********************
Timemi 'Metal Witch'
Some fires are hard to put out.
I read that once in my great-grandfather's journal. As a wee kid, I didn't understand what he meant. Now, however, upon this cliff face overreaching onto the waters of the only sea, I do. The... monster that has been chasing us has been relentless.
It is a fire that refuses to die.
All we can do is run.
It is an insane flame. A creature motivated by two wills at once, and yet, both want to kill us four. It's only that they are different in how they want us to die. One wants us to be burned to ash, while the other wants to cover us in the silvery flames, converting our souls to the Mother Below.
I scan the waters with my eyes, seeing just how endless they appear to be from here. I've never seen the true Endless, however. The ocean that goes and goes until it never stops. However, no one has ever managed to venture out more than fifty miles deep and return. There are rumors that Desolation returned from those depths, but even my fathers thinks they are only that, rumors. What the humans call Lawless Lake is grand, with water stretching beyond the naked eye, even that of an Angel.
Nevertheless, my mind strains to do anything but think of my great-grandfather's words. He always loved to ramble about any random thing he could. This one stuck with me for some reason.
"Timi, some flames are to be put out. Some can be easily trampled underfoot, with no threat to any at all. Yet... there are some... some flames have souls, hearts, unyielding purpose. They have no reasons other than to burn, yet they burn nonetheless. Some simply refuse to die for no other reason than to do so. Spite is one of the most powerful motivators. Find something. And rise in spite of it."
I don't think he was being literal with his words. My great-grandfather was known for his ability to manipulate heat and flame. He tried to teach me a lesson, one that I didn't understand all the way back then.
Behind me, the black and silver fire of the relentless pursuer casts a haunting glow on the rocky terrain. We thought we had extinguished it once, but it emerged more vibrant, more dangerous. Now, with the three around me looking to me for guidance, I find myself standing on the precipice of a decision.
The cliff looms ahead, and the sea roars beneath, its waves crashing against jagged rocks. There's a desperation in the air as my companions plead for direction. Even the cold bitch is, finding it in her to ask me for help. I hardly notice their cries, but I respond nonetheless. The wind whistles through my ears as I sprint towards the cliff's edge, my heart pounding in sync with each footfall.
Without hesitation, I raise my voice above the tumultuous wind, commanding them to leap into the water. A collective gasp follows my order, but they trust in my judgment. As they take the plunge, I accelerate towards the edge, embracing the imminent freefall.
The rush of air engulfs me as I dive headlong into the abyss. The sea rises to meet me, and I brace for the impact. The fall is long, but I hardly pay attention as a wave of heat flows above me. Glancing up, I find an ocean of flame above us to match the one below, grazing only the top of Bemola's hair.
Closing my eyes, I ignore the heat and seek the bottom. Quickly, my hopes are answered. The cold embrace of the water surrounds me, momentarily separating me from the fiery pursuer above.
Beneath the surface, I kick and swim, leading the three behind me deeper into the sea. As we regroup in the water, I steal a glance back at the cliff's edge, half-expecting to see the relentless flames extinguished. Yet, the black and silver glow persists, flickering in the distance atop the cliff like a malevolent beacon.
I know our escape is only a temporary respite. The fire with a soul will persist, unyielding in its pursuit. Bemola catches up with Anodra, Natos, and I, forming a raft of ice we all climb onto.
Natos rolls onto his back on the ice, placing his burns against the cool surface as Bemola does the same. I spare them only a minor glimmer of attention as the remainder rests upon the living flame. Anodra collapses, our bulwark of a Nahullo unable to keep moving any longer.
I don't mock any of them. I once would have—but not anymore. That monster...
It gives me shivers despite the heat still radiating into my bones. A sigh of relief enters me as the ice pushes us further away, and I extricate some metal from my veins to create a row. Still watching the monster, I place the metal pole with a flat end into the water, waving it to move us away.
But as we make more distance from the cliff, I find the creature backpedaling from the edge slightly. Not enough to fade from view, only sufficiently far to get a... running start?
The curiosity in my mind is burnt away in an instant as the creature leaps off the cliff's edge, an inferno at its back. The two wings, one of silver and one of black fire, wrinkle in the air like a pair of lungs as my eyes widen in genuine horror.
"Take a row and help! It's still coming!"
The other three react with groans, barely able to move. I force Natos into action with a kick to his groin and a row in his hand. Bemola acts on her own, taking a row while Anodra stumbles to her feet on the slippery ice. I share a glance with her before handing her a row, too, whispering into her ear.
"Don't kill yourself."
The warning is authentic. I don't want an ally to kill themselves from exhaustion, but Anodra's eyes widen in surprise. I ignore her inquisitive gaze and turn back to the raft.
"Row faster!"
I scream at the top of my lungs while hefting all the force I can into the water. I'd use my Ether to push us, but I don't think it'd do very much. I'm not an 'emitter' by any stretch of the imagination. Father always called me a 'controller' instead.
The categories of talent that we Pygmies have come up with make far more sense than the human's broad 'resonance' that they adhere to. Not that we'll change their minds. It's way better for us if they had no clue what the hell they're talking about.
Natos is the closest thing our squad of four has to an emitter, but he forces light out of his limbs. That doesn't carry much mass. It carries a little due to the heat and all, but not enough to propel us. Bemola is actually, like me, a controller. The ice she makes comes from the water in the air, freezing it to become solid while condensing it.
So, we're stuck paddling the icy raft through the water as the monster flies toward us. At least it doesn't seem to know how the hell its wings work. That, or just as the two sides fight for dominance, they are struggling to fly together. I'm not sure which is the case, but I'm just thankful it's not jetting toward us like it did before on land.
While we bear the weight of our advance on our own bodies, Bemola calls out to me, her voice loud enough to reach beyond the distant flame and roaring waves.
"What's the play here, Timemi? Go until we exhaust?"
I shake my head, glancing at the Shattered Flame and then back into the horizon.
"No! It seems afraid of the water! We'll lead it to Kingstown and hide inside among the humans! We're all quite humanoid, after all! I also have dyes to change our skin color, and hats can hide horns! I'll just... be short."
Bemola raises an eyebrow at my explanation, still unsure of what I mean. Despite her confusion, she still paddles increasingly, hefting her Angelic strength.
"What do you mean!? What's the point of that!?"
I stifle my own laughter. These demons... they know so little about humans. How could they ever expect to kill them all if they don't do their research?
The second strongest human, or I suppose he's now the strongest human after the Prime's ascension, lives within Kingstown most of the year. If he isn't raiding, which he just finished before we left, he's stationed there.
And among all the creatures of the world, when it comes to water...
Heh...
He's called the Sea's Shadow for a reason.
It's no wonder why Vincent Harvey left the Outlaw alone between his Ocean's Tempo upon his hip, the floating island of a beast, and the man himself. I have no doubt the strongest mortal could have ended him, but it would not have been without repercussions. Many would have died between their battle, likely spanning multiple islands and leaving behind relentless storms.
Hundreds of thousands at least would have died between their clash, a far greater number than those the Virtue would kill should he be left alone to his own devices. A clever move made by the Prime. He even leveraged the strength difference over the man, forcing him to make concessions.
Had Desolation not taken Maddox Adkins under his wing, my father would have. There were already plans in place to give him another wife, my elder sister, but those backfired after Vincent made his move.
"Maddox Adkins is there! His prowess will be enough to douse any flame! We just can't get caught by him or this... thing! So, fucking row! Act as if your queen ordered it herself, dammit!"
Bemola nods at me, a slight flush on her cheeks as she seems embarrassed. Odd. I didn't know demons could feel shame. Perhaps she is angry. Doesn't matter.
We need to fucking row before this wobbly flyer catches us.
*************************
Earl 'Miraclemaker' Garner
The candlelight flickers in the small workshop, casting dancing shadows on the intricate design of the Skybane prosthetic I tirelessly craft. I can't have any electricity or oil lamps in here. The two can interfere with the preciseness of my work. Only the feeble light of candles doesn't.
My eyes scan over the arm I've made. It's so brilliant silver, it is almost white. Skybane... the same material forged into the bullets of Fate Sealer. Not there are many of the original ones left, anyway. It comes from so deep in the earth that it's said bringing it under sunlight bestows great power.
Of course, that is false. It is simply a material so densely swarmed with Ether that I'm surprised it doesn't have its own Sigil. Capable of deflecting even the force of cannons, I can't help but shiver in excitement, though that exhilaration quickly fades into a coughing fit.
Fatigue has settled into every fiber of my being, but the image of Wyatt keeps me forging ahead. I believe in Wyatt's survival, a belief that fuels the surety that he will need a replacement for his lost limb. There is no way he doesn't need a new one. And so, I've put my all these past few days into getting a chunk of Skybane large enough to do so.
Nevertheless, my hands tremble from exhaustion, my eyes heavy with weariness, yet the unfinished prosthetic demands my attention.
The city's owner, Canyon, extracted a heavy toll for this Skybane I've coveted so much. I toiled endlessly for him and his guards, trading my labor for the precious metal. I made over a dozen Coils and two Storms for them while also dumbing the latter down enough that anyone could use it. The struggle to acquire it was as challenging as the meticulous craftsmanship now before me.
Not that I've gone very far in its craftsmanship, though. All I've done is manipulate the hunk of Skybane into small, intricate parts that resemble scales. Then, I coordinated the 'scales' together to form the outside of the arm. The fingers were the most strenuous part—nimble but tense, tough but dextrous.
There is a balance to it all.
A balance I only want to make more perfect, but my fingers mock me—just a bit more. I want to inlay the scythe blade into the arm. Oh, and place tiny knives into fingernails. Wyatt fights with the Bloody Palm like his nails are blades, so it will be better if both arms are like that.
With determination etched across my face, I steady my hands through sheer force of will. The Skybane yields reluctantly, taking shape under the careful strokes of my tools and my precise Ether. Each detail, from the intricate gears inside the scales to the delicate joints, speaks of a promise—a promise to provide my friend with a second chance, a new beginning. I will forever owe him after what I did so long ago—not just attaching the Bloody Palm to him. After that. I betrayed him. I betrayed his trust after all he did for us.
My hands move with a grace born from passion and purpose. Of promise and redemption. As the prosthetic takes form, I envision my friend wearing it proudly, overcoming the challenges of the wasteland. But that vision quickly grows far too real for my liking. Wyatt runs at me with joy, his arms waving in the sky.
I smile at him, but before I can raise the prosthetic, a shout wakes me from my dream.
"Earl! Earl! Wake up, dammit!"
A slap to the back of my neck jolts me up and out of my seat.
"What!? Oh, Primrose. What's happening?"
Primrose, standing beside my half-circle desk, clutches one hand to her hip while the other stays behind her ominously. The woman glares right at me as she points outside.
"Don't 'oh, Primrose,' me! Remember our date!? You promised you'd be ready!"
Ice chills my veins, and water washes over my face as I stare at her.
Oh fuck. Is it already Monday? No... it was just Saturday morning, an hour ago. I twist my head, finding the city outside shrouded in shadows. Then, my eyes shift to the Skybane arm, only partially formed.
Double fuck.
"Hey... I thought that was tomorrow. Was it really today? Give me a second, and we can go."
Primrose taps her foot on the floor of my workshop, slamming her... heels against some iron shavings. Oh...
"It was two hours ago. Johnny managed to get us a meal from Canyon's personal chef, remember? I knew you would be at least a little late because of this... I waited for you, expecting you to come, but you never showed. So..."
Oh... I didn't mean to... I can see the hurt in her eyes. Ever since Wyatt went missing, we've spent way more time together. She's been... comforting in her demandingness. Primrose provides me a sense of security, I suppose. Comfort, even, despite the ferocity she shows.
"I'm sorry. I was just..."
But right as I expect to get my ear chewed out and be dragged out of my chair, Primrose flicks her leg out, catching another seat with her heel before bringing it beside me. Then, she brings her other hand out, a closed box that she sets on my worktable.
"It's okay, really. I know how important this is to you. I've known better than to expect you to leave your work at my whim. Heh... even if it was planned. I brought you the food made by Cecil. That way, we can eat together."
I smile at her as she opens the box, two separate sections of cooked fish, beef, pork, and a dozen other ingredients. It smells good. Real good.
"Thank you."
Primrose kicks a leg up onto the edge of my table, grabbing a sheet of metal that she uses as a plate. Then, she begins to wolf down her food while staring at the arm I've been working on, speaking through her chewing.
"What makes that metal such a big deal, anyway? You've been working almost non-stop to get it from Canyon. Elizabeth has been trying to get your attention, by the way, but I kept anyone from coming in as you asked."
Forgetting the food for a moment, I place a hand on the prosthetic and another on the spare Skybane that I plan to integrate into the more extensive limb.
"This metal is terrific! It's not magnetic but so dense that I can't lift it without a lever or pulley. With that density, however, comes an incredible hardness alongside its odd amount of springiness. Tomas' claws could only leave minor dents in the steel, and even Fate Sealer could put a little more than that. I think this might be the most uncompromising metal we know of. It'd be a thousand times more expensive if it wasn't so heavy. Only Wyatt could reasonably wield an arm made of it."
Primrose eyes the material carefully before sliding her 'plate' of food to me. The woman seems interested in my work. Not just the outcome but how I get to it. Few ever cared, but it did take her a while to feel that way.
"Sounds like a steal, then. What else could you make of it? Do you reckon a dagger would work? Or armor? Imagine throwing Wyatt in a whole suit of that stuff like the Councilmen are always clad it."
I shake my head. That idea is ridiculous.
"No way in hell. A suit of this stuff would weigh tons. The arm alone is several hundred pounds. It'll make up for it once I put some Sigils in it, but even dismissing that point, I don't think there is enough Skybane on the planet's surface to make a suit of armor. Canyon got all of his from the depths of the plateau, but the rest of it is scattered beneath the surface."
Primrose nods to me while continuing to eat. She simply falls silent while roaming her attention all over. After just a few moments, however, she finds the skeleton of a knife written on a piece of paper.
"What's that?"
I almost stutter answering her, but I stop myself.
"A proof of concept. Skybane... has anti-healing properties when introduced to the blood of a creature. I suspect the—anyway, that sketch is meant for you—a dagger. I haven't started on it yet, though. So... don't expect too much, okay? I'm not good at making melee weapons quite yet."
Primrose's pupils fall onto me as her eyebrows sink, too. The woman's gaze scares me for a second before the expression vanishes entirely.
"You're making a girl awfully excited, Earl."
I don't know how to answer that one.
"Uh..."
Primrose stands and steps beside the sketch of the dagger, pointing at the hilt on the frame.
"What if you put in a canister like we did for Wyatt's last arm? I can fill it with gas whenever, so it'll work like both a Colt and a Claymore. It'll make it lighter, too, right? That way, it can be a bit longer without being heavier. If it's so tough, you also wouldn't be sacrificing much strength in the steel."
My heart skips a beat at the idea as I shoot to my feet, scattering food everywhere. It's amazing! How didn't I think of that? Stepping over to her, I grab my pencil and start sketching as she steps aside, simply watching while eating the meal she brought.
"Better not miss our next dinner."
"Yes, ma'am."
********************
Timemi 'Metal Witch'
Some fires are hard to put out.
I read that once in my great-grandfather's journal. As a wee kid, I didn't understand what he meant. Now, however, upon this cliff face overreaching onto the waters of the only sea, I do. The... monster that has been chasing us has been relentless.
It is a fire that refuses to die.
All we can do is run.
It is an insane flame. A creature motivated by two wills at once, and yet, both want to kill us four. It's only that they are different in how they want us to die. One wants us to be burned to ash, while the other wants to cover us in the silvery flames, converting our souls to the Mother Below.
I scan the waters with my eyes, seeing just how endless they appear to be from here. I've never seen the true Endless, however. The ocean that goes and goes until it never stops. However, no one has ever managed to venture out more than fifty miles deep and return. There are rumors that Desolation returned from those depths, but even my fathers thinks they are only that, rumors. What the humans call Lawless Lake is grand, with water stretching beyond the naked eye, even that of an Angel.
Nevertheless, my mind strains to do anything but think of my great-grandfather's words. He always loved to ramble about any random thing he could. This one stuck with me for some reason.
"Timi, some flames are to be put out. Some can be easily trampled underfoot, with no threat to any at all. Yet... there are some... some flames have souls, hearts, unyielding purpose. They have no reasons other than to burn, yet they burn nonetheless. Some simply refuse to die for no other reason than to do so. Spite is one of the most powerful motivators. Find something. And rise in spite of it."
I don't think he was being literal with his words. My great-grandfather was known for his ability to manipulate heat and flame. He tried to teach me a lesson, one that I didn't understand all the way back then.
Behind me, the black and silver fire of the relentless pursuer casts a haunting glow on the rocky terrain. We thought we had extinguished it once, but it emerged more vibrant, more dangerous. Now, with the three around me looking to me for guidance, I find myself standing on the precipice of a decision.
The cliff looms ahead, and the sea roars beneath, its waves crashing against jagged rocks. There's a desperation in the air as my companions plead for direction. Even the cold bitch is, finding it in her to ask me for help. I hardly notice their cries, but I respond nonetheless. The wind whistles through my ears as I sprint towards the cliff's edge, my heart pounding in sync with each footfall.
Without hesitation, I raise my voice above the tumultuous wind, commanding them to leap into the water. A collective gasp follows my order, but they trust in my judgment. As they take the plunge, I accelerate towards the edge, embracing the imminent freefall.
The rush of air engulfs me as I dive headlong into the abyss. The sea rises to meet me, and I brace for the impact. The fall is long, but I hardly pay attention as a wave of heat flows above me. Glancing up, I find an ocean of flame above us to match the one below, grazing only the top of Bemola's hair.
Closing my eyes, I ignore the heat and seek the bottom. Quickly, my hopes are answered. The cold embrace of the water surrounds me, momentarily separating me from the fiery pursuer above.
Beneath the surface, I kick and swim, leading the three behind me deeper into the sea. As we regroup in the water, I steal a glance back at the cliff's edge, half-expecting to see the relentless flames extinguished. Yet, the black and silver glow persists, flickering in the distance atop the cliff like a malevolent beacon.
I know our escape is only a temporary respite. The fire with a soul will persist, unyielding in its pursuit. Bemola catches up with Anodra, Natos, and I, forming a raft of ice we all climb onto.
Natos rolls onto his back on the ice, placing his burns against the cool surface as Bemola does the same. I spare them only a minor glimmer of attention as the remainder rests upon the living flame. Anodra collapses, our bulwark of a Nahullo unable to keep moving any longer.
I don't mock any of them. I once would have—but not anymore. That monster...
It gives me shivers despite the heat still radiating into my bones. A sigh of relief enters me as the ice pushes us further away, and I extricate some metal from my veins to create a row. Still watching the monster, I place the metal pole with a flat end into the water, waving it to move us away.
But as we make more distance from the cliff, I find the creature backpedaling from the edge slightly. Not enough to fade from view, only sufficiently far to get a... running start?
The curiosity in my mind is burnt away in an instant as the creature leaps off the cliff's edge, an inferno at its back. The two wings, one of silver and one of black fire, wrinkle in the air like a pair of lungs as my eyes widen in genuine horror.
"Take a row and help! It's still coming!"
The other three react with groans, barely able to move. I force Natos into action with a kick to his groin and a row in his hand. Bemola acts on her own, taking a row while Anodra stumbles to her feet on the slippery ice. I share a glance with her before handing her a row, too, whispering into her ear.
"Don't kill yourself."
The warning is authentic. I don't want an ally to kill themselves from exhaustion, but Anodra's eyes widen in surprise. I ignore her inquisitive gaze and turn back to the raft.
"Row faster!"
I scream at the top of my lungs while hefting all the force I can into the water. I'd use my Ether to push us, but I don't think it'd do very much. I'm not an 'emitter' by any stretch of the imagination. Father always called me a 'controller' instead.
The categories of talent that we Pygmies have come up with make far more sense than the human's broad 'resonance' that they adhere to. Not that we'll change their minds. It's way better for us if they had no clue what the hell they're talking about.
Natos is the closest thing our squad of four has to an emitter, but he forces light out of his limbs. That doesn't carry much mass. It carries a little due to the heat and all, but not enough to propel us. Bemola is actually, like me, a controller. The ice she makes comes from the water in the air, freezing it to become solid while condensing it.
So, we're stuck paddling the icy raft through the water as the monster flies toward us. At least it doesn't seem to know how the hell its wings work. That, or just as the two sides fight for dominance, they are struggling to fly together. I'm not sure which is the case, but I'm just thankful it's not jetting toward us like it did before on land.
While we bear the weight of our advance on our own bodies, Bemola calls out to me, her voice loud enough to reach beyond the distant flame and roaring waves.
"What's the play here, Timemi? Go until we exhaust?"
I shake my head, glancing at the Shattered Flame and then back into the horizon.
"No! It seems afraid of the water! We'll lead it to Kingstown and hide inside among the humans! We're all quite humanoid, after all! I also have dyes to change our skin color, and hats can hide horns! I'll just... be short."
Bemola raises an eyebrow at my explanation, still unsure of what I mean. Despite her confusion, she still paddles increasingly, hefting her Angelic strength.
"What do you mean!? What's the point of that!?"
I stifle my own laughter. These demons... they know so little about humans. How could they ever expect to kill them all if they don't do their research?
The second strongest human, or I suppose he's now the strongest human after the Prime's ascension, lives within Kingstown most of the year. If he isn't raiding, which he just finished before we left, he's stationed there.
And among all the creatures of the world, when it comes to water...
Heh...
He's called the Sea's Shadow for a reason.
It's no wonder why Vincent Harvey left the Outlaw alone between his Ocean's Tempo upon his hip, the floating island of a beast, and the man himself. I have no doubt the strongest mortal could have ended him, but it would not have been without repercussions. Many would have died between their battle, likely spanning multiple islands and leaving behind relentless storms.
Hundreds of thousands at least would have died between their clash, a far greater number than those the Virtue would kill should he be left alone to his own devices. A clever move made by the Prime. He even leveraged the strength difference over the man, forcing him to make concessions.
Had Desolation not taken Maddox Adkins under his wing, my father would have. There were already plans in place to give him another wife, my elder sister, but those backfired after Vincent made his move.
"Maddox Adkins is there! His prowess will be enough to douse any flame! We just can't get caught by him or this... thing! So, fucking row! Act as if your queen ordered it herself, dammit!"
Bemola nods at me, a slight flush on her cheeks as she seems embarrassed. Odd. I didn't know demons could feel shame. Perhaps she is angry. Doesn't matter.
We need to fucking row before this wobbly flyer catches us.
*************************
Earl 'Miraclemaker' Garner
The candlelight flickers in the small workshop, casting dancing shadows on the intricate design of the Skybane prosthetic I tirelessly craft. I can't have any electricity or oil lamps in here. The two can interfere with the preciseness of my work. Only the feeble light of candles doesn't.
My eyes scan over the arm I've made. It's so brilliant silver, it is almost white. Skybane... the same material forged into the bullets of Fate Sealer. Not there are many of the original ones left, anyway. It comes from so deep in the earth that it's said bringing it under sunlight bestows great power.
Of course, that is false. It is simply a material so densely swarmed with Ether that I'm surprised it doesn't have its own Sigil. Capable of deflecting even the force of cannons, I can't help but shiver in excitement, though that exhilaration quickly fades into a coughing fit.
Fatigue has settled into every fiber of my being, but the image of Wyatt keeps me forging ahead. I believe in Wyatt's survival, a belief that fuels the surety that he will need a replacement for his lost limb. There is no way he doesn't need a new one. And so, I've put my all these past few days into getting a chunk of Skybane large enough to do so.
Nevertheless, my hands tremble from exhaustion, my eyes heavy with weariness, yet the unfinished prosthetic demands my attention.
The city's owner, Canyon, extracted a heavy toll for this Skybane I've coveted so much. I toiled endlessly for him and his guards, trading my labor for the precious metal. I made over a dozen Coils and two Storms for them while also dumbing the latter down enough that anyone could use it. The struggle to acquire it was as challenging as the meticulous craftsmanship now before me.
Not that I've gone very far in its craftsmanship, though. All I've done is manipulate the hunk of Skybane into small, intricate parts that resemble scales. Then, I coordinated the 'scales' together to form the outside of the arm. The fingers were the most strenuous part—nimble but tense, tough but dextrous.
There is a balance to it all.
A balance I only want to make more perfect, but my fingers mock me—just a bit more. I want to inlay the scythe blade into the arm. Oh, and place tiny knives into fingernails. Wyatt fights with the Bloody Palm like his nails are blades, so it will be better if both arms are like that.
With determination etched across my face, I steady my hands through sheer force of will. The Skybane yields reluctantly, taking shape under the careful strokes of my tools and my precise Ether. Each detail, from the intricate gears inside the scales to the delicate joints, speaks of a promise—a promise to provide my friend with a second chance, a new beginning. I will forever owe him after what I did so long ago—not just attaching the Bloody Palm to him. After that. I betrayed him. I betrayed his trust after all he did for us.
My hands move with a grace born from passion and purpose. Of promise and redemption. As the prosthetic takes form, I envision my friend wearing it proudly, overcoming the challenges of the wasteland. But that vision quickly grows far too real for my liking. Wyatt runs at me with joy, his arms waving in the sky.
I smile at him, but before I can raise the prosthetic, a shout wakes me from my dream.
"Earl! Earl! Wake up, dammit!"
A slap to the back of my neck jolts me up and out of my seat.
"What!? Oh, Primrose. What's happening?"
Primrose, standing beside my half-circle desk, clutches one hand to her hip while the other stays behind her ominously. The woman glares right at me as she points outside.
"Don't 'oh, Primrose,' me! Remember our date!? You promised you'd be ready!"
Ice chills my veins, and water washes over my face as I stare at her.
Oh fuck. Is it already Monday? No... it was just Saturday morning, an hour ago. I twist my head, finding the city outside shrouded in shadows. Then, my eyes shift to the Skybane arm, only partially formed.
Double fuck.
"Hey... I thought that was tomorrow. Was it really today? Give me a second, and we can go."
Primrose taps her foot on the floor of my workshop, slamming her... heels against some iron shavings. Oh...
"It was two hours ago. Johnny managed to get us a meal from Canyon's personal chef, remember? I knew you would be at least a little late because of this... I waited for you, expecting you to come, but you never showed. So..."
Oh... I didn't mean to... I can see the hurt in her eyes. Ever since Wyatt went missing, we've spent way more time together. She's been... comforting in her demandingness. Primrose provides me a sense of security, I suppose. Comfort, even, despite the ferocity she shows.
"I'm sorry. I was just..."
But right as I expect to get my ear chewed out and be dragged out of my chair, Primrose flicks her leg out, catching another seat with her heel before bringing it beside me. Then, she brings her other hand out, a closed box that she sets on my worktable.
"It's okay, really. I know how important this is to you. I've known better than to expect you to leave your work at my whim. Heh... even if it was planned. I brought you the food made by Cecil. That way, we can eat together."
I smile at her as she opens the box, two separate sections of cooked fish, beef, pork, and a dozen other ingredients. It smells good. Real good.
"Thank you."
Primrose kicks a leg up onto the edge of my table, grabbing a sheet of metal that she uses as a plate. Then, she begins to wolf down her food while staring at the arm I've been working on, speaking through her chewing.
"What makes that metal such a big deal, anyway? You've been working almost non-stop to get it from Canyon. Elizabeth has been trying to get your attention, by the way, but I kept anyone from coming in as you asked."
Forgetting the food for a moment, I place a hand on the prosthetic and another on the spare Skybane that I plan to integrate into the more extensive limb.
"This metal is terrific! It's not magnetic but so dense that I can't lift it without a lever or pulley. With that density, however, comes an incredible hardness alongside its odd amount of springiness. Tomas' claws could only leave minor dents in the steel, and even Fate Sealer could put a little more than that. I think this might be the most uncompromising metal we know of. It'd be a thousand times more expensive if it wasn't so heavy. Only Wyatt could reasonably wield an arm made of it."
Primrose eyes the material carefully before sliding her 'plate' of food to me. The woman seems interested in my work. Not just the outcome but how I get to it. Few ever cared, but it did take her a while to feel that way.
"Sounds like a steal, then. What else could you make of it? Do you reckon a dagger would work? Or armor? Imagine throwing Wyatt in a whole suit of that stuff like the Councilmen are always clad it."
I shake my head. That idea is ridiculous.
"No way in hell. A suit of this stuff would weigh tons. The arm alone is several hundred pounds. It'll make up for it once I put some Sigils in it, but even dismissing that point, I don't think there is enough Skybane on the planet's surface to make a suit of armor. Canyon got all of his from the depths of the plateau, but the rest of it is scattered beneath the surface."
Primrose nods to me while continuing to eat. She simply falls silent while roaming her attention all over. After just a few moments, however, she finds the skeleton of a knife written on a piece of paper.
"What's that?"
I almost stutter answering her, but I stop myself.
"A proof of concept. Skybane... has anti-healing properties when introduced to the blood of a creature. I suspect the—anyway, that sketch is meant for you—a dagger. I haven't started on it yet, though. So... don't expect too much, okay? I'm not good at making melee weapons quite yet."
Primrose's pupils fall onto me as her eyebrows sink, too. The woman's gaze scares me for a second before the expression vanishes entirely.
"You're making a girl awfully excited, Earl."
I don't know how to answer that one.
"Uh..."
Primrose stands and steps beside the sketch of the dagger, pointing at the hilt on the frame.
"What if you put in a canister like we did for Wyatt's last arm? I can fill it with gas whenever, so it'll work like both a Colt and a Claymore. It'll make it lighter, too, right? That way, it can be a bit longer without being heavier. If it's so tough, you also wouldn't be sacrificing much strength in the steel."
My heart skips a beat at the idea as I shoot to my feet, scattering food everywhere. It's amazing! How didn't I think of that? Stepping over to her, I grab my pencil and start sketching as she steps aside, simply watching while eating the meal she brought.
"Better not miss our next dinner."
"Yes, ma'am."
