Who: Percy and Genji What: Manufacturing a thinly veiled excuse for a tinkerer to nerd over a fully-functional cyborg Where: Marketplace, Everdale When: Today Warnings: A science nerd meeting a functioning cyborg, there's going to be gratuitous science, gratuitous and historical science, historical science that is also incorrect and vaguely magical science, what I'm saying is science-minded people will probably be offeneded Status: On-going
While he had generally decided that relative madness of Ravenmore would provide the most interest to him, Percy was not so foolish as to think he could stand it there all the time. Indeed, he'd spent two mostly sleepless nights in his new flat, enjoying the incredible and gratuitous opulence of indoor plumbing and non-magical electricity before deciding he was going to go insane. It took little effort to determine that he might find a more peaceable and familiar environment (if one lacking in the marvels of what he had decided to call post-modern science) in Everdale.
Everdale presented itself much like the idyllic pastures about Whitestone, at once pleasantly nostalgic and heart-wrenchingly disquieting. No, he wouldn't stay here for an extended period of time. Endless fields reminded him of the farmers he'd abandoned: the people who looked to him and his family for direction and leadership, and that only led him to pangs of guilt about leaving Cassandra.
He'd promised her he'd be there for her, and here he was. Very much not there for her.
Losing himself in work was the only solution. Already, he'd observed that firearms were not so uncommon a thing here as they'd been in Exandria, eliciting in him a deep and gnawing worry, and he'd realized the readily available technology would allow him to improve upon his own weapons immeasurably.
Meandering through Everdale's marketplace, he sought out materials he'd read about mere hours before. One hand held a steaming cup of coffee, and he looked more hipster than somewhat medieval gunslinger, not that he had any frame of reference for the former or any comprehension that the latter might set him apart.
And then. Then. He saw something–someone. "Doty?" The name escaped him unbidden. It was stupid, for the man looked nothing like Taryon's incredible (and unfortunately magical) construct. Percy cut through the crowd to come alongside the man, staring with relatively little shame at what could only be mechanical parts. "Forgive me if this is rude," he said in the way of a privileged man about to say something exceedingly rude, "but you are fascinating."