Difference between revisions of "Doing Something Constructive (Corona Arclite)"

Latest revision as of 23:22, 22 August 2016

The cacophony of various materials cascading upon the floor rung through the early morning as a single swipe of the tail send things scattering off the top of the workbench. A few goblins looked up at the noise... then shrugged and went back to their morning duties. Such an abrupt clearing of workspace to pursue a new streak of inspiration was hardly a new event around these parts.

With workspace cleared Corona spread out the worn sheets of parchment across the surface, grabbing some of the larger random things she had just knocked off the bench to pin down the corners and keep the paper from furling back up. Thankfully, unlike some inventors (herself included at times) Ryxinel had made schematic backups as he had built and upgraded Thianel. Some of the Izzet terminology wasn't entirely clear to the vixen because she wasn't as familiar with magitech as she was other machinery but she would make do and adapt. That is how she works. She skimmed over the first steps, tracing words and runes with one finger while using the other hand to enter notes into her C-PAD, working the device's input controls without even looking at with as much skill as people who text without taking the smartphone out of their pocket.

Ryxinel had already explained to her that he would have to construct the interface for the core, it was the one process only he could do and wasn't directly recorded on the schematics for protection. Good enough for Corona. She was a machinist and a metalsmith, she could at least tend to the construction of the new body. Rhapsody was too emotionally broken to do much; Sidonia had disappeared as was her nature, likely to hunt information and plot for the upturned state of affairs in the city; which left Ryxinel with his talons too fully keeping tabs on everything else to dedicate all of his time to rebuilding his creation beyond that.

Prints were out, notes and plans were made. They'd have to start from the literal ground up, Thianel was such a complex construct that Ryxinel didn't keep many parts pre-made outside the standard wear and tear of a clockwork construct.

For a moment Corona glances over at the stand where the blue crystal had been placed for safety from any of the accidental wonders that were often part of Izzet work. Despite the out-of-body experience it seemed to be almost glowing more brightly than before. It pulsed and occasionally flared, as if somehow aware of what was going on around it still. It wanted it out. Next to Rhapsody it had been the most betrayed, Thianel had been Yunomi's mentor in Niv-Mizzet's absence. It hated not being able to contribute in this state; not being able when the Guildmaster needed it; it wanted to get to the bottom of this madness as much as everyone else.

"We all do, pardner, we all do," Corona murmured even if she didn't know if the crystal could actually hear anything. The pulsating did seem to subside a little though, as if the essence within understood.

Tucking the C-PAD back into its pouch on her toolbelt, Corona grabbed the pair of heavy work gloves instead, tugging on one and then the other. Then held one hand out. "Tinderbox." The toolchest sized clockpunk cube sitting next to the workbench lit one lens and emitted a mechanical whirr almost as if yawning and berating her for 'waking' it. Corona as usual ignored the minor attitude. "My work goggles, please."

Despite the protests the automatron was obedient and opened its hatch to do so, popping up a pair of heavily greebled goggles into Corona's hand. These she actually had to take her stetson off to wear, hanging the hat on a corner of the bench to pull them over her head and ears until they sat appropriately on her face. Unlike the ones she wore generally for protection, these had various magnifiers and other visual aids for working with more delicate processes, as well as shielding her eyes from heat and glare of a forge, which is where she was about to head to start crafting parts.

The Guild had already been informed to help her as needed, and if anything was truer, she reckons most of them were down here for the same reason she was. Routine was a coping mechanism for distraught, as was doing something constructive. Pun intended. Also because they knew Izzet's methods to the madness more personally than she did.

Notes, check. A brief patting to check over her tools on her belts, two worn around her waist in a crossover fashion in the same way a gunslinger would wear their ammo belts. She even pulls out a clockpunk ratchet gun and twirls it in her hand a few times like a shooting iron before stuffing it back in its pouch. Hammer, pliers, wire trimmer, spring adjustors; everything was here and ready.

Corona held up on gloved hand, and when she clenched it into a fist the Arclite Cutter affixed to the work glove lit up, a few sparks of blue-green energy hissing from the admitter like plasma arc-welder. The faint glow reflected across the lens of her goggles as she stifled down the emotional mishmash to flash one of her toothy clever fox smirks at the guildworks that had started to gather around wanting to assist.

"Who's ready to help make a friend better? With SCIENCE."

And probably some explosions. This -is- Izzet after all.