Setting: Rodion's Workshop

Dull thuds could be heard, interspersed between quick metallic clangs. A thick, heavy smog obscured the room's ceiling. Tables, black and charred, Were placed randomly throughout the room. Random bits and pieces of machinery adorned the tables as elaborate schematics hung from the far wall. In the corner stood a large forge, white ether flowing through hot coals. To its right was a pile of coils, coils that circulated and heated the ether within. On the other side of the furnace stood an anvil, a variety of tools hanging on the wall behind it. Within the coals of the forge laid several bars of steel, all of which were cherry hot. Tongs in hand, a man, 6'2", stood at the anvil hammering out a piece of steel. Black goggles covered his eyes, blue swirls of ether faintly dancing at the corners. His hair, long, wavy and black, was tied back in a tail, letting sweat freely drip down the back of his neck. A close-fitting, black t-shirt sporting large, drenched areas covered his broad shoulders and muscular frame. Heavy black gloves covered his hands as they worked with the cherry hot steel. A black leather belt held deep blue jeans up at his hips, which moved with every swing of the hammer he took. Black boots, reaching just below the middle of his shins, were worn snugly on his feet. The man's lips were parted in severe concentration as sweat dripped down his forehead and face. No emotion, not a single one, could be seen on his face as he worked.

On the center table laid hundreds of pieces of steel, most of which were small and miniscule. Of the larger pieces, may were rings of steel of varying diameters. In fact, the piece that the man was working on seemed to be another ring, larger than all of the others. It happened to be an entire foot in diameter. Several pages of sprawling notes were placed haphazardly underneath the steel. The only thing that could be read clearly was 'Madrys'. Further along, on a table pushed up against the wall, were racks of vials. Ether, of varying degrees, was stored in all of them. White mostly, the same stuff that powered the forge. The gold, thick and almost luminescent, was held in all but one. Blue, electric and stormy, filled the last vial. The vial of blue ether, taken from the man's own blood, laid in the center of the table, sprawling notes underneath it. On another table stood what looked like a hollow globe, made of glass, with thousands of tiny pinholes in it. Another note was placed next to it that read 'Core'. On the other side of the room was another table, covered in grease, tools, and pieces of machinery. What looked like a bike, half finished, sat to one side while a metal wolf, large and wild, was on the other. The engine of the bike was taken apart and placed, systematically, on a tarp next to the bike. The wolf, on the other hand, had a gaping hole in the center of its back, just large enough to house a 1-foot wide sphere.

Rodion

Rodion hammered away, sweat dripping around his goggles with every swing. His breath, heavy and loud, escaped his lips in a set rhythm. He had been trying to focus on his work for the past thirty minutes, but Ziotea kept coming up. Rodion had already been forced to scrap five rings because of this. Taking a deeper-than-usual breath, Rodion's thoughts returned to an event from earlier that day. He had figured out, after several years, how to get Madrys' core to work correctly and had wanted to share it with Ziotea. However, when he found her, she was standing next to Stina. Rodion didn't have anything against the larger man, but for some reason Rodion's chest clenched in emotions when he saw this. His eyes, that had been slightly wider in excitement, quickly narrowed to just below their usual place. The back of his jaws clenched ever so slightly in frustration. Stopping in his tracks, Rodion turned back away and wandered. His thoughts were in turmoil. Why had he ran? Why had he been frustrated? What had gripped his heart? The questions kept coming, and they kept swirling within his head. Frustration captured his body and mind again, forcing him to move to its bidding.

Shaking his head, Rodion managed to clear his thoughts, the frustration retreating to the figurative box in his mind. He was breathing heavier now, sweat dripping from his face. His lips, pulled back slightly revealed a snarl, though to anyone but Ziotea it would look as if he was just trying to get more air in his lungs. Looking down at the tongs in his hands, they now held a mangled piece of steel, useless. It had been the sound from his hammer hitting the anvil itself that had roused Rodion from his thoughts. Sighing, Rodion threw the mangled piece of steel back underneath the bed of coals. Stepping away from the forge, Rodion took his gloves off, placing them on the closest table, which also housed a heavy, leather apron on it. Taking his goggles off of his eyes, Rodion let them fall down around his neck. Turning around to face the door, Rodion's eyes immediately found hers.

Ziotea was standing in the doorway, and god how Rodion hoped she hadn't seen him just now. His heart was immediately gripped in warring emotions of shame and longing. Her nearly golden eyes looked straight into the blue depths of his own. Her fiery hair, a color that he loved without knowing why, framed her slender face. Her skin, marred in places from old scars, was perfect in the mechanist's vision. His lips clenched together ever so slightly as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Looking away, Rodion's eyes centered on the center table. Swallowing, Rodion went threw words in his head, trying to find something to say.

"I figured it out, Ziotea. I figured out how to get Madrys to work properly." Rodion looked up at his partner, his other half, his friend. Oh god how he hated having to use the word 'friend'. WHich only served to frighten him more because he didn't know why he hated that word when it came to Ziotea. A smile, small but attractive, crept into his lips as excitement overwhelmed his mind. He was talking to Ziotea about things that he had made, and things that he will make. These were the conversations he loved, and he tried to seek them out whenever he could.