Tria 9, 81381 A black and red butterfly fluttered around Jaceen, struggling against the steady Ajita breeze. The day was hot and humid, yet the breeze was cool and welcoming. Jaceen normally hated the winds on Ajita, but today was an exception. Instead of sending a chill down her spine, the wind was simply making the heat more bearable. She would forgive it for today. Her insect friend certainly wouldn't though. Although a butterfly's flight was normally sporadic, the wind was making it even more so. It wasn't long before the butterfly gave up flight and latched itself desperately to a strand of Jaceen's long red hair. It clung on for dear life as Jaceen walked leisurely along. Jaceen smiled. Moments earlier she had been unhappy. Her mood driven into the ground by Koani. They'd had yet another argument, but what else was new? Why couldn't they just argue over the phone? It'd certainly save Jaceen some travel time. Now she had to walk out to the nearest bus stop then navigate the transit system so that she could get home. It'd probably take her hours to get back to Janardan in Watani. It seemed as if her entire afternoon, no, her entire day, had been soiled by one Koani Grader. If they weren't arguing about Jaceen's late brother, Saber (who had been Koani's husband), they were arguing about Cayson. Then if it wasn't family matters, it'd be Jaceen accusing Koani of certain atrocities. Koani had been responsible for Saber's death after all. Jaceen could sense Koani's guilt. The weather had lightened her mood considerably though. She was walking alongside the road now... large estates made up the vast majority of this neighbourhood. While Jaceen supposed that living here could be nice, she was rather fond of her small apartment. Knowing her, she'd probably stay there until she died. It was comfortable. Mix that with a hot drink and it was paradise. Every now and then a vehicle would pass her. Sometimes small personal ships would pass. Each one was an expensive make or model. It wasn't until Jaceen sensed a subtle shift in Fronima that her leisurely step came to a halt. Most pendragons wouldn't notice such a subtle shift, but Jaceen's senses were made for such a thing. Soon after she noticed the abrupt shift in Fronima, there was a loud bang and then a sputter. Jaceen's ears splayed to the side, disturbing the butterfly that had been taking up residence in her hair. It let go and began to flutter wildly around her head again. Jaceen looked to the left where the noise had come from. There was thick black smoke coming out of a contraption that looked as if it were lodged in a bush. Whatever it was, Jaceen couldn't make heads or tails of it. The arden who had set the machina off was sitting on the ground. Knocked over by the explosion perhaps? Or had he just been watching it? Jaceen was uncertain. “Hey!" she called out to him. “Are you alright? I felt that magicka surge from over here."
OoC; I started writing, and the character of Darwing just kind of.. exploded out (in a good way). :B So the intro got a little long. Average replies probably won't be quite this lengthy. BiC; It had been a morning of fine, fine plans: first this, then that, and this again, circulating neatly through the usually-forgetful inventor's skull like laundry being churned ever-so-gently in the washing machine's delicate cycle. He'd stayed in bed an extra half-hour after waking, simply plotting out his day in careful intervals. Morning grooming: five minutes. Breakfast: one hour. Leisure time: twenty minutes. Robot testing: ..as long as it takes... Partway through the planning, it had come back to him suddenly -- painfully -- how the previous day's testing had ended; when he tried to stretch his bare feet to the end of the bed in a full-body yawn, his spine began screaming like it had been right after the robot incident, and his buttocks felt freshly, agonizingly bruised. That moment had been the end of his groggily-contented day-planning. Muttering, he'd shot out of bed as if his proverbial puppet strings had been yanked on by some large, unseen being -- and he'd instantly regretted it, wincing and hunching over in pain pain pain PAIN as his back throbbed its urgent message. Once it subsided, he'd spent mere seconds pulling on a slightly musty maroon t-shirt and plain grey sweatpants, picking up his white labcoat from its hook on his way from the room. Breakfast consisted of some mushy fruit and stale toast, lasting far less that his allotted time of one hour. Leisure time was omitted completely; after remembering yesterday's violent little robot fiasco, he felt an angry -- nay, furious -- fire roaring away in his mind, belching the rancid smoke of revenge over his good judgment. He'd downed that fruit and toast in the space of a few minutes, jammed his arms through the barely-too-short sleeves of his coat, and stormed out to his spacious backyard workshop, prepared to lay down the law with that bottom-smacking piece of junk he'd been working on. Through the tall, foreboding, metal-studded door of the lab he went, cursing as he strode, until he reached another door: taller, more foreboding, studded with metal and covered in signs promising various painful consequences to tresspassers and theives. This door was clearly hiding something even better than the first. "Gardenbot 4000! Get over here at once!" he shrieked. A ponderous jumble of metal whirred forward at the pace of a dying snail. It blooped and beeped at him sourly for a while, seemingly venting frustrations, until he barked at it, "Enough! Get out into the backyard. And don't speak to me in that tone again, you great pile of scrap metal, or I'll use your sorry behind for soldering!" As it bzzzed past him slowly, one final bleep of vehemence escaped its Fronima-run circuitry, and he glared at it sharply. "You don't think I'm serious, but I am. Any more disobedience out of you and -- whammo! Some new components for my next invention. No more Gardenbot." At this latest threat, Gardenbot let off a long string of angry noises that sounded alarmingly like cursewords, and then the inventor was racing after the rattling bot with his tailflame glowing in fury. Gardenbot increased its pace exponentially in fear, letting out a mechanic squeal as it floundered out of the lab, through the overgrown backyard, along the side garden, and WHIRRR into the front yard. Scanning. Processing. Unfamiliar territory. "NO!" screamed the inventor, knowing that the bot would overload its gears with that burst of speed, heating up its engine to a potentially-explosive temperature. Either that, or the anti-theft hardware present in all of his inventions would sense an unknown territory and automatically self-destruct (effectively stopping thieves from taking his precious inventions any further). Whichever fiery end came first, it wouldn't be pretty. That was why he had to stop it, had to catch it and deactivate it and carry it back to his lab, where a nice thick chain was waiting to restrain it -- as he ran, he was already picturing it. But it was too late. BLAM. For the second time in two days, the frazzled inventor was thrown backwards onto his sore rump and spine, his face and coat singed, the smell of burnt hair in the air and a pile of scrap metal before him. He gritted his teeth in agony, lips curled back and eyes bulging. "GARDENBOT!" escaped his clenched jaw in a whiny squeal, and despite his intense pain he managed to drag himself forward and bang on the metal with one clenched fist. A wisp of smoke trailed into the air as his fur came into contact with the searing metal, and he pulled away quickly. Gardenbot, Gardenbot, Gardenbot... "Are you alright? I felt that magicka surge from over here." He swivelled towards the voice raggedly, his breath coming in and out in short, vicious spurts. What -- who -- it appeared to be a little girl. With a butterfly? "You're darn right there was a magicka surge, little girl. Now whaddaya want for noticing, a medal? Get outta here. This is top secret experimentation. And you've ruined it, too. This is all your fault. Gardenbot is -- is -- dead..." And Darwing Lerepton, inventor of the very rich and mildly famous sort, arden of fifty-nine years, experienced man of the world, undeniably genius... broke down and sobbed like a little boy in his front yard, trying to cradle the burning-hot remains of his latest robot child.
ooc - Explosions of inspiration are awesome. :] I don't mind the length at all. Darwing seems like quite the character. “You're darn right there was a magicka surge, little girl. Now whaddaya want for noticing, a medal? Get outta here. This is top secret experimentation. And you've ruined it, too. This is all your fault. Gardenbot is -- is – dead..." Someone certainly was in a sour mood. Although Jaceen supposed that if something that she had put a lot of work into simply went and blew up, she would probably be upset as well. Understandable? Sure it was. Instead of brushing himself off and continuing on though, the kiom started sobbing over the charred remains of his... Gardenbot as he had called it. The fact that he had called her a little girl amused Jaceen a great deal. It was something that happened to her quite frequently. Both because of her smaller stature, as well as her bright colourations. Generally though, she was mistaken for one of her students... and not just simply a little girl. The first day of a new semester with a new class was always amusing. One of her most memorable moments was when classes had just started for the semester. A young arden had approached her and had chatted her up. Until the arden had been nudged by his friend and received the whisper: “Dude, that's our teacher." Profuse apologies and red cheeks soon after followed. Jaceen's butterfly again alighted itself upon her hair. This time perching near her right ear where it assumed the role of a living barrette. Jaceen took a hard look at the guy with his broken machina – after all, she had single-handedly caused the surge. This fellow's misfortune was all her fault. Right. It was then that she realized just who this guy was. Darwing Lerepton. He didn't exactly look like he did in the few photos that she had seen of him. First of all... he wasn't exactly smiling. Second of all, now that she was thinking about it, those photos were likely doctored. Perhaps he wasn't the most esteemed inventor around. A few of Jaceen's colleagues simply thought of him as a hack and a sell-out. Had Jaceen been less reticent, her next choice of words might have been haughty. However, Darwing's blind and misdirected frustration hadn't ruffled her at all. “From what I can tell, your Gardenbot's demise is no one's fault by your own. To put it succinctly." Jaceen said, her tone steady and rational. She absently pushed up her sleeves. She was wearing a light off-white blouse that must have been at least two sizes too big for her (and really ought to be ironed), as well as a simple pair of black slacks. For a time, Jaceen wavered. She wasn't sure if she should leave the man alone, or try to assist him somehow. What she did know was that she wasn't about to take one step onto Lerepton's property. If his Gardenbot had exploded, what's to say that anything else around his place wouldn't? Still, there was something about a grown arden being that upset that tugged at her heartstrings and kept her from leaving. “You know," she began, ultimately steeling herself for the rejection that was sure to come. “Perhaps I could help you out. One thing that I teach at Janardan is the ins and outs of Fronima. Not to ah, belittle your abilities at all. I just think that what just happened was highly preventable."
Darwing crouched over the lightly-smoking remains of Gardenbot, inspecting the blackened lawn and warped frame of his robot weepily. All he'd ever wanted for Gardenbot was a little artificial intelligence, something to allow it better flower-arranging capabilities, but look what he'd done. He'd betrayed its mechanical trust, and then it had died before he could apologize. It was unspeakably sad, he thought, snuffling dejectedly and pawing through the remains. He couldn't touch any of the metal surfaces too long, or its heat would begin to singe his delicated fur. Oh, poor, poor Gardenbot, poor -- wait, the little girl was talking again. And that butterfly.. Darwing hated butterflies. Far too flittery and leggy for him; things with more than one pair of legs were icky. "Well, of course it was highly preventable, but it was far from being my fault," Darwing snapped at the girl irately through his tears, still attempting to touch the burning-hot shell. "If Gardenbot hadn't tried to run away -- look, it was either his gears overloading with effort, or his genius anti-theft hardware activating self-destruction. But it wasn't because of any Fronima-related faults on my behalf!" He glowered at the girl momentarily, but then something seemed to strike him as odd: his nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed, and his tone of voice switched to something like suspicion. "Little girl, how exactly did you manage to secure a teaching job at Janardan? You couldn't possibly be old enough to have reached the rank of Journeyman in.. Fronima-blah blah, whatever you say you teach." He glared a moment longer, but his scowl was beginning to falter. After all, maybe he should've given Gardenbot a sturdier motor... But how was he to know that a little gardening robot would ever need to go so fast? It was positively and undeniably not his fault, whatever the girl said. And now that confounded butterfly (oh, how the blame can fly when one is angry) was landing on her hair, by her ear. Bitterly, he added, "And there's a crawly insect thing trying to get into your ear, in case you hadn't noticed. I would squash it." And he pantomimed crushing the thing against his own head, smacking it so that the goggles on his head nestled further into his mass of frizzy grey hair. "Quick." He paused, sighed, wiped away a dramatic tear, and turned to her again. "Well, do you plan on simply standing there? You -- who probably caused this whole fiasco in some abstract sort of way -- can help me after all. Just.. hold on a moment. I'll be right back. Don't leave. But.. get rid of the butterfly, maybe. It has too many legs," he sniffed, easing his creaky old back into a standing position. He hobbled away, into the side garden, and began rummaging about for the hose. Mumbling as he went, Darwing crouched and peered through various clumps of overgrown plants, squinting for green against green as he searched. "Aha!" He returned a moment later, dragging the gardening hose in one hand. "Here you are, little girl. Hold onto this -- tight -- and aim it at the.. at poor departed Gardenbot. And then I'll go turn on the water. We have to cool him off before we can carry him inside. Those parts are beyond repair anyway; it doesn't matter what happens to them anymore. But here -- I'm getting ahead of myself. Take the hose." And he held it out expectantly, waving it at her. How quickly it goes from 'I' to 'we' as soon as there is cleaning to be done.
ooc - This is so amusing, lol. It hadn't been outright rejection that Jaceen had received. Which was surprising given how Darwing had first been reacting to the loss of his poor robot. “Well, of course it was highly preventable, but it was far from being my fault. If Gardenbot hadn't tried to run away -- look, it was either his gears overloading with effort, or his genius anti-theft hardware activating self-destruction. But it wasn't because of any Fronima-related faults on my behalf!" Oh, denial. Jaceen was familiar with that. “Mhm," she smiled and nodded accordingly. Not really seeing the point in arguing. Maybe it hadn't been a magicka fault. Maybe it had been. She wasn't about to conduct a full scale investigation just to see what had exactly went wrong. Although she was sure, that if she tried, she could track down just what had pushed the machina over its threshold. Fronima always left remnants. Little traces of what had once been. It was like a puzzle with a bunch of tiny little pieces... put them together and you had a story. Much like Jaceen's much favoured subject: history. A string of events... strung together. Likewise telling stories. “Little girl, how exactly did you manage to secure a teaching job at Janardan? You couldn't possibly be old enough to have reached the rank of Journeyman in.. Fronima-blah blah, whatever you say you teach." Again he was calling her a little girl. Jaceen grinned at this. Her blank eyes gaining an amused twinkle. Not old enough to even have a Journeyman rank? How young was he assuming that she was? She held in a giggle. It lay trapped in her throat, causing her to remain silent until it subsided. It would be impolite to laugh. Specially since Darwing wouldn't know exactly what she would be laughing at. From there, Darwing switched his attention to her butterfly. Jaceen attempted to look at it as well, but could only see the edge of one red and black wing due to its position on her hair. So it was on her. Clinging to her hair rather contentedly. Darwing was suggesting that she squish it. Put the poor bug out of its misery... and probably prevent it from laying eggs in her ear or something. "Quick." Jaceen was anything but quick to act though. In fact, she was being deliberately slow. What did this guy have against insects? “Right, right. I'm the one who caused all of this. Somehow... must have been that blade of grass or something I stepped on a while back," she murmured, more so to herself than Darwing. Apparently he wasn't going to chase her off. In fact, he was already expecting her to help him out. She had offered, hadn't she? Jaceen felt like she'd be regretting that offer pretty soon. She cast a glance up at the sun. Koani had already muddled her day up once. What was a little more wasted time? Holding her breath, Jaceen vacated the street and stepped onto Darwing's lawn. When she didn't immediately explode, she relaxed slightly. She then stole closer to the machina's deathbed. It looked much worse from up close. Apparently the arden planned to douse the Gardenbot with water, thereby cooling down the heap of scrap metal. It seemed like a reasonable enough plan. Whether or not the machina was still holding some sort of charge though was the question. It could react badly to the water. Jaceen supposed she had a much better chance of warding off that sort of recoil than Darwing did. She dealt with that sort of thing on a daily basis. Capping her student's power intake as well as output so that they wouldn't destroy the school, or quite possibly themselves. Jaceen took the hose that Darwing was waving at her with her left hand. Then with her right hand, she reached up to the butterfly. “Later, fellah," she whispered to it before grabbing the butterfly between her thumb and forefinger. She squeezed its body gently, and then the butterfly dissolved into a curly wisp of black and red smoke. With that business taken care of, Jaceen took hold of the hose with both of her hands and positioned it over the late Gardenbot. “I'm a Historian, actually." Jaceen said while adjusting her grip on the hose. “I wouldn't let my appearance fool you either. I'm quite a bit older than I look. Working with Fronima comes quite naturally to me in a way... it definitely helps when I'm deciphering ancient texts that are infused with magicka... and avoiding certain traps, curses. Hn, now I'm the one who's getting ahead of myself. My name's Jaceen. Jaceen Lapices."
OoC; Oh, I know. xD Jaceen's very patient. And I love playing eccentric characters; they're the most fun. :3 BiC; As he began to move to the garden to get the hose, he thought he heard her speaking again. “Right, right. I'm the one who caused all of this. Somehow... must have been that blade of grass or something I stepped on a while back." Darwing caught about half of this -- mostly the 'I'm the one who caused all of this. Somehow...' part -- and swivelled his head toward her, nodding. He no longer seemed particularly angry at her, but as far as he knew, she was an innocent young child who might have not known her full power, a kid incapable of controlling herself. So he drew a breath, formed a quick explanation in his mind, and then began nodding again. By then, his first breath had expired, so he drew another quick breath, went over the reply once more in his mind, and began to speak. "You and your fancy-pants Fronima magicka something something, you probably caused your so-called surge, flinging poor Gardenbot into a confused state of overload. Then he tried to run away, because he was so confused that he couldn't see I was only trying to help, and the moment he exited the proporty, the anti-theft hardware.. well, it went boom, to put it in terms a little girl would understand." He nodded a third time, frowning slightly but without blame or anger. "And there you have it." He was a little surprised when he returned with the hose and she hadn't run off; he'd been expecting to find neither hide nor hair of her when he returned. And yet, there she was, inspecting poor, poor Gardenbot where it lay on the smoky grey-black lawn, probably indulging some morbid curiosity for departed machina. Darwing was even more surprised, however, when Jaceen actually took the hose from him willingly. Something between 'smile' and 'grimace' might have flitted across his face at that moment, but he wasn't sure -- it could have just been another muscle twitch. "Later, fellah." And he watched as she carefully squeezed the bug between finger and thumb, and he felt a more genuine (but still probably creepy) smile tug at his face. "You took my advice. That's good. I am very knowledgeable, after all. I am a Master of my trades," he said, a touch of smugness tinting his words. "Inventing and technical engineering, yes." "I'm a Historian, actually. I wouldn't let my appearance fool you either. I'm quite a bit older than I look. Working with Fronima comes quite naturally to me in a way... it definitely helps when I'm deciphering ancient texts that are infused with magicka... and avoiding certain traps, curses. Hn, now I'm the one who's getting ahead of myself. My name's Jaceen. Jaceen Lapices." When she began speaking, Darwing found himself smiling again (the feeling was so odd), the kind of smile given to three-year-olds who claim their crayon scribbles are writing. He could feel his head bobbing as she spoke, yes, yes, traps and magicka, you say. He was about to reply with, "Well, little girl, you have quite the imagination," when she introduced herself. Jaceen. Jaceen Lapices. Hm? Something about that name niggled at his mind, and he decided that he wouldn't call her a little girl again. But.. that name.. "Ah, Jaceen. You may call me Mr. Lerepton. Wait a moment, did you say Lapices? Like Saber.." And the sudden realize spread across his face, eyes widening and mouth forming a perfect little 'o' of shock. "Lapices, like Saber. The Grader-lady's hubby. So you're -- you're that Jaceen? Well, then you're not a little girl after all. My apologies. You should have spoken up, though, you know. And maybe it would be better if you called me Darwing, instead of Mr. Lerepton." But that was enough of that. He pivoted and once again made his way into the garden, wincing every once in a while as he walked (his back was still throbbing). This time, he following the winding, snaking green of the hose to find its source, crouched down next to it, and with a quick, "Are you ready? I'm turning it on now," yelled back to Jaceen, he twisted the knob to full blast and stood once more. He could imagine how the hot metal would react to the water -- he'd seen his fair share of explosions, after all -- the first blast sending billows of steam into the sky like a second explosion. For a moment, it occured to him that he might be bothering his neighbors again, but he brushed the thought away impatiently, as if it were a pesky fly, and started back out of the side garden once again.
ooc – XD He sure is a strange one. Though, be forewarned. Jaceen's patience does surprising have a limit. :P “...to put it in terms a little girl would understand." There it was again. Little girl. Was this how adults usually treated their children? Like little naive creatures who have no idea as to what to real world was like? Although she was child-free herself – her kids were her students. Jaceen genuinely hoped that she didn't treat them like that. Sometimes that “innocence" spawned the most profound conversations with youngsters. Regardless, she made a mental note to listen to her own words next time she was talking to a student. She hoped she didn't sound nearly as patronizing as Darwing was being with her. The fact that he had further fabricated a false explanation in order to put the blame on her was rather appalling. She'd lightly bit her tongue in response. Should she point out the obvious flaws in his story? It seemed as if he had backed her into a corner. To disagree would be... to what? He hadn't been too happy about her implying that his machina's demise had been his own fault. Wasn't ignorance supposed to be bliss? This made her wonder just how much of the information in Darwing's books had been fabricated as well. How much fact and how much fiction? “And there you have it." Then he had the audacity to further boost his ego. His advice? Master ranks? She was sure he was skilled in one manner or another, but to flaunt? And in front of someone who he thought was simply a “little girl?" It did take a little mettle on her part not to leave right there and then. Even Koani, given her position, had never exercised this sort of demeaning attitude toward her. Then again, despite disputes, the spiked Grader had always treated her as an equal of sorts. The butterfly wasn't “real" anyway. At least in the truest sense of the word. It was just a projected fabrication of Jaceen's mind. An illusion made so delicately and woven together that it mimicked real life. Jaceen also found it comforting. The fact that Darwing had wanted it dead had rubbed her the wrong way. Of course, he saw it as nothing but a simple bug. Not the wonder that it really was. He just didn't know. At least this “little girl" nonsense seemed like it just might come to a stop. For a moment she felt as if he were going to dispute her introduction. Little girls can't be Historians of course. Why would a little girl want to pretend to be one anyway? It seemed boring after all. She visibly tensed while awaiting Lerepton's response. If he decided to dispute her, in the back of Jaceen's mind she was toying with the idea of attempting to get her butterfly to crawl up the inventor's nose. Wouldn't that be a sight to see? “Ah, Jaceen. You may call me Mr. Lerepton. Wait a moment, did you say Lapices? Like Saber..." Saber! Well, it looked as if Darwing wasn't going to get a bug up the nose after all. Unless of course he had something not nice to say about her brother... “Lapices, like Saber. The Grader-lady's hubby. So you're -- you're that Jaceen? Well, then you're not a little girl after all. My apologies. You should have spoken up, though, you know. And maybe it would be better if you called me Darwing, instead of Mr. Lerepton." “Saber was my older brother, yes," she confirmed. “I do hope people don't know of him simply because he was married to... her." In a way, Saber had been as much of an eccentric kook as Lerepton was. Only his passion hadn't been with inventing things. It had been with the stars... and Koani. Jaceen still didn't understand what they had seen in each other. They'd been from opposite ends of the spectrum. It didn't seem right. “Apology accepted. I haven't been, nor felt like a little girl in quite some time now. As amusing as that was... I..." She'd wanted to say something about Darwing's accusations as well as his assumptions... yet Jaceen couldn't bring herself to do it. Hopefully she just wouldn't be subjected to his patronizing tone of voice now that the misconceptions had been cleared up. He hadn't left her any room to further expand on her thoughts. Instead he had returned to the hose's faucet. One track mind? For sure. Was she ready for the blast of water? Of course she was... although he hadn't exactly waited for her confirmation before turning the water on at full tilt. Jaceen felt the hose jerk in her hands. It wasn't a particularly large hose by any means, so she was in no danger of losing control of it. There was a hiss and a few gurgling noises before the hose erupted. When the cool water met with the hot remains of the machina, a large billowing cloud of steam formed. If she hadn't been prepared for it, Jaceen quite likely would have been burnt from the hot steam as Ajita's winds blew it toward her. Redirect it. A small gesture on her part caused the steam to stop several feet in front of her and continue to billow uniformly upwards instead of dangerously outwards. “So, Darwing, does this happen often?" she asked, speaking with tongue in cheek.
Darwing watched for the cloud of steam that he knew would rise above the tall plants and hedges in the side garden, expectantly awaiting the soft billows of fluff. After a moment, he began picking his way back out of the garden, one hand braced against his aching lower back and the other held out in front to catch him if he fell. Step one, step two -- this 'getting old' business was not his cup of tea, no. Too much ache and stiffness and, ugh, lower back problems. He carefully placed each step between the tangles of overgrown plant and uneven cobblestone, ever so cautious because getting back up wasn't quite as easy as it used to be. Once he reached the thill on the front lawn, he straightened his posture slightly and smiled at her, the sun glinting off his slightly-yellowed teeth moistly. He'd heard her saying something about her brother before he'd ventured back into the jungle that was his garden, something along the lines of "I do hope people don't know of him simply because he was married to... her." And he picked up on that little hesitation between the words 'to' and 'her,' and he nodded gravely. "No, no, don't worry. I also know he died heroically, though I'm not certain exactly how." He paused, frowning, but couldn't think of anything more to say. "So, Darwing, does this happen often?" "Why, yes, I'm often uncertain of what to say next. See, I don't spend much time amongst other people -- they're usually far too disagreeable, and they don't obey me like most of my inventions do..." He trailed off again, thinking, and then he realized that she'd been referring to the explosion, not the silence. "Explosions happen .. eh, about every month or so. Sometimes twice a month, if I'm not careful enough. But it's the wiring, not the Fronima. Maybe.. maybe..." He shook his head to himself impatiently. Preposterous. Preposterous. She wouldn't teach me about her Fronima blah-blah even if I asked now. I've already refused her once. And besides, what if the Fronima isn't even the problem? What if I just need better parts? I do recycle a lot, after all, and those parts wear out over time. Maybe it's their fault... But he knew, despite that prideful part of his brain that was trying to tell him otherwise; he knew his problem lay with the Fronima-related aspects of his inventions, and he knew that he couldn't put up with explosions the way he could when he was younger. He had to learn. Darwing had to know more about Fronima and safely operating with it, and here was a willing teacher that had fairly fallen into his lap. "It's a deal!" he said aloud. A moment later he blinked in confusion at himself, turned to Jaceen, and said, "What I mean is, I'd really appreciate some.. some..." There was that pride again, catching in his throat. "If you're still willing to tutor me in Fronima, I'd gratefully accept your lessons." And then he smiled, lips pulled back with only mild discomfort to reveal his shiny old fangs. "And I could pay you back in ... anything, really. Money, or stuff, or.. whatever. I have a lot to give, after all my years as an inventor." He felt an immediate relief after saying it, knowing that maybe he'd be able to skip the period of invention-testing that usually left him charred and smoldering. Maybe he'd be able to just get right to the safe testing now. And he'd finally be able to bend Fronima to his will. Oh, that would be sweet.
Was she a magnet for the abnormal? It was no wonder that Jaceen regularly lost herself amongst her books. The real world was a scary thing. At least books were predictable. To some extent. If you ruled out the books wrapped in enchantments. The fact that explosions happened at Darwing's place quite frequently came as no surprise to her. She'd gained some insight into his character now and could tell that the arden was being truthful. It was pure recklessness. “Sometimes twice a month, if I'm not careful enough. But it's the wiring, not the Fronima. Maybe.. maybe..." How had he managed to survive so long without blowing himself up? Sheer dumb luck? Jaceen frowned, although her pelt remained bright, sunny, and glaringly yellow. She couldn't understand how he kept his practise open. His research lab, as far as she could tell, was a dangerous place. Located in a residential, somewhat mountainous, area no less. What if there was a big explosion? There could be landslides. Untold destruction. Jaceen really didn't want to think about that. She just wanted to leave. The steam from the busted up robot was finally starting to abate. The hiss had died down. Now it was no longer roaring like an enraged beast, but seething forebodingly like a startled tmuka. Waiting to strike... and strike it did. “It's a deal!" Jaceen blinked and looked at the inventor, completely oblivious to whatever unspoken “deal" she had just made with him. “What I mean is, I'd really appreciate some.. some... If you're still willing to tutor me in Fronima, I'd gratefully accept your lessons. And I could pay you back in ... anything, really. Money, or stuff, or.. whatever. I have a lot to give, after all my years as an inventor." Previously Jaceen had been wearing an expression of mild fear mixed in with agitation. Now her pupil-less eyes grew wide. Somehow, she managed to smile. Yet her eyes had fixed themselves into an incredulous stare. She'd heard him correctly. She didn't doubt her ears. He wanted her to tutor him. “Er... ah," she stammered. She'd offered to help him clean up his mess but had only gotten herself entangled in an even bigger one. Messes travelled in packs, she surmised. “I'm not really sure if that would work out. Not that I'm um... eh. I've already got a tight schedule as it is. I don't think I'd be able to make time for private tutoring. Maybe if you came in to Janardan though? You could sit in on some classes."
