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[ The more he considers it, the more he seriously thinks he should quit this dumb courier job, bite the bullet, and ask if that blacksmith guy if there's any work for him there. Partly because the shit he sees there whenever he vists to talk about his upcoming prosthetic just seems kinda ... cool. Completely foreign in its details, but somewhat familiar to him in ultimately being manual work, while still being interesting. More interesting than the job of delivering stuff, certainly, so a job change would be a good move, right?
And also partly because this courier job sucks.
Late in the afternoon finds Gen making his way through the streets of Kowloon on his last delivery of the day, huffing as he scuffs his sleeve past his jaw to wipe away the steady stream of sweat beading off his chin. He's had to haul around heavy shit all day, the heat's still pretty formidable around midday, and running around like this is doing wonders for his physical condition, but damn is it exhausting. Not to mention, Kowloon's still a pain in the ass to do deliveries in -- he might have grown used to the geography by now, but making his way through all these dingy allies and up these rickety staircases to cut through twisty streets is annoying.
Gen's clearly a little worn out by the time he makes his way to his destination, giving a hard huff as he leans against the wall by the doorframe and pounds his fist on it once, twice. ]
Delivery.
[ His voice, too, is a little hoarse as he calls out to whoever's inside. Hopefully they answer the door fast. A canine ear twitches as he listens for the sound of footsteps, staying where he is leaning right next to the door with fabulously unprofessional posture. ]
And also partly because this courier job sucks.
Late in the afternoon finds Gen making his way through the streets of Kowloon on his last delivery of the day, huffing as he scuffs his sleeve past his jaw to wipe away the steady stream of sweat beading off his chin. He's had to haul around heavy shit all day, the heat's still pretty formidable around midday, and running around like this is doing wonders for his physical condition, but damn is it exhausting. Not to mention, Kowloon's still a pain in the ass to do deliveries in -- he might have grown used to the geography by now, but making his way through all these dingy allies and up these rickety staircases to cut through twisty streets is annoying.
Gen's clearly a little worn out by the time he makes his way to his destination, giving a hard huff as he leans against the wall by the doorframe and pounds his fist on it once, twice. ]
Delivery.
[ His voice, too, is a little hoarse as he calls out to whoever's inside. Hopefully they answer the door fast. A canine ear twitches as he listens for the sound of footsteps, staying where he is leaning right next to the door with fabulously unprofessional posture. ]
[ The address that Gen delivers to belongs to, for all intents and purposes, a battered door attached to a heavily-decaying, abandoned factory. The native, neon-pink mushrooms have grown throughout it — through windows that once had glass panes, through the cracks in crumbling walls, through the ground and the foundation below, weaving together to form a braided, warmly-glowing structure that is perhaps the only reason the old, squat building even exists anymore. Sandwiched between other abandoned structures, it looms at a strange angle, as if the building itself had leaned forward, loomed over those who might come knocking on the door.
Within it, there is the sound of footsteps. No startled crashing, no scuffling for purchase upon what must be a floor in terrible disrepair. The heavy tread of boots grows louder, louder still as the heavy, metal door ( perhaps the only door left, apart from the sliding loading bay shutters ) seems to briefly rattle in its frame. Through the narrow window, located just above Gen's eyeline, there is a light cast within — violet, where the mushrooms are pink.
The door rasps, squeals as it is pulled open; a single, fluid motion that should not be possible for such a battered old thing, yet there it goes. Controlled, swinging wide to reveal the dark, armored form of the thing awaiting its? his? delivery. Bondrewd has to bend down slightly, to peer under the top of the door's frame. The interior of the building is pitch black, only lit by the violet shine coming from his armor. Horrifying, or maybe normalized? because there are a lot of weirdos in Kenos these days. ]
Aah, wonderful. [ Subarashii Counter: 33. ]
You are perfectly punctual, and I am pleased to see you. Would you like me to help you carry my packages in? I am afraid I must have them brought directly to my office, as it is the only room I have cleaned thus far.
Within it, there is the sound of footsteps. No startled crashing, no scuffling for purchase upon what must be a floor in terrible disrepair. The heavy tread of boots grows louder, louder still as the heavy, metal door ( perhaps the only door left, apart from the sliding loading bay shutters ) seems to briefly rattle in its frame. Through the narrow window, located just above Gen's eyeline, there is a light cast within — violet, where the mushrooms are pink.
The door rasps, squeals as it is pulled open; a single, fluid motion that should not be possible for such a battered old thing, yet there it goes. Controlled, swinging wide to reveal the dark, armored form of the thing awaiting its? his? delivery. Bondrewd has to bend down slightly, to peer under the top of the door's frame. The interior of the building is pitch black, only lit by the violet shine coming from his armor. Horrifying, or maybe normalized? because there are a lot of weirdos in Kenos these days. ]
Aah, wonderful. [ Subarashii Counter: 33. ]
You are perfectly punctual, and I am pleased to see you. Would you like me to help you carry my packages in? I am afraid I must have them brought directly to my office, as it is the only room I have cleaned thus far.
[ ... of course the intended recipient is some fucking weirdo.
Stubborn bravado keeps Gen from backing off when the door swings open to reveal that jagged, eerie figure coming melting out of the darkness to loom over him. But faint signs of tension do manifest in his body language -- the square of his shoulders, the grit of dirt underfoot as he subtly shifts his weight on his feet, the slight backwards cant of those canine ears of his. Not to mention, something about the guy's tone of voice makes his nerves crawl in a way he can't ignore. His gut tells him this guy is truly dangerous. ]
-- fine. [ Still, pride dictates that Gen can't show any sign of discomfort. And faced by Bondrewd's impeccably polite and gracious request, he technically can't raise any complaints. After fixing a flat stare on Bondrewd for a moment, an ear flicking in consideration, he speaks again at a deadpan drawl, almost a dare for Bondrewd to give him shit about it when he adds: ] But unpacking it's not my job. You're on your own for that.
[ Look at how wonderful his customer service skills are. Truly perfect.
He huffs a disgruntled sigh as he shifts the weight of the backpack-style shoulder harness his cargo sits on, then ducks his head to wipes his face on the upper portion of his sleeve. The fabric comes away darker with sweat; he really is quite tired. ]
Just tell me where you want it.
[ His whippy tail curls close to his leg, but otherwise Gen does an admirable job of feigning casual as he jerks his chin, indicating for Bondrewd to lead the way into that delightful, totally-safe, totally-cozy warehouse that will surely not be dangerous or sketchy at all. ]
Stubborn bravado keeps Gen from backing off when the door swings open to reveal that jagged, eerie figure coming melting out of the darkness to loom over him. But faint signs of tension do manifest in his body language -- the square of his shoulders, the grit of dirt underfoot as he subtly shifts his weight on his feet, the slight backwards cant of those canine ears of his. Not to mention, something about the guy's tone of voice makes his nerves crawl in a way he can't ignore. His gut tells him this guy is truly dangerous. ]
-- fine. [ Still, pride dictates that Gen can't show any sign of discomfort. And faced by Bondrewd's impeccably polite and gracious request, he technically can't raise any complaints. After fixing a flat stare on Bondrewd for a moment, an ear flicking in consideration, he speaks again at a deadpan drawl, almost a dare for Bondrewd to give him shit about it when he adds: ] But unpacking it's not my job. You're on your own for that.
[ Look at how wonderful his customer service skills are. Truly perfect.
He huffs a disgruntled sigh as he shifts the weight of the backpack-style shoulder harness his cargo sits on, then ducks his head to wipes his face on the upper portion of his sleeve. The fabric comes away darker with sweat; he really is quite tired. ]
Just tell me where you want it.
[ His whippy tail curls close to his leg, but otherwise Gen does an admirable job of feigning casual as he jerks his chin, indicating for Bondrewd to lead the way into that delightful, totally-safe, totally-cozy warehouse that will surely not be dangerous or sketchy at all. ]
[ Oh, the courier has animal ears. How blessed.
He badly wants to touch them. ]
Naturally. You are a courier, not a maid.
[ That, and he would much rather handle the equipment he has coming in with his own hands; itemization and organization are better to do as things come in, than be faced with the task of cataloguing what he has available once it is all present. He is perfectly logical, like that. He truly has concluded that having Gen bring everything in, to the small office he inhabits at this time, will expedite the process; the thought of having the young man set everything down, only to have it picked up again and dragged piece-by-piece into the decrepit warehouse, is a thought accompanied by the idea of time wasted.
So, he holds his arm across the door — towering a few inches above the dog-eared courier, and gestures for him to enter. The warehouse is dark, save for the neon glow of the mushrooms that grow heavily from the floor, from the distant wall, from the ceiling itself - punching through in patches, through skylights and roofing. The ground below crunches with debris, save for a dutifully-cleaned path that must be the result of consistent, methodical travel. Amidst the pink glow, the lights of Bondrewd's heavy tail glow strongly, and it is by the hypnotic, easy sway of it that Gen will find his way. ]
In here, and on the desk. You needn't lean over. Poor thing, you look quite tired.
[ The office is not far, a former foreman's area located on the first floor — in the far, back corner of the dark, strange place. There is a lantern lit within, oil wicking strongly against the flame to cast flickering shadows and illumination upon the walls. A desk has been neatly cleaned off, a chair behind it. Bondrewd seems to be in the process of discarding broken file cabinets, judging by the heap of twisted scrap metal and drawers just beyond the door to the office.
There is! A little coffee pot and a pitcher of fresh water on the bare-bones shelves behind him, though. The scent of acrid, bitter beans fills the air — definitely burnt, it's been brewing all day in the pot. It is the pitcher of water that he moves to fetch, after heaving the sheer bulk of himself between the corner of his desk and some of the collapsed file cabinets. ]
I believe there is glassware in these packages. At least, I hope that it is my alembic system...
[ he cannot pout, but he is pouting eagerly............ ]
He badly wants to touch them. ]
Naturally. You are a courier, not a maid.
[ That, and he would much rather handle the equipment he has coming in with his own hands; itemization and organization are better to do as things come in, than be faced with the task of cataloguing what he has available once it is all present. He is perfectly logical, like that. He truly has concluded that having Gen bring everything in, to the small office he inhabits at this time, will expedite the process; the thought of having the young man set everything down, only to have it picked up again and dragged piece-by-piece into the decrepit warehouse, is a thought accompanied by the idea of time wasted.
So, he holds his arm across the door — towering a few inches above the dog-eared courier, and gestures for him to enter. The warehouse is dark, save for the neon glow of the mushrooms that grow heavily from the floor, from the distant wall, from the ceiling itself - punching through in patches, through skylights and roofing. The ground below crunches with debris, save for a dutifully-cleaned path that must be the result of consistent, methodical travel. Amidst the pink glow, the lights of Bondrewd's heavy tail glow strongly, and it is by the hypnotic, easy sway of it that Gen will find his way. ]
In here, and on the desk. You needn't lean over. Poor thing, you look quite tired.
[ The office is not far, a former foreman's area located on the first floor — in the far, back corner of the dark, strange place. There is a lantern lit within, oil wicking strongly against the flame to cast flickering shadows and illumination upon the walls. A desk has been neatly cleaned off, a chair behind it. Bondrewd seems to be in the process of discarding broken file cabinets, judging by the heap of twisted scrap metal and drawers just beyond the door to the office.
There is! A little coffee pot and a pitcher of fresh water on the bare-bones shelves behind him, though. The scent of acrid, bitter beans fills the air — definitely burnt, it's been brewing all day in the pot. It is the pitcher of water that he moves to fetch, after heaving the sheer bulk of himself between the corner of his desk and some of the collapsed file cabinets. ]
I believe there is glassware in these packages. At least, I hope that it is my alembic system...
[ he cannot pout, but he is pouting eagerly............ ]
[Generally speaking, Liem is not the kind of man who wilds out and gnaws on the necks of near-strangers without any warning. As an apology for this embarrassing gaffe, Bondrewd will receive a small package a little later on in Pelu, containing a trio of leather-bound notebooks of differing sizes, a package of handsome pens, paper-wrapped sticks of charcoal, and a sheaf of very thin paper — the sort meant for making rubbings. A small square of card bears a note in ruler-straight script:]
Mr. Bondrewd,
Please accept my apologies for any suffering or inconvenience you sustained as a result of my behaviour in Aetós’s facility. I have had good experiences with the vendors of these particular products; I hope you will find a use for them in your endeavours.
—Liem Talbott
Mr. Bondrewd,
Please accept my apologies for any suffering or inconvenience you sustained as a result of my behaviour in Aetós’s facility. I have had good experiences with the vendors of these particular products; I hope you will find a use for them in your endeavours.
—Liem Talbott
[ His courier sure does have animal ears -- animal ears that continue to swivel and twitch, casting about warily for any sounds as Gen follows after Bondrewd into that incredibly creepy warehouse. It's not like he's completely blind to what a sketchy situation this is, but at the same time, his pride won't permit him to admit he feels at all threatened by this situation.
He's just finishing off a job. Nothing's going to happen, right? This guy's just a fucking weirdo, but as long as he gets his package, then nothing will happen.
Probably. ]
I'm fine. [ He's snapped out of his cautious considerations and back into the moment by the mere insinuation that he's faltering -- 'poor thing', what the hell -- and huffs an indignant noise as he digs through his pockets for the waybill. ] Yeah, there's glass, it's been clinking in there the whole time I was bringing it over.
[ Paper crinkles as he unfolds the waybill to squint at the writing there. ]
... I think it's your system. [ Whatever it is. ] Here.
[ He shoves the piece of paper into Bondrewd's chest before striding over to the indicated desk, turning around so he can slowly lower the harness' contents to sit on its surface. The soft sound of glass clinking from within can be heard with the movement, though it's notably muffled; for all his shitty attitude, Gen at least knows to do his job properly, and he's taken the care to ensure his cargo's been properly packaged and transported without any danger of breakage. Buckles click and leather creaks as Gen eases himself out of the harness with a sigh of relief, then turns around to begin unpacking Bondrewd's precious delivery. ]
I'm putting everything here, so once you've confirmed that -- [ his voice breaks with a hoarse crackle, and Gen clears his throat, brow furrowed. His gaze flickers towards the pitcher of water on the shelf behind Bondrewd, though of course he's not about to ask for any of it. Another clear of the throat before he continues brusquely: ] ... once you've confirmed everything's been delivered without damage, just sign the form and I'll be on my way.
He's just finishing off a job. Nothing's going to happen, right? This guy's just a fucking weirdo, but as long as he gets his package, then nothing will happen.
Probably. ]
I'm fine. [ He's snapped out of his cautious considerations and back into the moment by the mere insinuation that he's faltering -- 'poor thing', what the hell -- and huffs an indignant noise as he digs through his pockets for the waybill. ] Yeah, there's glass, it's been clinking in there the whole time I was bringing it over.
[ Paper crinkles as he unfolds the waybill to squint at the writing there. ]
... I think it's your system. [ Whatever it is. ] Here.
[ He shoves the piece of paper into Bondrewd's chest before striding over to the indicated desk, turning around so he can slowly lower the harness' contents to sit on its surface. The soft sound of glass clinking from within can be heard with the movement, though it's notably muffled; for all his shitty attitude, Gen at least knows to do his job properly, and he's taken the care to ensure his cargo's been properly packaged and transported without any danger of breakage. Buckles click and leather creaks as Gen eases himself out of the harness with a sigh of relief, then turns around to begin unpacking Bondrewd's precious delivery. ]
I'm putting everything here, so once you've confirmed that -- [ his voice breaks with a hoarse crackle, and Gen clears his throat, brow furrowed. His gaze flickers towards the pitcher of water on the shelf behind Bondrewd, though of course he's not about to ask for any of it. Another clear of the throat before he continues brusquely: ] ... once you've confirmed everything's been delivered without damage, just sign the form and I'll be on my way.
[ Come morning during early in the second half of Pelu, Bondrewd will find a box has been delivered and waiting outside of his door. A fanciful card sits on top, and in elegant script reads:
Esteemed Bearer,
Please accept this token of our sincerest gratitude and proof of your efforts to combat the Blight's spread. Your assistance in procuring the flower specimens is greatly appreciated. The included mixture, when diluted in water, has been shown to slow the progression of the disease when ingested or spread directly over a degrading object. Though we still have much work to do, we will continue to experiment in hopes that this will lead us to a permanent cure.
Yours,
Yuri Vogen
Greenwood Yards
Inside the box sits another decorative floral box - and inside that is a vial of a shimmering, blue-green mixture. True to word, if ingested by a person suffering from the Blight or spread over an object succumbing to its effects, it will considerably slow the progress of the affliction. There are enough for three dosages.
Next time Bondrewd visits Greenwood Yards, he will also find he is greeted with great warmth - and offered a small vial of dried herbs. They smell divine - and the man who hands it to him explains that when burned, the smoke it produces has the uncanny ability to make one able to shed their Shard's Discord, transferring it to another of their choosing through physical contact. There is enough for one use (with player permission, of course!). ]
Esteemed Bearer,
Please accept this token of our sincerest gratitude and proof of your efforts to combat the Blight's spread. Your assistance in procuring the flower specimens is greatly appreciated. The included mixture, when diluted in water, has been shown to slow the progression of the disease when ingested or spread directly over a degrading object. Though we still have much work to do, we will continue to experiment in hopes that this will lead us to a permanent cure.
Yours,
Yuri Vogen
Greenwood Yards
Inside the box sits another decorative floral box - and inside that is a vial of a shimmering, blue-green mixture. True to word, if ingested by a person suffering from the Blight or spread over an object succumbing to its effects, it will considerably slow the progress of the affliction. There are enough for three dosages.
Next time Bondrewd visits Greenwood Yards, he will also find he is greeted with great warmth - and offered a small vial of dried herbs. They smell divine - and the man who hands it to him explains that when burned, the smoke it produces has the uncanny ability to make one able to shed their Shard's Discord, transferring it to another of their choosing through physical contact. There is enough for one use (with player permission, of course!). ]
An alembic system. It is an alchemical apparatus, used to distill liquid mixtures by heating to selectively boil and then cooling to condense the vapor. Would you like to see it?
[ Accepting the waybill from Gen, he turns the paper around and examines it — methodical and slow, running the tip of his gloved finger down the length of the list, checking for the initial record of all that is present in the packaging. Once he is satisfied he knows what ought to be there, he sets the waybill down upon the creaking desk and reaches for the packages. He tugs the first towards himself, and the flash of shadow over his shoulder is hardly illuminated by the dim glow of the room. Instead, it is lit from within, as the bulk of his tail curls fluidly over his shoulder — setting the sharp tip of it to the box, slicing through with surgical precision and tensile strength.
He does the same with the other boxes, opening them all in turn to examine his order. ]
Ah.
[ He pulls his hands from one of the boxes, instead to turn and reach for the pitcher of water on the shelf; attentive, at all times, to his surroundings and the observable elements of individuals. Gen is hoarse. Gen has been hauling his delivery. Ergo, Gen might require refreshing. Lightly, he sets the pitcher upon the edge of the desk, near to the dog-eared courier. ]
Help yourself. You are a commendable young man, for not a single piece of my system is damaged. Are you the regular courier, who takes this route? I would enjoy seeing you make all of my deliveries, from here on out.
[ Accepting the waybill from Gen, he turns the paper around and examines it — methodical and slow, running the tip of his gloved finger down the length of the list, checking for the initial record of all that is present in the packaging. Once he is satisfied he knows what ought to be there, he sets the waybill down upon the creaking desk and reaches for the packages. He tugs the first towards himself, and the flash of shadow over his shoulder is hardly illuminated by the dim glow of the room. Instead, it is lit from within, as the bulk of his tail curls fluidly over his shoulder — setting the sharp tip of it to the box, slicing through with surgical precision and tensile strength.
He does the same with the other boxes, opening them all in turn to examine his order. ]
Ah.
[ He pulls his hands from one of the boxes, instead to turn and reach for the pitcher of water on the shelf; attentive, at all times, to his surroundings and the observable elements of individuals. Gen is hoarse. Gen has been hauling his delivery. Ergo, Gen might require refreshing. Lightly, he sets the pitcher upon the edge of the desk, near to the dog-eared courier. ]
Help yourself. You are a commendable young man, for not a single piece of my system is damaged. Are you the regular courier, who takes this route? I would enjoy seeing you make all of my deliveries, from here on out.
[ Gen snorts, not bothering to pause in his movements as he continues unpacking the many different packages and boxes that have been tetris-ed into his courier's pack. ]
You think I'm gonna understand anything if you show me? [ He'd only stayed enrolled in highschool to maintain some pretense of normality; he knows he's too stupid to understand anything as technical as chemistry. His movements do falter with a slight flinch when he notices the sharp slice of that tail, but Gen only squints for a moment before resuming his work. ] As long as you can sign off that nothing came damaged, then that's as far as I care about your system.
[ His customer service is truly gold star-worthy.
Still. Even that shitty attitude of his does have small cracks. Because once his pack's empty, Gen leans against a counter off to the side to start nursing a glass of water (without so much as a word of thanks, of course) -- and looks up with a blink at the compliment extended his way.
He's silent at first, but the flat expression he wears is rather betrayed by the intrigued flick of a ear, and the way his tail wags slowly behind him, just once. It's not that often that he's commended for his work, after all. ]
... too bad for you, but only for a little longer. [ Gen drains the rest of his glass to try and flatten out his voice, attempting to maintain his usual pretense at apathy as he pours himself another glass. ] I'm the regular for this area, yeah, but I'll probably only stick with this for another week or two, so make your requests fast. Unless you're gonna be looking for a blacksmith after that.
You think I'm gonna understand anything if you show me? [ He'd only stayed enrolled in highschool to maintain some pretense of normality; he knows he's too stupid to understand anything as technical as chemistry. His movements do falter with a slight flinch when he notices the sharp slice of that tail, but Gen only squints for a moment before resuming his work. ] As long as you can sign off that nothing came damaged, then that's as far as I care about your system.
[ His customer service is truly gold star-worthy.
Still. Even that shitty attitude of his does have small cracks. Because once his pack's empty, Gen leans against a counter off to the side to start nursing a glass of water (without so much as a word of thanks, of course) -- and looks up with a blink at the compliment extended his way.
He's silent at first, but the flat expression he wears is rather betrayed by the intrigued flick of a ear, and the way his tail wags slowly behind him, just once. It's not that often that he's commended for his work, after all. ]
... too bad for you, but only for a little longer. [ Gen drains the rest of his glass to try and flatten out his voice, attempting to maintain his usual pretense at apathy as he pours himself another glass. ] I'm the regular for this area, yeah, but I'll probably only stick with this for another week or two, so make your requests fast. Unless you're gonna be looking for a blacksmith after that.
I do. [ He does. ] I believe you can understand anything that you wish to.
[ Such is the liberating, elevating power of science! It is a practical, methodical process that anyone can learn, anyone can use, and all results — provided that no corners are cut — are resoundingly solid. Science is a great equalizer in method, and a great divider in application. As he pulls apart the boxes, slicing them into panels to stack them neatly in the sagging chair he probably never actually sit in, he examines each piece of complex, nigh-alien glassware and sets it aside upon his sturdiest shelf.
As he does, he checks off the itemized list, affirming that the equipment has arrived perfectly intact. This young man truly is a credit to his trade! ]
Ah, that truly is a disappointment. I endeavor to hold on to individuals who do their jobs well. It is an inconvenience, to have to work alone after years of functioning in tandem with others. [ 'In a team' would be the normal thing to say, but let's be honest here, Bondrewd definitely means 'in tandom', since the Umbra Hands were all part of his hivemind-soul. As he steadily checks off all of the materials, he comes to the end of his list and grips the pen — signing off, with a tidy, flowing script. Finishing the task, he examines the list — diligently, and then places it on the desk. Facing Gen.
He does not speak as though he is aiming to rush the young man out the door, though. ]
A blacksmith. [ If his voice had any ebb and flow to it, he might sound mildly chiding, like a father scolding his child for not having enough faith in himself. Instead, he is brutally straightforward, robotic: ] A trade in which a master smith takes an apprentice under their tutelage, and show them a craft. That you learned such a trade, means that your assessment of yourself in regards to my alembic system is decidedly incorrect.
[ He briefly brings his hands together, a staccato burst of applause. ]
I am always in need of someone willing to assist me with repairs to my armor. It is a complex system, of both metal and organism, and additional hands always have made light of such work. See?
[ And that is the point where he rounds the desk once more, heaving the great, dark bulk of himself elegantly and gracefully towards Gen, holding his arms out now, to allow the dog-eared young man to see the pieces of his armor that are already suffering damage. Old, filed-down chunks torn from the knuckle guards, the helm scored with both nicks and the intricate, thinly-etched mark of a Kenosian Stargazer. ]
Our paths may continue to cross, how fortunate.
[ Such is the liberating, elevating power of science! It is a practical, methodical process that anyone can learn, anyone can use, and all results — provided that no corners are cut — are resoundingly solid. Science is a great equalizer in method, and a great divider in application. As he pulls apart the boxes, slicing them into panels to stack them neatly in the sagging chair he probably never actually sit in, he examines each piece of complex, nigh-alien glassware and sets it aside upon his sturdiest shelf.
As he does, he checks off the itemized list, affirming that the equipment has arrived perfectly intact. This young man truly is a credit to his trade! ]
Ah, that truly is a disappointment. I endeavor to hold on to individuals who do their jobs well. It is an inconvenience, to have to work alone after years of functioning in tandem with others. [ 'In a team' would be the normal thing to say, but let's be honest here, Bondrewd definitely means 'in tandom', since the Umbra Hands were all part of his hivemind-soul. As he steadily checks off all of the materials, he comes to the end of his list and grips the pen — signing off, with a tidy, flowing script. Finishing the task, he examines the list — diligently, and then places it on the desk. Facing Gen.
He does not speak as though he is aiming to rush the young man out the door, though. ]
A blacksmith. [ If his voice had any ebb and flow to it, he might sound mildly chiding, like a father scolding his child for not having enough faith in himself. Instead, he is brutally straightforward, robotic: ] A trade in which a master smith takes an apprentice under their tutelage, and show them a craft. That you learned such a trade, means that your assessment of yourself in regards to my alembic system is decidedly incorrect.
[ He briefly brings his hands together, a staccato burst of applause. ]
I am always in need of someone willing to assist me with repairs to my armor. It is a complex system, of both metal and organism, and additional hands always have made light of such work. See?
[ And that is the point where he rounds the desk once more, heaving the great, dark bulk of himself elegantly and gracefully towards Gen, holding his arms out now, to allow the dog-eared young man to see the pieces of his armor that are already suffering damage. Old, filed-down chunks torn from the knuckle guards, the helm scored with both nicks and the intricate, thinly-etched mark of a Kenosian Stargazer. ]
Our paths may continue to cross, how fortunate.
[ Still sipping at his second glass of water, Gen picks up the form first to make sure the signature's in the right spot and there's nothing else that needs filling out. And once he's confirmed it, he puts the glass down so he can fold it and tuck it away into his pocket. Job complete, then.
And aside from an idle flick of the ear, he listens to what Bondrewd says in relative silent -- it would be polite if he weren't still slowly nursing his drink, deliberately giving a rude slurp when he hears that praise (?) about his new choice in jobs.
It's only when Bondrewd finishes speaking that he drains the rest of his glass, puts it down, and leans more heavily against the counter before drawling, ]
-- sweettalking me doesn't get you shit. I'm just an apprentice for now. Go waste your breath talking nice to my boss if you want a discount or something.
[ His tail sure isn't wagging any more, because -- that first little compliment he could have dismissed as a nice fluke, but nobody's this pleasant to him for this long without some sort of ulterior motive. Whether it's a teacher attempting to rein him in by treating him with simpering cowardice, or one of his father's employees trying to win him over to their side for an extra day off, there's always something at stake. He's not the type of person that others are nice to, and he knows it.
And of course, he doesn't take kindly to people he thinks are trying to take advantage of him. The counter creaks when he shifts his weight against it, and Gen cants his head to give Bondrewd a crooked smirk. ]
Or, what. You some sort of creep trying to lure people in? S'that why you put on this -- [ languidly waving a hand at Bondrewd's everything ] -- whole show in your horror movie warehouse? [ He's just spouting bullshit, deliberately making himself unpleasant, but those last words still peter off into a laugh because -- real funny. As if he'd ever fall prey to some bullshit like that. ] Nice try, but try it on someone else, instead.
And aside from an idle flick of the ear, he listens to what Bondrewd says in relative silent -- it would be polite if he weren't still slowly nursing his drink, deliberately giving a rude slurp when he hears that praise (?) about his new choice in jobs.
It's only when Bondrewd finishes speaking that he drains the rest of his glass, puts it down, and leans more heavily against the counter before drawling, ]
-- sweettalking me doesn't get you shit. I'm just an apprentice for now. Go waste your breath talking nice to my boss if you want a discount or something.
[ His tail sure isn't wagging any more, because -- that first little compliment he could have dismissed as a nice fluke, but nobody's this pleasant to him for this long without some sort of ulterior motive. Whether it's a teacher attempting to rein him in by treating him with simpering cowardice, or one of his father's employees trying to win him over to their side for an extra day off, there's always something at stake. He's not the type of person that others are nice to, and he knows it.
And of course, he doesn't take kindly to people he thinks are trying to take advantage of him. The counter creaks when he shifts his weight against it, and Gen cants his head to give Bondrewd a crooked smirk. ]
Or, what. You some sort of creep trying to lure people in? S'that why you put on this -- [ languidly waving a hand at Bondrewd's everything ] -- whole show in your horror movie warehouse? [ He's just spouting bullshit, deliberately making himself unpleasant, but those last words still peter off into a laugh because -- real funny. As if he'd ever fall prey to some bullshit like that. ] Nice try, but try it on someone else, instead.
Hm?
[ Hm? Oh. ]
Aah, I see. You must think I am trying to flatter you. You are not the first person to make such a claim.
[ Truly, Bondrewd has made a number of brows knit and lips curl already, as he speaks not in insipid praise and fawning adoration, but in experience, fact, method. Gen drawls at him, resistant to whatever perception he has developed of Bondrewd's mild 'pleasantries' and intent, while he remains utterly unaffected by the twisting tone that has been aimed in his direction. Badly, he wants to rest his hand upon this young man's head already, and ruffle the space between those dark ears; how cute they are, and how vivacious he is proving himself to be! ]
Not at all. You are free to leave, whenever you would like to. Do be sure to finish drinking your fill, before you go. I am speaking less to 'sweettalk' you, and more out of factual evidence. Many of my subordinates in the Abyss were naught but rogues before they came to the Ido Front. They were uneducated, difficult young men and women who said things similar to what you just did. Each one of them was able to change their lives, to their own satisfaction.
[ Ha ha! Aren't they cute! ]
I am only telling you what I told them, Mister Courier. You reminded me of them, very much. I loved them all, and dearly.
[ Hm? Oh. ]
Aah, I see. You must think I am trying to flatter you. You are not the first person to make such a claim.
[ Truly, Bondrewd has made a number of brows knit and lips curl already, as he speaks not in insipid praise and fawning adoration, but in experience, fact, method. Gen drawls at him, resistant to whatever perception he has developed of Bondrewd's mild 'pleasantries' and intent, while he remains utterly unaffected by the twisting tone that has been aimed in his direction. Badly, he wants to rest his hand upon this young man's head already, and ruffle the space between those dark ears; how cute they are, and how vivacious he is proving himself to be! ]
Not at all. You are free to leave, whenever you would like to. Do be sure to finish drinking your fill, before you go. I am speaking less to 'sweettalk' you, and more out of factual evidence. Many of my subordinates in the Abyss were naught but rogues before they came to the Ido Front. They were uneducated, difficult young men and women who said things similar to what you just did. Each one of them was able to change their lives, to their own satisfaction.
[ Ha ha! Aren't they cute! ]
I am only telling you what I told them, Mister Courier. You reminded me of them, very much. I loved them all, and dearly.
[ if only bondrewd had the emotions to utterly blast silco with radiant joy
alas,
he does not.
Therefore, the return is a mild, curious uptick in attentiveness and the rush of something lukewarm. It is not affection, but is definitely a bit like a universal sense of 'yay!'
Followed, of course, by a most dutiful closing of Communion in order to make the journey from his little warehouse in one corner of Kowloon to the glimmering, neon-poisonous walls of Draumhol. Where he very, very politely waits to be seen as he chats with Silco's retainer about salves he can make for those burns and injuries, poor guy. ]
alas,
he does not.
Therefore, the return is a mild, curious uptick in attentiveness and the rush of something lukewarm. It is not affection, but is definitely a bit like a universal sense of 'yay!'
Followed, of course, by a most dutiful closing of Communion in order to make the journey from his little warehouse in one corner of Kowloon to the glimmering, neon-poisonous walls of Draumhol. Where he very, very politely waits to be seen as he chats with Silco's retainer about salves he can make for those burns and injuries, poor guy. ]
[ Poor Gregór, he actually looks interested in anything Bondrewd could offer, but before he can actually get out the ask, someone rushes up, and tipped their head toward Silco's office with a "the boss is waiting", before he's ushered off. The guy looks. Uncertain.
Silco isn't exactly forthcoming with his staff, so Bondrewd is greeted with a closed door, but the staff says 'You can go on in', before resuming his post.
And when Bondrewd opens the door, not only will there be Silco there, but there's a little guy sleeping in a corner. It doesn't look unhealthy, yet, but it certainly looks what could be called "low energy" ]
Ah, Bondrewd, you were so prompt. I hear you are a fan of creatures, yes?
Silco isn't exactly forthcoming with his staff, so Bondrewd is greeted with a closed door, but the staff says 'You can go on in', before resuming his post.
And when Bondrewd opens the door, not only will there be Silco there, but there's a little guy sleeping in a corner. It doesn't look unhealthy, yet, but it certainly looks what could be called "low energy" ]
Ah, Bondrewd, you were so prompt. I hear you are a fan of creatures, yes?
[ Anyways, he grasps Gregór's upper arm firmly as they are parted, and takes his leave of Silco's retainer. Once he is given permission to enter, he opens the door to Silco's office, ducking his head below the top of the door's frame in order to enter without colliding with it. He is a large man, broad but not rounded in frame — simply armored and dressed to the teeth, if he even has any teeth.
His helm does make a nice wide sweep of Silco's office, cataloging the environment likely most personal to his benefactor, before his attention gravitates to two points: Silco, and then to the lethargic creature in the corner. ]
Good afternoon, Mister Silco. [ Always such a polite man! ] I am a fan of their presence, yes. The existence of a creature speaks much about the environment they are from, and their adaptability to foreign environments says even more about what can be done with them. That being said, pray tell me who this little one is?
His helm does make a nice wide sweep of Silco's office, cataloging the environment likely most personal to his benefactor, before his attention gravitates to two points: Silco, and then to the lethargic creature in the corner. ]
Good afternoon, Mister Silco. [ Always such a polite man! ] I am a fan of their presence, yes. The existence of a creature speaks much about the environment they are from, and their adaptability to foreign environments says even more about what can be done with them. That being said, pray tell me who this little one is?
[ Silco tipped his head to the "little" one in the corner, a pink skinned, hazy eyed, almost axolotl-like creature, it tipped its head to take stock of Bondrewd itself. Whatever it expected, Rio simply settled back down immediately, as if the man wasn't really of consequence -- or at least, not a threat. ]
Its name is Rio, at least according to an old associate of mine.
[ Old Associate, of course, held some weight. ]
I believe that this creature, may be able to help unlock the core components of a certain substance that I mentioned to you. I think that we can both prolong its life, and extract it. Or... [ He smiled, then, though it isn't pleasant. ]
Rather, I know Singed could do so. He kept it alive for decades.
Its name is Rio, at least according to an old associate of mine.
[ Old Associate, of course, held some weight. ]
I believe that this creature, may be able to help unlock the core components of a certain substance that I mentioned to you. I think that we can both prolong its life, and extract it. Or... [ He smiled, then, though it isn't pleasant. ]
Rather, I know Singed could do so. He kept it alive for decades.
Edited 2023-05-12 06:51 (UTC)
[ With Rio revealing its lethargy ( or, perhaps, it's acceptance of him? ), Bondrewd eases his mass in the direction of the funny little creature. His own tail, alight with its own cold, violet glow, sways as he bends down to rest a hand atop its flat head. A simple press of his palm upon Rio's head, before he stroked its nose gently. ]
Speaking of. Were you able to look over my report regarding my preliminary findings?
[ He does not seem to mind Silco's unpleasantness at all, as he straightens up and laces his hands behind his back. Spine as straight as possible, since there is a bulky tail likely bolted directly into his spinal column. Or what passes for a spinal column, as to mimic flesh at this time is deeply difficult. He probably didn't get to arrive with the body of the last Umbra Hand he was piloting intact, therefore is more suit than skin... ]
'Singed'. What an adorable name. Would you mind recounting his methodology of keeping Rio alive, as well? I do not know if I will have all the required materials, but I am an apt hand at adapting to my environment. I would not dream of disappointing my key benefactor, and I have never done so before.
Speaking of. Were you able to look over my report regarding my preliminary findings?
[ He does not seem to mind Silco's unpleasantness at all, as he straightens up and laces his hands behind his back. Spine as straight as possible, since there is a bulky tail likely bolted directly into his spinal column. Or what passes for a spinal column, as to mimic flesh at this time is deeply difficult. He probably didn't get to arrive with the body of the last Umbra Hand he was piloting intact, therefore is more suit than skin... ]
'Singed'. What an adorable name. Would you mind recounting his methodology of keeping Rio alive, as well? I do not know if I will have all the required materials, but I am an apt hand at adapting to my environment. I would not dream of disappointing my key benefactor, and I have never done so before.
[ Silco wonders what Singed would think, were he to hear the words "adorable" in the context of him. The man was a genius, but Silco knew that he was falling apart as surely as Silco was, the two of them slowly winding older than most Zaunites these days, and their bodies ravaged by hard lives and danger. Silco, corrupted from the River Pilt's Pollution, and Singed, corrupted by surviving an accident at the canning factory.
What had it been? He remembered fire, and aftermath, but -- That damnable hole that remained in his head, from what Birdie had taken. ]
I know very little, but I can recount some. He preserved it in fluid, once it became too sick. This is...much younger than the last time I saw it. It had been... essentially preserved, barely alive, but still there. Of course, what it was kept in...
[ Silco shrugged. ]
I'm afraid I'm no chemist or inventor. You've already opened up quite a few insights for me with your findings, in fact. I signed requisition sheets, but...
[ So he knew some materials, but... that was it. ]
There's something within Rio that should unlock the key to mass producing shimmer.
What had it been? He remembered fire, and aftermath, but -- That damnable hole that remained in his head, from what Birdie had taken. ]
I know very little, but I can recount some. He preserved it in fluid, once it became too sick. This is...much younger than the last time I saw it. It had been... essentially preserved, barely alive, but still there. Of course, what it was kept in...
[ Silco shrugged. ]
I'm afraid I'm no chemist or inventor. You've already opened up quite a few insights for me with your findings, in fact. I signed requisition sheets, but...
[ So he knew some materials, but... that was it. ]
There's something within Rio that should unlock the key to mass producing shimmer.
So, Rio is ill. Were you made aware of what illness it suffers from?
[ To need to preserve it, to prolong its life — it must be badly ailing, or damaged in a way that will eventually lead to its death. He continues to stroke its head, silently soothing it even as he discusses what he will need to do, to keep it alive. Silco has asked this of him, and as Silco funds his own research, he is quite happy to do what is asked of him. Bondrewd has no ego to speak of, and thus, no pride; there is nothing too menial, or too much, that he could be asked do to.
He gestures, curling his fingers towards his palm as though to beckon Silco closer. As if he wishes for him to touch Rio as well, and stroke its head. After all, if they are going to make use of it, they will remember it — Bondrewd will, at least. ]
Aah, Prushka would have found you so sweet, Rio.
[ An echo of calm, bleak fondness resonates within his mask. ]
Mister Silco, would you mind telling me a little about the use of Shimmer in your world?
[ To need to preserve it, to prolong its life — it must be badly ailing, or damaged in a way that will eventually lead to its death. He continues to stroke its head, silently soothing it even as he discusses what he will need to do, to keep it alive. Silco has asked this of him, and as Silco funds his own research, he is quite happy to do what is asked of him. Bondrewd has no ego to speak of, and thus, no pride; there is nothing too menial, or too much, that he could be asked do to.
He gestures, curling his fingers towards his palm as though to beckon Silco closer. As if he wishes for him to touch Rio as well, and stroke its head. After all, if they are going to make use of it, they will remember it — Bondrewd will, at least. ]
Aah, Prushka would have found you so sweet, Rio.
[ An echo of calm, bleak fondness resonates within his mask. ]
Mister Silco, would you mind telling me a little about the use of Shimmer in your world?
[ Prushka? ] Hm. Yes, Rio is ill, or rather, creatures like them don't survive long enough to get use from them, and this one has a particular mutation.
[ Silco stands, though he doesn't approach to pet it. It is utilitarian, and it has a use, but he thinks of the creature as "it" clearly. He'll let Bondrewed enjoy the thing, though he does stand closer, a lit cigar in his hands. ]
As far as I know, something that Rio here had, was worth preserving according to Singed. It was... harvested, and used for our shimmer production.
[ I'm just making this up, but the pieces are all there. Someday when I'm wrong, I'll remember this. ]
Shimmer itself is... a drug. It is addictive, not just because it makes one high, but because it... changes you. Makes the powerless powerful, stronger, faster. [ His lip curled into a slight smile. ]
I can show you the effects, if you would like.
[ Silco stands, though he doesn't approach to pet it. It is utilitarian, and it has a use, but he thinks of the creature as "it" clearly. He'll let Bondrewed enjoy the thing, though he does stand closer, a lit cigar in his hands. ]
As far as I know, something that Rio here had, was worth preserving according to Singed. It was... harvested, and used for our shimmer production.
[ I'm just making this up, but the pieces are all there. Someday when I'm wrong, I'll remember this. ]
Shimmer itself is... a drug. It is addictive, not just because it makes one high, but because it... changes you. Makes the powerless powerful, stronger, faster. [ His lip curled into a slight smile. ]
I can show you the effects, if you would like.
[ YEAH PRUSHKA
who would hide the existence of their dead daughter, silco??? ]
What a useful drug. Those who are without power will always seek it, and to bind 'power' to a substance that is addictive ensures you will always have power over them, in turn. I have made a number of illicit drugs in my tenure at the Ido Front — after all, I needed funding for my own research. Your generosity has spared me the start-up costs.
[ His Sovietcore research lab somewhere in Kowloon was bought cheap, but serves his needs. It has a lot of space, a real fixer-upper! Gently, he runs his fingers under Rio's chin and chucks it softly, as if to assure the creature that he is not there to do anything to harm it ( he will, though ), and then rises to his feet. ]
It could not hurt, to observe the effects. I would enjoy a round of subject observation, as well as a round of personal experience — if you do not mind, Mister Silco.
who would hide the existence of their dead daughter, silco??? ]
What a useful drug. Those who are without power will always seek it, and to bind 'power' to a substance that is addictive ensures you will always have power over them, in turn. I have made a number of illicit drugs in my tenure at the Ido Front — after all, I needed funding for my own research. Your generosity has spared me the start-up costs.
[ His Sovietcore research lab somewhere in Kowloon was bought cheap, but serves his needs. It has a lot of space, a real fixer-upper! Gently, he runs his fingers under Rio's chin and chucks it softly, as if to assure the creature that he is not there to do anything to harm it ( he will, though ), and then rises to his feet. ]
It could not hurt, to observe the effects. I would enjoy a round of subject observation, as well as a round of personal experience — if you do not mind, Mister Silco.
[ Silco smirked, at Bondrewd's observation. It was true, of course, that making Shimmer addictive was a move intended to keep people bound to him and his production. Without him, and without the shimmer mines, what would happen to Zaun? Not that it mattered, it was gone now, but the question was one that would have given Silco pause, had he known what would happen to him 2 days from when his world was destroyed.
As it is, he only smiled, serenely. ]
Mind? Why, I would be happy to show you. My own outpost near Ryad is always open to your visits. We are working on our own strain, but mass producing it will need more than simply... my touch, I'm afraid.
But I'm more than happy to show you the effects, should you wish to see them. Though being near Ryad would be better, I think. Shimmered individuals tend to be... a touch out of control. Most of the time, at least.
As it is, he only smiled, serenely. ]
Mind? Why, I would be happy to show you. My own outpost near Ryad is always open to your visits. We are working on our own strain, but mass producing it will need more than simply... my touch, I'm afraid.
But I'm more than happy to show you the effects, should you wish to see them. Though being near Ryad would be better, I think. Shimmered individuals tend to be... a touch out of control. Most of the time, at least.
Mr. Bondrewd. I hope you are faring well today, and that I am not interrupting. If you have but a few minutes to chat, I have a question or two for you.
[ Sebastian’s polite, warm voice comes through Communion, and with the extra connection of Stargazers his emotions are as cool and even as they usually tend to be. However. This time, there is something else, something indistinct and hard to pin down in that connection. Communion with Sebastian always just comes with a feeling of the dark (of the abyss, even—), but there’s something else in there today. It’s a low, steady undercurrent of something in that dark. It’s not something Sebastian would intentionally share. But he has his reasons for reaching out to Bondrewd of all his contacts, even knowing that he can’t quite hide his being so completely when they speak. ]
[ Sebastian’s polite, warm voice comes through Communion, and with the extra connection of Stargazers his emotions are as cool and even as they usually tend to be. However. This time, there is something else, something indistinct and hard to pin down in that connection. Communion with Sebastian always just comes with a feeling of the dark (of the abyss, even—), but there’s something else in there today. It’s a low, steady undercurrent of something in that dark. It’s not something Sebastian would intentionally share. But he has his reasons for reaching out to Bondrewd of all his contacts, even knowing that he can’t quite hide his being so completely when they speak. ]
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