18
GreggHL
Engaging hilarity engine/air intake
- Location
- Daejeon, Republic of Korea
The sunlight beams through the windows of the office, shifting into sunlight. Golden eyes look up and he straightens up, shifting the full measure of his awareness into his more human looking avatar. Stretching his neck, grunting, he idly wonders if he can work with this- this separation and compartmentalization- to make some component souls for himself.
He glances up again, musing on the stars he can see through the newly installed skylight in the domed office. "Saturn, mm? I wonder if Ignis let her win on purpose."
Autochthon, the Great Maker, has been thinking quite a bit lately. Not just on his normal trains of thought- invention, creativity, wonder, and new ideas- but on other things as well. Consequences, responsibility, what not.
The golden lightning streaming from his fingers hums in time with his own tune, a musical piece he picked up from the Normandy. The plate of jade underneath him reacts in time, legs forming and enchantments carving their way across it. To make the owner better rested, to organize papers in their draws.
The light from the gold skinned, lanky and disheveled man provides the brightest illumination. Like his craft, like his calling, it consumes his attention to the point where he does not hear the gears of the walls click or the lights switching on. He does not hear the automated floor or the door close.
It would take a craftsman months to do such things. But he is no craftsman. He is the Craftsman-god-thing. And, since he has taken a shine to the girl, he must make the best desk he can for her. He muses on it, muses some more. Then is broken out of the musing by two arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind and a quite perky chest pressing against his back.
The head rotates completely, looks down, and centers on Noedumari's smiling face. "Please do give me some warning when you do that," he says, smiling nonetheless, and turns his head back around, "I should be done with your desk within the next few days. You can use mine for paperwork while I'm working, of course."
"I'm sorry, but I didn't see any requisition orders for new office furniture."
The moving floor stops, and with a shuffling of long and embroidered skirts, the woman steps off. Tall, as tall as Autochthon's current body, lanky, she folds two arms behind her, two arms in front of her, and the third set of arms move as she walks, swaying from side to side in motion to the steady swinging of her angular, mantis-like face.
Noedumari makes an uncertain squeak, stepping behind Autochthon, then darting over to his desk. Auto himself tilts his head. A brief flicker of his awareness goes into one of his other bodies, checking records and images, before confirming who this is.
"Ah, Lady Ryzala." Shogun of the Department of Celestial Concerns, Lady of Paperwork and Bureaucracy, unofficial head of the Bureau of Heaven. Which his department is a part of. "Ah, my apologies." He extends a hand to the side, and Noedumari slaps down a form into it. Forming a pen in his free hand, he checks boxes, scribbles his assumed name, and hands it over. "I am not requisitioning it as much as using my own resources to create it, so I was uncertain if I should submit this form."
Not a lie, more an invention. In theory, at least.
She takes the form, glances at it, and nods. The corners of her mouth twitch, as if in some sort of hazy memory of how to react, before pulling into the beginnings of a smile. "There may be a more appropriate form," she says, "I will check. A crafter?"
He nods. "My calling. I come highly recommended for this position. Perhaps this department may be expanded." He smiles, part of his mind still checking records. Facts. Interesting reputation, he finds.
She smiles, slightly wider. "Interesting," she says, circling around him, Noedumari giving her a wide berth, "Of course, there would be quite a few forms for you to fill out, too. Especially, since you've just taken over as department head."
He smiles, straightening up. "Happy to fill out any and all paperwork you have. And a few more, if it would make you happy."
She cocks a hairless eyebrow. "I think it might." She folds her third set of arms at her waist. "Perhaps we can talk about this, in private. Perhaps over dinner. I will send a time and date."
"And I will be punctual."
She turns and strides out. He does not hear Noedumari collapse into his chair, nor hear her pull out a paper bag to hyperventilate into. Rather, he looks down, and cocks an eyebrow at the tent that has pitched itself over the front of his pants.
"My. That's never happened before."
-
-
Chapter 6:
Like a Bull in a Spider Web
-
-
He glances up again, musing on the stars he can see through the newly installed skylight in the domed office. "Saturn, mm? I wonder if Ignis let her win on purpose."
Autochthon, the Great Maker, has been thinking quite a bit lately. Not just on his normal trains of thought- invention, creativity, wonder, and new ideas- but on other things as well. Consequences, responsibility, what not.
The golden lightning streaming from his fingers hums in time with his own tune, a musical piece he picked up from the Normandy. The plate of jade underneath him reacts in time, legs forming and enchantments carving their way across it. To make the owner better rested, to organize papers in their draws.
The light from the gold skinned, lanky and disheveled man provides the brightest illumination. Like his craft, like his calling, it consumes his attention to the point where he does not hear the gears of the walls click or the lights switching on. He does not hear the automated floor or the door close.
It would take a craftsman months to do such things. But he is no craftsman. He is the Craftsman-god-thing. And, since he has taken a shine to the girl, he must make the best desk he can for her. He muses on it, muses some more. Then is broken out of the musing by two arms wrapping around his shoulders from behind and a quite perky chest pressing against his back.
The head rotates completely, looks down, and centers on Noedumari's smiling face. "Please do give me some warning when you do that," he says, smiling nonetheless, and turns his head back around, "I should be done with your desk within the next few days. You can use mine for paperwork while I'm working, of course."
"I'm sorry, but I didn't see any requisition orders for new office furniture."
The moving floor stops, and with a shuffling of long and embroidered skirts, the woman steps off. Tall, as tall as Autochthon's current body, lanky, she folds two arms behind her, two arms in front of her, and the third set of arms move as she walks, swaying from side to side in motion to the steady swinging of her angular, mantis-like face.
Noedumari makes an uncertain squeak, stepping behind Autochthon, then darting over to his desk. Auto himself tilts his head. A brief flicker of his awareness goes into one of his other bodies, checking records and images, before confirming who this is.
"Ah, Lady Ryzala." Shogun of the Department of Celestial Concerns, Lady of Paperwork and Bureaucracy, unofficial head of the Bureau of Heaven. Which his department is a part of. "Ah, my apologies." He extends a hand to the side, and Noedumari slaps down a form into it. Forming a pen in his free hand, he checks boxes, scribbles his assumed name, and hands it over. "I am not requisitioning it as much as using my own resources to create it, so I was uncertain if I should submit this form."
Not a lie, more an invention. In theory, at least.
She takes the form, glances at it, and nods. The corners of her mouth twitch, as if in some sort of hazy memory of how to react, before pulling into the beginnings of a smile. "There may be a more appropriate form," she says, "I will check. A crafter?"
He nods. "My calling. I come highly recommended for this position. Perhaps this department may be expanded." He smiles, part of his mind still checking records. Facts. Interesting reputation, he finds.
She smiles, slightly wider. "Interesting," she says, circling around him, Noedumari giving her a wide berth, "Of course, there would be quite a few forms for you to fill out, too. Especially, since you've just taken over as department head."
He smiles, straightening up. "Happy to fill out any and all paperwork you have. And a few more, if it would make you happy."
She cocks a hairless eyebrow. "I think it might." She folds her third set of arms at her waist. "Perhaps we can talk about this, in private. Perhaps over dinner. I will send a time and date."
"And I will be punctual."
She turns and strides out. He does not hear Noedumari collapse into his chair, nor hear her pull out a paper bag to hyperventilate into. Rather, he looks down, and cocks an eyebrow at the tent that has pitched itself over the front of his pants.
"My. That's never happened before."
-
-
Chapter 6:
Like a Bull in a Spider Web
-
-
