Riyeko Lionward; The reserved and nervous inventor (thebesttoys) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-26 21:16:00 |
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While she hadn’t been entirely sure this was going to be a good deal, or maybe even all that good an idea, Riyeko had agreed to it anyway. From what she’d heard in the Thieves Guild, this woman was pretty good with gathering information, and quite frankly, that was just what she needed right now. The months of trying to track down this man just weren’t working, and the fact that the other woman needed assistance of some sort as well… It seemed too good to be true. Especially when the realization dawned on the Machinist that it was likely help she actually could offer. After the appointment had been set, and Riyeko had started toying with various brace ideas, getting a couple options sketched out for Ms. Zhou’s review, time had been set aside to search the network. While the machinist always kept a close eye on it, and read everything she could possibly see - knowing full well that some things she would never have access to - about the other woman. What bits of information were exchanged within her guild, what news did the woman share with the world around her? What things did she offer, tell, or command of others? How did she type? How did she spell? There were so many minor indicators that could be looked for which assisted in pinpointing potential clues as to what a person could be like, or who they were that they wouldn’t think a single thing of unless it was otherwise pointed out to them. (It was a method and approach that Ofelia herself would have approved of heartily: gather as much information as possible before committing.) As far as Riyeko could tell? Well…. There wasn’t a lot to tell. More research was required before a specific conclusion could be reached was the best outcome she had in the moment. It was mildly frustrating, yet at the same time, not entirely a bad thing. Regardless of that, now she had a potential brace to construct, a person to meet with and blueprints to show. A glance at the clock indicated the woman would be arriving any second and the machinist hopped off her stool, quickly darting towards the living room of the house where the other woman was sure to be knocking. A sharp whistle was let out, and a low grumble could be heard from Ratchet as he laid under the kitchen table, one ear twitched back to indicate he’d heard her call for him, but that he wasn’t about to move. “Now you need to behave, ok? We’re going to have a guest and I think she’s a pretty nice lady from what I know of her and she’s going to maybe help us, ok? So, um, just, stay under the table and don’t go running up to her and don’t bark at her, ok?” The words came out rapid fire, and hands wrung together absently while the Ratchet continued to lay there seemingly largely disinterested in the entire affair. “I know you’re hearing me mister, so you better listen and not scare her, otherwise no doggy treats for a week!” Ratchet let out a slight whine. “I’m serious! Be nice, ok? Please?” Not that he’d ever really been known to be unkind but… Riyeko still couldn’t help getting herself all worked up over this. What if this was her only chance to make a deal that could get her family’s money back? Only time could tell how this arrangement would turn out. But for now, it started innocently enough with a knock at the door, a sharp rap of knuckles against the wood. Apparently Ofelia Zhou was the prompt and punctual type—another bit of information to file away on her, perhaps. When the door swung open to a breathless and fidgety machinist, Ofelia looked down, mildly surprised by the young woman’s diminutive size. They’d only corresponded electronically so far, filing both the invention commission and client work request via the communication network. Seeing Lionward for the first time in the flesh, the information broker immediately started building her own little mental file on the younger thief. “Riyeko Lionward, I presume?” she asked mildly. Behind Riyeko she could see the immobile lump of an older dog—the exact opposite of the excitable puppies Fee had to offload a few months ago. Shifting in the doorway, a weak smile was offered as one hand moved to pick at the hem of her shirt. “That would be me, and you’re miss Zhou, right?” The look remained as Riyeko took a second before stepping back, offering for the woman to come into the house. Though, she mentally scolded herself for such a dumb question. Of course it would be miss Zhou, who else could be it showing up at this time of day? It felt like a painfully stupid question, but maybe she was wrong. She could be wrong right? But who would this person be if it wasn’t Zhou? Could it be a delivery person? But who would be delivering something to her here? Now? Why would they? Waiting a moment, she’d allow the woman a few seconds to adjust. “Would you like a drink or anything?” Even if the other woman was here for a business transaction, it didn’t leave any reason for the machinist to be rude. Good manners, and a positive hosting attitude was something that had been ingrained into her from a young age, and she’d never outgrown any of them. “That would be lovely, thank you. Some tea?” Ofelia was all coiffed politesse, the sort of etiquette trained into a girl at court engagements and growing up at the elbow of diplomats (her mother had always ended up in the most surprising of places). A common bit of advice for job interviews was to always say yes to the offer of a drink, simultaneously accepting the host’s gesture, seeming more confident and at ease, and giving you something you something to do with your hands. And while Ofelia wasn’t campaigning to be a youth’s employee, this was the prelude to a job on both their ends. “Sure!” The response was a chipper chirp regardless of herself, proper entertaining was - in a sense - its own joy after all. A gesture was made towards the couch, then the kitchen table, as if offering what options were available to the other woman at this time. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” If the woman would settle on the couch, or the ‘dining’ table’ was up to her. Riyeko certainly wasn’t about to police her guests…. Well, too much. In the meantime, Ofelia looked around the girl’s home, taking it in. Entering the doorway had immediately dumped them into a large living room with no dividing walls between it and the kitchen. The only thing really separating the two rooms was a slightly intended bit of wall, along with a bar splitting out. One could easily look over the countertop and into the living room if they so desired. Though the way the kitchen table settled on the other side of the ‘divider’ seemed to merge the two rooms, making both available, yet being neither all at once. Various supplies had been stacked in a corner here, or a pile out of the way there. A few coasters had been left – recently used, judging by the darkened rings on them – on the table in front of the couch. “Is being a machinist lucrative for you?” Ofelia asked, genuinely curious. “I’ve only seen Cerelia Labs, which might not be indicative of the profession as a whole.” “Oh, um, well, it depends on the job, and how well known you are.” A thought struck. “Along with how much time you spend on jobs outside of your interests against within them.” That tended to be Riyeko’s problem more often than not. It was hard to get funding for tooling around with your own inventions all the time. Admittedly, her creations were starting to catch people’s attention, but it had taken the better part of five years to get there too. Moving around, Riyeko set to work on fixing the drinks. “If you’d like to tell me what the problem is, it might help. I have a sketch mocked up, but it can be altered.” “The problem’s just the usual.” Ofelia took a seat at the the kitchen table, pulling out one of the other dining chairs to stretch out her left leg for display. She moved gingerly; the limb was obviously stiff and inflexible, almost arthritic. “Same as I described for the sketches. I broke this more than a decade ago, but it never healed quite right. I see a physical therapist and synergist for it every so often, to bring the chronic pain down, but the muscle’s still weak. What I was thinking – based on what I’ve seen of your work with grav boots – was a brace for the knee, to carry more of my weight than the bone itself. To possibly make up for its lack of flexibility, too.” Looking at herself, Ofelia was forced to accept a distant tone, breaking her own body down into disparate parts, strengths and weaknesses, variables to adjust. “Ummm,” There was a moment of consideration as she watched the limb extend. That did look terribly uncomfortable. “Is the muscle completely unrepairable?” If it had been an injury incurred years ago, it was likely that it was, but… One could never be too sure. Perhaps it was a problem with rebuilding the muscle strength? Thoughts flickered through her head mulling over a couple different possible solutions. They could potentially work towards rebuilding the muscle strength through an adjustable brace. If the muscle had proven useless in then a steady support would easily be best. “We might have a few options.” The words were thoughtful, and the steps were easily finished in setting up the tea leaves and water to boil. Now it was just a matter of letting the water heat up enough for serving. “I don’t know if completely is the right word. I’m not a physician, after all.” Ofelia smiled thinly. “But the original injury was over a decade ago, yes. So there’s that.” Watching the girl as she bustled about in the kitchen and prepared the pot, the gambler spoke up again, her tone carefully flattened out and devoid of emotion (no wavering concern, no fear, Faram forbid she show any of it): “So. Any preliminary conclusions? Do you think there’s any use working on it?” “Oh, um, well, no, I was just asking if anyone had ever commented to that sort of end?” Riyeko was - by no means - any sort of physician herself. “It’ll help me to figure out if it would make more sense to build a brace with adjustable resistance, and support, or one to constantly maintain. If it’s strength you can build back over time, significant support would only be beneficially for a short period, if you can’t, then the system will need to be able to take the brunt of the support for an extended time to be a quality product.” Really, it seemed like a simple enough conclusion, but that also depended upon what precisely the other woman was looking for. “Oh!” The machinist took a moment, considering the question poised to her. “I think that everything can be rebuilt, or fixed. It’s just a matter of finding the right parts.” The sincerely honest smile that crossed her face was clear, one that held nothing but the utmost belief in not only the words she’d just spoke, but perhaps an ever greater universal that lent itself to such principle as a whole. Those words were more hopeful and optimistic than Ofelia (consummate pragmatist, cynic, paranoid) was accustomed to, and they gave her pause. She cast another thoughtful, assessing look over Riyeko. There was some of Lea even in this nervous, chattering young woman, Ofelia reflected: it was that intellectual curiosity, the drive to chart the unknown and invent something to fill in the blanks. There was something so intrinsically positive about machinists. Everything can be rebuilt or fixed. It’s just a matter of finding the right parts. She rolled those words around in her head, filing them away with the verbal accuracy befitting an orator. “Well, whatever you deem best. Money isn’t much of a problem. If I’m going to invest in anything properly, it might as well be my health, after all.” Ofelia’s smile was self-conscious. The plague had done a great deal towards reminding her of her own mortality and vulnerabilities—hence, this new business arrangement. “Sure thing!” Riyeko couldn’t help but chirp as the blueprints were fetched, and rolled out across the nearest flat surface. “This one,” A finger pointed to the first set as she began putting weights down to hold the sheet of paper in place with various sketches, notes, and points of reference written all across it. “Shows a brace for extended full support. It’s pretty straight forward with a sleeker design for the ability to be worn under clothing, but the materials will cost more depending on how durable you’d like it.” With the weights in place, the second set of blueprints was snatched up, rolled out, and weighted down next to the first. “This brace,” A finger moved out pointing to the knee joint, and the adjustable wheel on the side. “Will allow for an easier rebuilding of the muscles over time by adjustable pressure support. The major cost on this one is the greater detail required, and tinier parts.” The machinist then fell silent, seeming to consider something. “The parts would probably be best to be made out of mithril, which is sort of expensive so that it’s light.” Either way, fingers moved out over the blueprint indicating each part as she spoke. “Through adjustments made via this handle, it would help to raise or lower support, here. Which would supply the resistance, and strength needed for the given day, but…” Her sentence faded off for a moment, thinking about the obvious. “You might want to get your leg checked out by a medic to see which would be better.” There was another hesitation, as Riyeko’s eyes slipped over both sets of blueprints laid out before them. “Though, I might be more interested in a trade than money if you’d be up for that sort of thing?” It might be far fetched, but with what she’d heard of the other woman’s reputation, it might be worth a shot. “Hm.” Ofelia was leaning over the tabletop, peering at the two different schematics. They seemed the same to her, the small scribbled numbers and gears meaningless. Consulting a medic would presumably be best here; otherwise she would be flying blind with nothing but these hurried descriptions to guide her. “Then, if it’s fine by you, I’ll take these with me to my physiotherapist, see what he says, and I’ll get back to you with which design I’ll commission.” Then, at the mention of trade, the woman’s gaze turned calculating. Most people tended to barter when it came to Zhou—she’d almost lost count of how many nondescript ‘favours’ she owed others. (Almost. In truth, Fee would never forget.) “It wouldn’t be a problem, I often do exchanges rather than gil. What sort of trade do you have in mind, miss Lionward?” “Sure!” Maybe Riyeko shouldn’t have trusted the other woman to do this, in reality, Ofelia could easily take the blueprints to another machinist, and have that person build the brace for her at - likely - reduced cost. Though… The other woman had seemed unconcerned, but… Either way, it was a risky move. “If he has any questions, he’s more than welcome to contact me on the network, or drop by. Wouldn’t want him to try to give you an opinion without knowing how things worked.” A smile was offered, one that was a bit nervous, but it was there, and for the most part sincere. “Um, well, you see…” The machinist’s gaze dropped, her jaw shifting slightly and fingers coming to interlock together while being half closed over her palms. “There’s a man I’ve been looking for, for many years. He…” The story was one she’d never liked telling. “Took a lot of money from my family, and I’d like to find him, and,” The sentence fell off, what she’d do once she found the man to make him give the money back she wasn’t sure. “Get back what he took.” Riyeko’s gaze finally rose, the smile still unsure. “It’s, it’s mostly just gil, a few personal things, nothing probably of any worth to anyone other than my parents.” At this point she’d started to shift uncomfortably, the look on her face a bit more remorseful than not, regardless of herself. “I just,” She shifted again. “I just need help finding him, and I heard you might be able to help.” Really, getting involved in this entire guild, her whole life point - aside from making dreams and fantasy a daily part of her reality - had been trying to seek this man out, if she could just figure out where he was then…. Maybe she could move on some with her life. Start a new chapter as it was. For all that the story seemed to have deeply affected Lionward (and of course it would have), it was still an old and recognisable tale: conman ingratiates self with family; conman absconds with life savings. Ofelia knew her own share of criminals who could have done it, for that matter. But a job was a job. “Well,” Ofelia said, “my specialty is finding people.” She gave a crisp smile, her own professional mask slipping back into place. (Less the vulnerability she’d already exposed, the handicaps she loathed bringing up outside a safe space.) So their meeting stretched out, and she wrung the details out of Riyeko note by note, piece by piece, going over the Lionwards’ history and building a new dossier, another folder for the pile of active cases. |