn’t like to be touched. In this second life, maybe he wouldn’t even like having people near to him. He was vulnerable: his plating wasn’t finished, and until it was he was at risk. “Rude friend. Marion. Mari.” She placed a hand on her chest. Then, nodding slowly, her eyes steady and searching for his, she emphasized, “We’re friends, Eshan.” |
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| Tinker | Thu Jan 11, 2018 5:11 pm Post #15 |
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The golem pulled his makeshift cloak tight around his legs, cocooning in the rough cloth. One hand reached from underneath, picking at a loose thread. His mind was scrambled, thoughts scattered and failing to form connections. He had been running on reflex for days, keeping his hands busy while stray thoughts chased one another in circles. Coherent ideas were few and far between, occasionally rising in spurts of inspiration that he focused on to the exclusion of all else. But Marion had set his mind aflame. Thoughts raced, breaking out of the sluggish flow they'd become. Rude girl. Marion. The warehouse. His head twisted to the side, a tic-like motion as he hunched in tight. Metal creaked in protest as he pulled hard into himself, fingers tight around his base plating. "Eshan." He mumbled, voice still resembling someone speaking into a metal bucket or from inside a deep hole, but it was coming nearer. Eshan Coher. Tinker. Exiled son, tenuous friend, and skilled mechanist. He was a few things to a few different people, but he hadn't been close to anyone besides his mother. Except maybe Mari. There had been something there after their brief meeting, a faint memory of a budding friendship. The details of that night grew hazy the closr to the end it got, but they had gotten along. He remembered their night spent here drunk and vulnerable. Tinker began tapping on his knee through the cloth. It picked up speed as he focused on those memories. They felt thin and slippery, like a half-remembered dream that pulled further out of reach as you tried to recall it. This one, however, he had gripped between finger and thumb. Putting everything he had into dragging the memories back, he stopped tapping and clutched at himself once more. "M-Mari." His voice was there, slightly deeper and resonant but unmistakeably his. It no longer sounded hollow. Putting his legs down on the grating of the walkway, he turned in his stool to look at her with the cloak still clutched to his chest. Standing his full height he took a hesitant step toward her, hunched like a beaten dog as he neared. All at once he reached out to her, trying to wrap her in a hug and pulling the cloak around the both of them. Eshan didn't sob. He didn't know if he could anymore. His body didn't tremble or rock. A low humming was the only sound that came from his plating. "Am I still alive?" |
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8:39 AM Jul 11

