Taking The First Steps
Characters: Meg Setting: The workshop, afternoon
Over the course of her life, Meg had never really been the sort of person who went in for forward planning. In fact if one were to go back and look over the choices she had made, there was an argument to made that she barely understood the notion of forethought, let alone making decisions with a consideration of their consequences. Then again, she'd never been in the kind of situation that truly warranted that kind of thinking from her until the one she currently found herself in and while it was difficult for her to not simply react to what had happened, she was also aware enough to realise that there was going to be no kind of resolution until she got proactive.
Her plan wasn't a complicated one, in truth it was ridiculously simple, but it was a plan none the less and after her morning with Kyle it was time to put it into action. A list of names had been made and it was just a matter of systematically eliminating them from the list until she found the right one. Before she could do that however, she knew she needed to arm herself with something, something she could keep on her person so that when the moment presented itself, she would be able to make the most of it. To that end, she had lifted a pair of knitting needles from the activity room before leaving, an idea forming in her mind.
The workshop was thankfully empty when she arrived and after a few minuted of searching, she managed to locate the tools she needed and with a grim look of determination on her face, she set to work. Utilizing a vise attached to one of the workbenches, she slipped the first of the knitting needles she'd stolen into its jaws and after fastening them shut firmly around it, took the metal file she'd found to the tip of the needle, moving it with short deft strokes. There was something incongruous about the visual she presented in that moment, dressed in her usual shorts and tank top, practically dwarfed by her surroundings and yet totally assured in her actions, honing the tip of the needle into a viciously sharp point. It was a time consuming activity and Meg was sweating by the time it was finished but the expression she wore was one of satisfaction as she pressed her palm to the tip and it pierced the skin with ease.
"Perfect," she said quietly and, twisting her hair into a bun, released her improvised weapon and carefully slid it into her curls where it easily held the messy up-do in place. Then, as a small smile began pulling at her lips, she took her new accessory's still blunt twin and clamped it into the vise to receive the same treatment. After all, it wouldn't do to just have the one.