(E) Traverse Town: Synthesis Workshop

[Aryn007]

Above what used to be Cid’s Accessory Shop there was a curious little attic devoted to the synthesis of items, run by even curiouser little characters called Moogles. The workshop was odd, whimsical and eclectic even as it was functional, dimly lit except for the great forge, glowing a bright, enthusiastic yellow. Colorful exhaust pipes extended to the ceiling bending and twisting in odd angles, while an electronic regulator flashed and whirred above the fire. Blue, green and purple levers and buttons shaped like stars, moons, and swirls further gave the impression of being somewhat otherworldly, yet friendly in nature.

To enter by the main entrance, one had to walk around the shop, and up the stairs which wrapped around the building. Once inside, one would be greeted by the broad side of two long counters one in front of the other covered with sketches, notes, billing transactions, receipts, and scientific observations. None of it seemed to be organized very well.

To the left was an opening in the floor which lead to the bottom level of the building by ladder. On the other side of the ladder was a pile of scrap metal, half finished projects, some dull, others shining with an odd gleam. Papers were strewn carelessly on the floor.

On the right wall were diagrams and charts indicating which different shards and materials went with what, as well as a shelf storing a few choice weapons, potions, elixirs, stones, and blacksmith puzzles.

In the corner diagonal to the main entrance was the forge, the heart and soul of the synthesis shop. The fireplace opening itself looked like it had tried to be rectangular, but couldn’t figure out just how to make the corners stand up nicely and so settle for a bent, angular shape vaguely reminiscent of a sloping roof. The structure jutted out about four feet from the wall, where weapons, tongs, bellows and other tools of the trade were situated beneath a large window. To the left of the forge was a large, shining anvil and a bucket for water and displayed amidst all of this was a large sign with a poorly drawn cumulonimbus cloud and a hammer with the words The Cloud’s Anvil proudly scrawled above the drawing.

[Bluebird]

The front door to the Synthesis Shop was thrown open in an explosion of furious energy. In stalked Zephyr, still steaming from the disaster of the First District. Ignoring the starts and stares from the moogles running the shop, she strode past them, grabbing a stool and sitting cross-legged close to the forge fire.

Her body was freezing, chilled from the cold night air and the damp jacket she was wearing. She was sure she had made quite a scene with her entrance but she didn't feel like explaining herself, not now, not outwardly at least. Unzipping her jacket, she removed the outerwear and tossed it on the floor, letting the scratches and gashes that marred her body tell her story.

She sat there in silence, willing her eyes to hold back her tears but it was a losing battle. She growled as she brought the heel of her hand to her face, a flush warming her skin knowing that the moogles had to see her in this state. She shouldn't have come here, but there wasn't anywhere else to go. She knew they'd be annoyed at her for coming in after they had explicitly sent her away, but she didn't care about any reprimanding. Zephyr just wanted to be left alone, warmed by a fire in a comfortable setting. The Aeristocrat was never as comfortable in any other place as she was inside her forge. It was as close to sanctuary as she could get.

[Bluebird]

A long time had passed since Zephyr first entered the Synthesis Shop, causing her to wonder if the moogles were really there at all. She was sure they would have asked about her by now, inquiring at her injuries and her very apparent distress. Had they all gone to lunch, or did they simply decide it best amongst themselves to leave her be? She wouldn't put it past them. She knew she could be abrasive at times, and considering the manner in which she entered the shop, she had made it clear that she wanted to be alone. Such as well. If no one was there it would explain why no one had come to their aid, considering the very loud battle that had occurred just outside their windows. Had someone been around, Zephyr would have been the first to screech and swear at them for not interfering to offer aid.

One thing was for certain, and that was whether or not moogles were present, the Aeristocrat would not confirm her suspicions by donning her goggles. If they wanted to speak with her they would. If not, then Zephyr was content being left in her own thoughts.

Leaving her stool, the winged girl went to the first aid kit, pulling out gauze wrap and some ointment. Her scratches and gashes still burned, and she needed to take care of herself before she began her next task.

A hiss left her as she spread the ointment over her wounds. It stung but left a cooling, tingling sensation that told her the magic was working. She had never known such healing tricks on her home world, unfamiliar with the kind of magic the moogles possessed. It was, simply put, remarkable. The marks the heartless had given would leave nary a scratch on her.

Wrapping the gauze around her stomach, neck, and shoulder blades, the winged girl retrieved her jacket from the floor and hung it close by the forge fire to dry. Then she went to her lockbox, grabbing some money in preparation of the plan budding in her mind.

[Era]

Cold. The atmosphere was still cold. How different it was from his home on Yorani. He watched the cold flakes of white flutter down one, then another. Yes, the weather was different than the warm autumn forest and the evening fires Reliquim had remembered, but he didn't mind it all that much.

It had been a few days since he'd come to the First District, and he seemed completely oblivious to the catastrophe outside: either oblivious or the matter was simply superfluous to him. No, Rel saw the world much like a pirate might. That is to say : it was useless where there was no mutual agreement. If he didn't benefit, why expend the effort to care?

He had done that once before, a long time ago. He could remember caring about his kind neighbors the Timbersongs, his friends, his family. He remembered the faces all too well, and although he would never admit it, they haunted him. He could find no comfort in waking with a memory plagued by what he loved that had been lost, and he could find no rest in the dream world with nightmares plagued by his failures.

Yes, once. A long, long time ago he had cared for others. And the damage their deaths had caused him was irreparable. Never, never again. The Emberfox had vowed that to himself long before.

The door swung open, a new draft of cool air twisting a flurry of powdery white snow into the entrance of the shop. A few of the flakes fell onto his fur-lined hoodie and were prompt to melt into small beads of water.

Jaded, blood-burgundy eyes peered out from beneath locks of tastefully-dissheveled silver. Head tilted ever so slightly, as if to scream that something was wrong with his character, Reliquim stared at the angel-girl inside. The position in which he held his head made his gaudy bronze collar clearly visible. "I have a problem," he watched the female with long purple hair as she dug through a box for something - munny, he assumed.

"...And I need it removed," if she were to look at him, she would probably be able to tell that his expression was off. Not quite bored, but not quite sane. Somewhere in the middle of both, with just a little creepy analytical flare thrown in to spice things up. He was handsome. He was awkward, and he was most definitely studying her.

[Bluebird]

Zephyr did not stop when she heard the door open, nor did she turn when she felt a draft enter her shop. Left to stew in her own thoughts for so long, the Aeristocrat had reached a point where any interaction with anyone was about as welcome as a misplaced strike of her hammer. The ice witch was rude and blind to Zephyr's abilities, Amelia, the summoner's name had been, was weak and insignificant, and Zidane was moronic and a fool. Even the moogles had not been spared from her irritable thoughts. The one time Zephyr wanted to complain and vent her frustrations there was no one around, and her feelings festered and grew into a black lump of rage that made her want to explode.

So when she heard someone enter the shop she made no move to acknowledge them, continuing to shift through her lockbox for the appropriate amount of funds needed for her next venture.

"I have a problem," the man said. Still, Zephyr ignored him. If the moogles were present they would answer him. If not, then he was out of luck.

"...And I need it removed."

Zephyr pursed her lips, a silent scream building inside her head at her misfortune. Really? Now? Someone needed help now? Ancestors damn her luck to find herself alone with a potential customer in the middle of the mess she was in. She needed money, she needed food, and she needed time to find the wolves that had run away from her. She did not have time to deal with anyone else's problem. Today was supposed to be her day--that's what the moogles had said. The elements had truly cursed her.

Taking the munny from the box, Zephyr went to her jacket and dumped it in her pockets.

"I'm sorry," Zephyr said, "but I'm about to head out to lunch." She made a show of throwing her jacket on to prove she was dead set on leaving. "Come back later, in an hour or so, and someone will be here to help you." That should give the moogles plenty of time.

Then she stood watching him, her eyes unfocused but pointed at the unfamiliar shape in the room as she waited for him to leave. She had the liberty of being unaffected by his pose and the odd glimmer in his eyes, but that could have been as much a hindrance as it was an asset. It all depended on what he thought of it.

[Era]

The Emberfox stared, aloof as ever, at the busybody girl as she scurried around the shop. His hands had come to rest in his pockets, doing little to help him look less lazy or standoffish.

A brow raised at her peculiar behavior - or lack thereof to be exact. Most people skirted away from him, complained at how creepy his pointed teeth were or otherwise considered him... not quite all right in the head. He knew it. He saw it in their eyes, and it bothered him because they were wrong. So very wrong; he wasn't crazy and he knew it. But no one else did.

Now waltzing into a shop, requesting the aid of someone with the cold burgundy eyes and pointed teeth and the very aura his character brought with it, it was typical for people to react. But not her. Why not her? Sharp gaze followed her while she dumped munny into her jacket pocket. Those analytical eyes watched, somewhat unaffected by her rejection and in fact more interested in her.

Why didn't she mind being in the presence of a creepy, ethereal Firefox? Yes, she was busy, but she either had a spine of steel, or something else was up. Could she see him clearly? Well, it would occupy him for the next hour to stick around and learn. Lazily Reliquim followed her out of the shop and back into the peaceful cold. "You know, if I stick with you," he pulled out a coin and played with it in bronze claws. "-then I could make a new acquaintance, and you could handle it after you eat." He was by no means a friendly fellow. Awkward, spatially clueless and quite frankly... not the type of individual one should want to hang around.

But Reliquim, the Puppet Master, well... He played a good game.

[Bluebird]

Now Zephyr was annoyed. He hadn't left at her first request, rather, waited until she was making her way out before removing himself from the shop.

She took time to lock the doors, digging in her utility belt for the key, as she was not about to let any other stranger in while the shop was supposedly empty where they could make off with their heart's content. On Tamerra, living in a small community, that wasn't necessarily the case, but Zephyr had learned that Traverse Town could obtain some questionable persons. This guy seemed all right, for the most part, if he didn't immediately pick up on her unspoken requests.

And now he was following her. Her annoyance continued to grow as he tailed her, leading him down the back alleys to the café so she could avoid anyone who had lingered from the earlier battle in the square. Despite it all, she kept a cool head. If he wanted to follow her that was his business, and he would leave as soon as he realized she did not intend on returning.

That, however, was all tossed aside when next he spoke to her.

She could hear the clink of coin on copper and her ears perked, listening to what he had to say. Stick around and make an acquaintance? Handle it after she ate? What did he mean by that? Handle it? What was "it"? Was he propositioning her? Her annoyance shifted quickly to ire, too quickly, and the next thing she knew she was throwing a wicked left hook at his jaw.

"What do you mean by that?" she shouted, quivering with rage, blind to the innocence of his words. Never did she think he could still be talking about his problem, her mind too occupied and distracted to consider the possibility. Shoot first and ask questions later, that was Zephyr.

[Era]

Reliquim's mind was far from the present, working on how to coax her back to the shop. He didn't have too many coins left, but what he had he would spare on an attempt to remove his collar, this much was decided. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew fully well that there was no chance for it to work, but his dogged persistence got in the way of understanding that concept. He wanted the blasted thing off, and he didn't want to be told 'no'. 'It'll never come off', Victoria spoke to him, nagged him. She had no intention of letting him get away with removing it, especially not before he had learned his lesson.

His head snapped to the side and he snarled back at the origin of the voice, warning it to pipe down before things got out of hand. If Zephyr had payed any mind to his action, it would have been obvious that his timing was off. He was growling at something, but It wasn't her, not that she'd have time to analyze all that before clocking him in the jaw.

And the Firefox's head turned again, this time with the impact, mind reeling back to reality with a new dose of pain. Just what was this woman thinking? A growl escaped him; it was deep and gutteral, and did not match his scrawny appearance... this seemed much, much too big to have come out of a walking toothpick.

Anger burned in his eyes, kindled suddenly, quickly, by the random turn of events: he wasn't about to let her get away with that, and a knee-jerk reaction brought sharp bronze claws to slash at Zephyr; the swift movement wasn't aimed at anything in particular, just whatever fleshy part of herself happened to be closest to him: arm, ribs, neck, a wing... he didn't care.

While it was true, he had come to her requesting her aid in the removal of his annoying collar, if she wanted to throw a punch, he'd throw one right back.

[Bluebird]

It was true, the sudden growl that came forth from the man's throat after she hit him had caught Zephyr off guard, and she only had a split second to consider her actions before he struck back, raking sharp claws down the left side of her face. In an instant she was armed, her hammer in her hand and resting beneath the man's chin. With one sharp jab she could close his windpipe, and she would do it, too. Despite the weight of the iron block her arm was steady and the hammer did not waver.

Then she started yelling at him.

"What is the matter with you!" she screamed, clearly forgetting that she was the one who had thrown the first stone. Her scratches stung, shallow as they were, and she could already feel blood seep from her parted flesh. "Do you want my help? Then get your head out of the clouds and treat me with respect."

Propositioning her like that. How rude, unless.... As Zephyr thought about it, maybe that hadn't been what he meant. He had come to her asking to solve a problem. Maybe that was what he meant by "handle it". Her eyes widened in recognition, and a blush grew to her cheeks as she realized her potential error. The position of her hammer faltered ever so slightly as she cast him a cautious glance.

"You did mean you wanted to sleep with me, right?"

[Era]

Sleep with her? Was she daft?

He had remained calm with the hammer threatening his neck; he wasn't dumb enough to try and move when the advantage was against him. He had remained calm when she yelled at him; it gave him time to think of how to make his next quick movement... but his thoughts were derailed with her question. Was she serious?

He laughed when she took his words the wrong way. It was a chuckle at first, but it escalated quickly into full-blown laughter, and in that laughter he'd temporarily thrown his cares to the wind and shown his teeth in a twisted smile. Unlike species with only sharp canines, each tooth in the Emberfox's mouth was its own jagged point. "Are you all there in that goggled head of yours?" he tapped her head with one bronze claw. "I just want this thing off," the same claw scratched once against the collar.

"I have no physical interest in you, and personally, I'd rather have lunch," the bluntness wasn't intended as an offense, though with his lack of social finesse misinterpretation wasn't out of the question. He had realized it might've been better to rephrase that sentence after saying it, but it was already too late. Now he could only wait to see what would come next: food, or a fight?