The gloved hand reaches out, grips the corner of the wax mustache, and tears it off with one swift yank. The jade box is shoved into her hands, messily packed with frames, a cup, and gold chopsticks, and she takes a step back before the etched golden door three times her height is slammed into her face.
Noedumari stares at the door for long moments. She blinks. Once, twice. Crowds pass by behind her, overlooking the spires and domes of this corner of Heaven. Her hair frazzles, the chopsticks falling out, and her shoulders sag.
The sudden, horrific reality hits her.
Realization like thunder from on high.
She has been fired.
A deep breath, and she bends down, grabbing her chopsticks from the ground and roughly shoving them into her box. Hair hanging in frizzy strands over her face and over her back, she walks down the street. Head hung low, she marches with neither direction nor purpose. It's not like she has much of a home to go to. She spent all her time at work for a reason, after all.
Her apartment building is a stop, at best. Somewhere for her to sleep. Some nights. If it wasn't a night she was trying to butter up a superior, or a colleague or...or whatever. Or because she had nothing better to do.
Walking with unsteady steps, an uneasy gait, she walks on automatic down a practiced route. Sits on a canal boat with her possessions in her lap, listening to rushing wind and water that carries her towards her apartment stop.
Destiny states that she would enter her single room flat, sparsely furnished save for mementos of the few good relationships she has had in her life, where she would sit for days before finding some other meaningless, busywork job.
But a single, long leg plucks a string, and as she walks to the door of her building, the hem of the blue, white lined robe is pulled by tiny mandibles. She looks down, and sees a small ball on twenty four long legs, with many eyes lining its back and face, and two twitching furry ears. A long limb wraps around her wrist like a ribbon, and Noedumari is pulled along.
"Um-"
"Hi thar," it squeaks, voice like wind through whistles and cheerful like a song, "Nice to meet ya again! I'm [019] maintenance [arm] of [Designate] Cluster of Entrepreneurial Iridescent Cecay!"
She blinks. She has seen stranger creatures in her years, although most creatures this odd and many-limbed tend to be more gruff. Or grabby. Not cheerful and skipping along, with mood and smiles that seem infectious.
She lets the spider pull her along. Soon, her steps become lighter, her box held underneath one arm and its weight forgotten. A smile crosses her pale, haggard face, even as the light of the moon becomes the light of the zenith sun. Within moments, perhaps. Hours, possibly, but she was not keeping track of time, she finds herself standing in front of doors of the bluest Jade and carved gold.
They open, and she is pulled along by the chittering, singing little girl, down embroidered hallways, past shuddering piles of paperwork, past long limbed gods who give only the slightest curious glance at the small creature and the companion it is pulling along.
It feels as if the world is pushing her towards this, pushing her towards a door decorated with spinning gears and symbols of blasting steam. The spider vanishes into a crack of white in the floor, closing under her feet. Hesitating hits her gut once again, but she feels she cannot turn back, cannot stop.
Box tucked under her arm, she raises her hand and knocks.
It opens after the third knock, and she enters a domed room with walls lined with brass and copper pipes. The floor shifts, and a conveyor belt carries her across the room and towards a desk made of wrought metal. Spinning gears and moving waldos shift around the desk, bringing papers and quills to the copper and brass man sitting behind it.
He looks up, blinking the two sapphire eyes on either side of his sharp nose, and the third ruby eye on his forehead. Long, pointed fingers tap pieces of paper, signed documents and knick knacks.
"Yes?" he asks, voice a low purr that makes her skin crawl. Noedumari clears her throat.
"Hi. I'm looking for a job," she says. Keeps her voice steady and tries to not show the nervousness, the uncertainty.
He grins, eyes tracing down her face, her chest. Hovering there, then continuing down. "Well, I don't have any openings," he says, leaning back in the chair, "But, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."
She grinds her teeth. Going to be one of those. Fine, she can do that. Wouldn't be the first time. "I'm sure we can work something out," she breathes.
"Oh yes. I'm certain we can." Two gold hands, each big enough to fit her head inside the palm, appear on her shoulders. The god behind the desk sits up, staring. Not at Noedumari.
Instead, at the five meter tall golden giant that has appeared behind her. He stammers, craning his neck up, up, until his eyes meet the two facet cut gems on the face of Autochthon.
"Hi there," the Maker says, voice low and steady.
The god coughs. Clears his throat. Tries to remember to breath. "Can...can I help you?" he squeaks.
Autochthon nods. "For starters, you can get out of my chair." The god does nothing. Says nothing, staring in a mix of horror, shock, and more horror. "So," Autochthon says, the grill on his face curving up, "Who are you?"
The metal man blinks, again and again. Finally, "I...I'm the God of Machines."
A small burst of steam escapes Autochthon's grill. "Wrong answer."
The door to the office explodes outwards, and the former God of Machines bounces once, twice on the ground before catching his nose on the floor and jerking to a stop. He rolls onto his back, skittering back on long metal legs.
Ignoring his shrieks, Autochthon stands in the doorway. Hands out, gold lightning plays over the doorway to expand it to accommodate his massive form, then re-forms the doors out of thin air. Extending a hand, golden cables shoot out. Wrapping around the former God of Machine's ankles, they yank him over to Auto.
Wrapping his fingers around the god's head, he pulls him up to eye level. "Consider yourself...transferred. You are now Undersecretary Second Division to the God of Machines. Which means you will never tell anyone what you saw, speak of this to no one, and not interact with me at all." He yanks him closer. "Or I have a shiny new bit of starmetal to give to my favorite student, which she would probably use to make, I don't know, a set of earrings for the girl you tried to proposition."
The smaller metal god stammers. "But-but. Do I get an office?"
Facet eyes twist. A golden brow narrows. "Find a broom closet." He off-handedly tosses the god aside, walks back into the office, and slams the doors shut.