tragic_mask | (no subject)

"Because it can't be changed?" he asks, idly stirring his coffee.

"I'm building a time machine, you know."

"Really?" she says, managing to raise her eyebrow only a little. "That sounds exciting."

"It is," he agrees. "The best thing about the bar--aside from meeting such charming troublemakers as yourself--is access to supplies that I wouldn't be able to find or make for myself back home. Supplies which will make it possible."

"What sort of supplies are those?"

"Souls from purgatory," he says quietly, after a quick and nervous glance around. "Specifically, the souls of the innocent who were killed very young by the wickedness of the world. They are pure potential--and the belief system of my world does not allow for that, so I could never have gotten them there."

She tilts her head.

"Wow. That's... something."

"Do you disapprove?" he asks. "I didn't kill them, and they were forgotten by the world, even by the ones who should have loved them; but in my work, they are cherished. There's a strange beauty in it."

"I just... find it strange. Unexpected."

She picks at the remainder of her bacon.

"I've had to justify it to other people," he says, "and I prefer it when I don't have to. It wouldn't be everyone's ideal line of study, but I enjoy it."

"Well, I'd like to understand it more... it sounds quite poetic."

"Would you like me to teach you what I know?" he asks. "Not all of it, of course, but you could join me in the forge, watch me work, learn the basics..."

"I'd love to, actually," she says.

"I don't usually let people watch me, besides customers--and not often then," he says. "But I would make an exception for you."

"Well, I'm honored. I promise to be a good student."

"Do you... do other kinds of crafting?" he asks. "Make anything with your hands? You wouldn't just need to do metalwork, to be a student of mine."

"Well... I've tried my hand at lots of things over the years... none very successfully," she says, sheepish.

"We'll have to change that," he says with a smile. "Everyone can craft something--it's just a matter of finding what that thing is. Yours may be metal."

"We'll see... I'll be happy to get my hands dirty." She smiles.

"Do you have a particular favorite metal?" he asks. "One that is... special to you. I can work with any kind, but you might prefer one over another."

"I don't know much about metals," she says. "Other than steel, for knives. But even then... my knowledge is so elementary. You'll have to teach me."

"Knives are a more advanced project," he says. "We'll start smaller, and less sharp. You'll do beautifully, I know it."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she says, looking doubtful.

"There's never been anyone that I couldn't teach to make at least something," he says, and sips his coffee. "If you trust me, you'll do fine."

"Okay," she says. "I will do my best. Insofar as I trust anyone."

"I'll never lie to you unless you want me to," he says softly. "You can trust me as far as you would like."