[ with weyland in nyc ]

[tragic_mask]

They step through the door, and find themselves on the cracked sidewalk outside of a lively bar. A sign glows: "Blue Owl."

It's nighttime, but the city still glows with all kinds of light, and shakes with the noise of honking, shouting, music, the clinking of glasses, all blending together into the cacophony and symphony of the city.

Melpomene looks around. "Well, we're back... Right where I started."

Comments

[mechanicalswans]

"Thank you," he says, taking his glass. "I'm getting the feeling that I spend much more time at home than you do... but there is a great deal more to do in New York than where I am, and my work does not involve other people directly."

[tragic_mask]

"That might be it..." She looks around, and moves over to the couch in the living room. "Maybe I should have invested more time in making this place look homey."

[mechanicalswans]

"Antique shops," he says, following her in and having a seat on the couch. "Things from there come with a history already, much better than buying them new. And if people ask, you can say they are family heirlooms. I did that, for a while."

[tragic_mask]

"Well." She hesitates. "I haven't had that problem in a while, to be honest. I don't have many guests."

She's reluctant to admit how lonely she is, normally, but it seems to be seeping into the conversation anyway.

[mechanicalswans]

"My apartment is lucky to see a dozen people besides myself and my mechanical companion in a year," he says with a light shrug. "Those who do come are generally only couriers or members of the court, they don't stay for dinner or anything. It feels more... personal, more vulnerable to entertain at home. I rarely ever do it."

[tragic_mask]

"Yes," she says, making herself comfortable beside him. "It really does." Though the place is sparse, it's possible to see something of Melpomene in the way she's covered the walls-- in bookshelves.

[mechanicalswans]

"I hope you're not feeling too vulnerable," he says, draping an arm around her shoulders again and having a sip of his drink as he idly scans some of the books on the shelves. "When my door returns, we can exchange the favor, and you can see where I live."

[tragic_mask]

"Yeah, sure," she says. "As you can see... there's not much to see here."

[mechanicalswans]

"There's not much in mine either. All leather and chrome and glass... like living in some showroom of the future. But it's very clean."

[tragic_mask]

"That counts in your favor, I suppose."

She takes a sip of her drink, closing her eyes to savor it.

[mechanicalswans]

"...well, I have live-in help, so to speak," he says. "And it is very easy for her to keep that clean. It has a doorway to my forge, and that's where I spend most of my waking hours at home, so there is very little mess anywhere else. Do you ever feel like you're building a life in case anyone looks in, rather than actually living one?"

He sips his drink.

[tragic_mask]

She ponders.

"Sometimes. Not in here, though. As I said, few people ever visit, so I can... let loose." She quirks a brow at her own words. "Though you might not know that from looking."

[mechanicalswans]

"No one else is watching," he says with a smile. "And if anyone should ask... I certainly wouldn't tell them anything. You don't need my permission to do as you please... what would you normally be doing, this time of night, if you were here alone?"

[tragic_mask]

"Reading, maybe. Or out walking the streets."

That sounds bad, so she corrects-- "You know. Going to the park, or the bar. Listening to peoples' thoughts, and dreams."

[mechanicalswans]

"What do their thoughts and dreams tell you?" he asks, giving her a curious look. "And what do you do with what you find out? Is it just for your entertainment, or do you inspire them, or do you use their stories to inspire others?"

[tragic_mask]

"Mostly the second, as far as thoughts go. Though occasionally their thoughts can be entertaining, they're mostly painful. So many people have so much pain. It's overwhelming."

She shakes her head. "And I look at their dreams to see if they're worth inspiring. It's cruel, perhaps, but some people have never dreamt of anything, and I can't do anything for them.

[mechanicalswans]

"You just... look into their heads? Do they know you're in there?"

Another sip of his drink.

"That must be exhausting. All I have is a well-developed sense of what it is people want from a commission, but... what they are trying to do, most of the time, is fill a void that is otherwise filled with unhappiness. And I know, no matter how beautiful the things I make may be, they will not by themselves bring happiness."

A pause. "Well, except for an unnatural semblance of happiness."

[tragic_mask]

"Ah, that's how people always think, though. The semblance of happiness is better than nothing."

She sighs. "Looking into their heads can be exhausting. And no, they never know I'm there. I'm like a ghost."

[mechanicalswans]

"Does your work ever make you happy?" he asks. "Or is it simply... the satisfaction of finishing a job? There's a big difference between satisfaction and happiness, I have found."

[tragic_mask]

"Mostly satisfaction... I never believe I have the right to happiness, though you told me otherwise."

She smiles for a brief moment.

[mechanicalswans]

"It's not as though you make people unhappy," he says. "They are unhappy on their own. You take their suffering and make something beautiful of it. You're kinder than I am."

[tragic_mask]

"And what is it you do?"

[mechanicalswans]

"I make things," he answers. "If people want something made--and I do still have some of the sort of customers I used to have ages ago, when I was more famous; there aren't as many, but the ones who are left are more demanding and less polite--I will make it for them. But I don't have to make it easy, and I don't have to make it cheap--if I don't like them, or don't like what they're trying to have made, I charge them more. Not money, but materials. I rarely gather materials for magic items myself; it's my way of testing."

[tragic_mask]

"To see if they really want what they're asking you for?"

She pauses. "What are some of the things they ask for, and why do you like or dislike their requests?"

[mechanicalswans]

"You have to understand, I can make anything," he says. "Anything beautiful but nonmagical of metal, given the metal, and anything magical given the right supplies. In the old days it was often an enchanted blade so that an unskilled girl or young man could protect themselves while rescuing a loved one from wrongful imprisonment; if it's for a selfless cause, I suppose I am still a romantic. But many more, especially these days, want things for themselves."

He shakes his head. "They may want complete power over some other person, or the ability to look through some magic mirror and kill others from afar, or eternal youth, something they really shouldn't have. Some of these people are monstrous. So I ask them for things that are either almost impossible to get to, like the elbow of Saint Sebastian or something; very difficult to find, like a gallon of water from some river overseas only vaguely defined; or something that would stop most sane people, like a body part of a loved one. I tell them it must be given voluntarily, and... they aren't."