hephaesta

[hephaesta]

Back home...

Question: What will you do?

Response: Right to head home - I think Reginald’s jacket’s done.

You turn right to follow the road back home. Darts runs every week but Reginald will only wear his jacket for the first time once.

In the cottage Deema stands alone holding Reginald. It looks like Isla's gone but left some of their good cheer behind, but before you can unwisely comment on that Deema holds Reginald up with a rare smile.

You can't help but return it at the sight of Reginald buttoned up in his new jacket. It's black, like yours, and as long as it can be on a little toy bird.

'He looks better than you,' Deema says bluntly.

'He does! I might make him a scarf.' You make a note to stitch sigils on it too - he'll be able to stay warm without a heat stone or being tucked into your jacket.

You take advantage of Deema's good mood and convince her to go over your notes. She points out areas of improvement from what she can make of your sketches - your choice of fans and the way you moved your wrist - while ignoring your questions about Isla.

When she scans the last page you had scrawled on she shrugs. Your notes are all fine, she says. The last job went fine too and you just need more practice.

Writing up the job's report barely takes any time - this might have been your first solo job but you've long ago taken over writing Deema's reports. You spend the rest of the evening sorting out your letter to Dessa by the fire - you've been putting it off for much too long, and surely by now she'll be long expecting a letter.

You straighten Reginald's jacket once the letter's complete. Before you can pick him up Deema swoops in to have him join her by the fire.

--

The next morning you see Reginald sitting alone by the embers of the fire. You kneel next to him, concerned, and ask, 'Hey buddy, did you get lonely out here?'

Reginald wobbles uncertainly and takes several seconds to fall forwards. Don't care.

You take his word for it and tuck him into your jacket. If you're able to track down a graveyard witch you'll have to talk to them about getting Reginald in touch with his feelings.

You go into town, Reginald in your jacket and basket on your arm, and run through your errands - returning library materials, posting the letter addressed to Dessa, and turning in the report to a council worker who looks barely awake enough to acknowledge you.

The real question is: has enough time passed between updates that I should put a little summary?

I've discovered the joys of writing on company time so hopefully I can do these quicker though 🙃

[hephaesta]

Start

Previous | Next

Back home...

Question: What will you do?

Response: Right to head home - I think Reginald’s jacket’s done.

You turn right to follow the road back home. Darts runs every week but Reginald will only wear his jacket for the first time once.

In the cottage Deema stands alone holding Reginald. It looks like Isla's gone but left some of their good cheer behind, but before you can unwisely comment on that Deema holds Reginald up with a rare smile.

You can't help but return it at the sight of Reginald buttoned up in his new jacket. It's black, like yours, and as long as it can be on a little toy bird.

'He looks better than you,' Deema says bluntly.

'He does! I might make him a scarf.' You make a note to stitch sigils on it too - he'll be able to stay warm without a heat stone or being tucked into your jacket.

You take advantage of Deema's good mood and convince her to go over your notes. She points out areas of improvement from what she can make of your sketches - your choice of fans and the way you moved your wrist - while ignoring your questions about Isla.

When she scans the last page you had scrawled on she shrugs. Your notes are all fine, she says. The last job went fine too and you just need more practice.

Writing up the job's report barely takes any time - this might have been your first solo job but you've long ago taken over writing Deema's reports. You spend the rest of the evening sorting out your letter to Dessa by the fire - you've been putting it off for much too long, and surely by now she'll be long expecting a letter.

You straighten Reginald's jacket once the letter's complete. Before you can pick him up Deema swoops in to have him join her by the fire.

--

The next morning you see Reginald sitting alone by the embers of the fire. You kneel next to him, concerned, and ask, 'Hey buddy, did you get lonely out here?'

Reginald wobbles uncertainly and takes several seconds to fall forwards. Don't care.

You take his word for it and tuck him into your jacket. If you're able to track down a graveyard witch you'll have to talk to them about getting Reginald in touch with his feelings.

You go into town, Reginald in your jacket and basket on your arm, and run through your errands - returning library materials, posting the letter addressed to Dessa, and turning in the report to a council worker who looks barely awake enough to acknowledge you.

The real question is: has enough time passed between updates that I should put a little summary?

I've discovered the joys of writing on company time so hopefully I can do these quicker though 🙃

[hephaesta]

Back home...

Question: What will you do?

Response: Right to head home - I think Reginald’s jacket’s done.

You turn right to follow the road back home. Darts runs every week but Reginald will only wear his jacket for the first time once.

In the cottage Deema stands alone holding Reginald. It looks like Isla's gone but left some of their good cheer behind, but before you can unwisely comment on that Deema holds Reginald up with a rare smile.

You can't help but return it at the sight of Reginald buttoned up in his new jacket. It's black, like yours, and as long as it can be on a little toy bird.

'He looks better than you,' Deema says bluntly.

'He does! I might make him a scarf.' You make a note to stitch sigils on it too - he'll be able to stay warm without a heat stone or being tucked into your jacket.

You take advantage of Deema's good mood and convince her to go over your notes. She points out areas of improvement from what she can make of your sketches - your choice of fans and the way you moved your wrist - while ignoring your questions about Isla.

When she scans the last page you had scrawled on she shrugs. Your notes are all fine, she says. The last job went fine too and you just need more practice.

Writing up the job's report barely takes any time - this might have been your first solo job but you've long ago taken over writing Deema's reports. You spend the rest of the evening sorting out your letter to Dessa by the fire - you've been putting it off for much too long, and surely by now she'll be long expecting a letter.

You straighten Reginald's jacket once the letter's complete. Before you can pick him up Deema swoops in to have him join her by the fire.

--

The next morning you see Reginald sitting alone by the embers of the fire. You kneel next to him, concerned, and ask, 'Hey buddy, did you get lonely out here?'

Reginald wobbles uncertainly and takes several seconds to fall forwards. Don't care.

You take his word for it and tuck him into your jacket. If you're able to track down a graveyard witch you'll have to talk to them about getting Reginald in touch with his feelings.

You go into town, Reginald in your jacket and basket on your arm, and run through your errands - returning library materials, posting the letter addressed to Dessa, and turning in the report to a council worker who looks barely awake enough to acknowledge you.

The real question is: has enough time passed between updates that I should put a little summary?

I've discovered the joys of writing on company time so hopefully I can do these quicker though 🙃

[hephaesta]

Be a hero

Break the tie

Fixing...

Question: What will you be doing now?

Response 1: Learning, I guess.

Response 2: Fixing that table.

You ruminate over Deema’s comment about needing to learn while turning the block of wood over in your hands. Its rough surface snags at your fingertips. Hopefully you won’t end up with too many splinters.

The only way out is through, you tell yourself, and pick up a small knife and take a seat by the rickety old table in the backyard.

As you whittle away at the wood, unskilled hands trying to not take too much off (going fine) or scratch your fingertips (less than find) you wonder how you would practice your fanning skills without  bothering everyone in town.

The open hills south of the cottage and outside the town should be sufficient. The long grass will show you how the wind moves and there are plenty of trees with branches that will bend with the strength of the wind.

When the wood is small enough to wedge into the gap in the table you hammer it in with the butt of the knife (a bad idea, as it turns out). It’s not pretty but the table doesn’t shake when you nudge it and you hope Deema won’t be looking under the tabletop any time soon. You make a note to let her know tomorrow.

With the sun setting and rain falling softly, sheltered under the eaves, you massage and suck your scratched up fingertips.

You tuck yourself into bed and sit Reginald on his special stone. He sits contently.

–

Ideas for the best way to introduce Deema to the fixed table exit your mind about as quickly as they appear. After dismissing the thought of bringing it inside you decide to just serve breakfast on it and pile some heat stones around the porch so Deema doesn’t become too cranky.

She is cranky, at first, at the idea of leaving the warm inside for breakfast outside on ‘that old waste of wood.’ But the intensity of her scowl decreases when she presses her fingertip down on the table’s edge and it arely wobbles.

Once she’s satisfied the table won’t collapse under the weight of the tray you carry she grunts her approval. You set the tray down, knowing it’s no different to a round of applause from anyone else.

Reginald sits on the table too. You briefly wonder what he eats before you remember he’s a stuffed toy.

–

You go off to practice on the hills with a pocketful of fans, a notebook, and a spring in your step while Deema reads at her table outside. When you turn back you see Isla come up the path to the cottage. You raise your hand but they don’t see you.

The hills are thankfully absent of people so you’re able to practice as freely as you wish. By late afternoon pages of your notebook are crammed with notes and diagrams pertaining to your fanning speed and the angle you held the fans. You switched between dominant and non dominant hands to give your wrists a break but call it quits when they still ache after a long break.

You stop at the road that leads to town.

I'm setting this one to one week because. Well. It's been a while and I need some time to get back in the groove of things!

[hephaesta]

Start

Previous | Next

Fixing...

Question: What will you be doing now?

Response 1: Learning, I guess.

Response 2: Fixing that table.

You ruminate over Deema’s comment about needing to learn while turning the block of wood over in your hands. Its rough surface snags at your fingertips. Hopefully you won’t end up with too many splinters.

The only way out is through, you tell yourself, and pick up a small knife and take a seat by the rickety old table in the backyard.

As you whittle away at the wood, unskilled hands trying to not take too much off (going fine) or scratch your fingertips (less than find) you wonder how you would practice your fanning skills without  bothering everyone in town.

The open hills south of the cottage and outside the town should be sufficient. The long grass will show you how the wind moves and there are plenty of trees with branches that will bend with the strength of the wind.

When the wood is small enough to wedge into the gap in the table you hammer it in with the butt of the knife (a bad idea, as it turns out). It’s not pretty but the table doesn’t shake when you nudge it and you hope Deema won’t be looking under the tabletop any time soon. You make a note to let her know tomorrow.

With the sun setting and rain falling softly, sheltered under the eaves, you massage and suck your scratched up fingertips.

You tuck yourself into bed and sit Reginald on his special stone. He sits contently.

–

Ideas for the best way to introduce Deema to the fixed table exit your mind about as quickly as they appear. After dismissing the thought of bringing it inside you decide to just serve breakfast on it and pile some heat stones around the porch so Deema doesn’t become too cranky.

She is cranky, at first, at the idea of leaving the warm inside for breakfast outside on ‘that old waste of wood.’ But the intensity of her scowl decreases when she presses her fingertip down on the table’s edge and it arely wobbles.

Once she’s satisfied the table won’t collapse under the weight of the tray you carry she grunts her approval. You set the tray down, knowing it’s no different to a round of applause from anyone else.

Reginald sits on the table too. You briefly wonder what he eats before you remember he’s a stuffed toy.

–

You go off to practice on the hills with a pocketful of fans, a notebook, and a spring in your step while Deema reads at her table outside. When you turn back you see Isla come up the path to the cottage. You raise your hand but they don’t see you.

The hills are thankfully absent of people so you’re able to practice as freely as you wish. By late afternoon pages of your notebook are crammed with notes and diagrams pertaining to your fanning speed and the angle you held the fans. You switched between dominant and non dominant hands to give your wrists a break but call it quits when they still ache after a long break.

You stop at the road that leads to town.

I'm setting this one to one week because. Well. It's been a while and I need some time to get back in the groove of things!

[hephaesta]

Fixing...

Question: What will you be doing now?

Response 1: Learning, I guess.

Response 2: Fixing that table.

You ruminate over Deema’s comment about needing to learn while turning the block of wood over in your hands. Its rough surface snags at your fingertips. Hopefully you won’t end up with too many splinters.

The only way out is through, you tell yourself, and pick up a small knife and take a seat by the rickety old table in the backyard.

As you whittle away at the wood, unskilled hands trying to not take too much off (going fine) or scratch your fingertips (less than find) you wonder how you would practice your fanning skills without  bothering everyone in town.

The open hills south of the cottage and outside the town should be sufficient. The long grass will show you how the wind moves and there are plenty of trees with branches that will bend with the strength of the wind.

When the wood is small enough to wedge into the gap in the table you hammer it in with the butt of the knife (a bad idea, as it turns out). It’s not pretty but the table doesn’t shake when you nudge it and you hope Deema won’t be looking under the tabletop any time soon. You make a note to let her know tomorrow.

With the sun setting and rain falling softly, sheltered under the eaves, you massage and suck your scratched up fingertips.

You tuck yourself into bed and sit Reginald on his special stone. He sits contently.

–

Ideas for the best way to introduce Deema to the fixed table exit your mind about as quickly as they appear. After dismissing the thought of bringing it inside you decide to just serve breakfast on it and pile some heat stones around the porch so Deema doesn’t become too cranky.

She is cranky, at first, at the idea of leaving the warm inside for breakfast outside on ‘that old waste of wood.’ But the intensity of her scowl decreases when she presses her fingertip down on the table’s edge and it arely wobbles.

Once she’s satisfied the table won’t collapse under the weight of the tray you carry she grunts her approval. You set the tray down, knowing it’s no different to a round of applause from anyone else.

Reginald sits on the table too. You briefly wonder what he eats before you remember he’s a stuffed toy.

–

You go off to practice on the hills with a pocketful of fans, a notebook, and a spring in your step while Deema reads at her table outside. When you turn back you see Isla come up the path to the cottage. You raise your hand but they don’t see you.

The hills are thankfully absent of people so you’re able to practice as freely as you wish. By late afternoon pages of your notebook are crammed with notes and diagrams pertaining to your fanning speed and the angle you held the fans. You switched between dominant and non dominant hands to give your wrists a break but call it quits when they still ache after a long break.

You stop at the road that leads to town.

I'm setting this one to one week because. Well. It's been a while and I need some time to get back in the groove of things!

[hephaesta]

hi im still alive. have most of the next instalment written but im gonna have to scrap like half of it. wish me luck.

[hephaesta]

The rain...

Question: Where do you go?

Response: Walk forward, but not all the way.

The image of Deema creeping out of the cottage with her fan or whatever other tools she has up her sleeve for long-distance weather casting drives you to jog through the grass and get closer to the clouds. You slow down when the ache you’ve been growing accustomed to blooms in your knuckles. Over your shoulder the figures of Moss and his horse have grown indistinct and ahead of you the clouds loom a moody grey.

This will be close enough to reach them with your fan.

You adjust Reginald in the front of your jacket to make sure he has a good view of the frankly stunning scenery, and then lay a few crystals on your open palm. The wind will pick up soon, going off how your hands feel. You use the fan to blow the crystals up in the air and straight ahead of you, and blow more to the clouds on your left and right without bothering to stop and watch what happens.

After judging the clouds as sufficiently dealt with (the growing ache in your knuckles has nothing to do with it) you pull your mitts on and retreat to where Moss and his horse are. He raises his eyebrows when he sees Reginald tucked in your jacket.

‘Bring that bird everywhere?’

‘He’s a good lad,’ you say as you crawl in the wagon.

Moss clicks his tongue at his horse. When the wagon starts moving he asks, ‘What did you do there?’

‘Uh, getting those clouds to let some rain out before it reaches the town.’

‘Let’s see if we can stay dry,’ he says, and flicks the reigns.

But it doesn’t take long for light rain to catch up to you.

–

The rain is still drizzling down on you when you reach Wreck Reef but it doesn’t show any signs of getting heavier.

You alight from the wagon as gracefully as you can, given how the ache in your joints hasn’t completely faded. Even with the sigils, your mitts and jacket aren’t able to keep you completely warm and dry and you’re more than ready to cast them off.

‘Done,’ you announce when you open the door.

‘Sloppy,’ Deema says without looking up.

‘First time,’ you counter.

She mutters something under her breath that sounds remarkably like ‘poor excuses’ and rolls her eyes. Then, in her regular grumble, she says, ‘You would do better to not wait so long next time.’

‘I thought I was supposed to listen to how my body responds to the environment.’

‘I’d hope seeing rainclouds in front of you would help you grasp the situation,’ she says bluntly.

Ah. ‘You know? Yeah, it did.’ You file that piece of advice away. ‘But getting closer let me control where the fan -’

Deema cuts you off with a sigh. ‘You have a lot to learn.’

You suppose you do.

[hephaesta]

Start

Previous | Next

The rain...

Question: Where do you go?

Response: Walk forward, but not all the way.

The image of Deema creeping out of the cottage with her fan or whatever other tools she has up her sleeve for long-distance weather casting drives you to jog through the grass and get closer to the clouds. You slow down when the ache you’ve been growing accustomed to blooms in your knuckles. Over your shoulder the figures of Moss and his horse have grown indistinct and ahead of you the clouds loom a moody grey.

This will be close enough to reach them with your fan.

You adjust Reginald in the front of your jacket to make sure he has a good view of the frankly stunning scenery, and then lay a few crystals on your open palm. The wind will pick up soon, going off how your hands feel. You use the fan to blow the crystals up in the air and straight ahead of you, and blow more to the clouds on your left and right without bothering to stop and watch what happens.

After judging the clouds as sufficiently dealt with (the growing ache in your knuckles has nothing to do with it) you pull your mitts on and retreat to where Moss and his horse are. He raises his eyebrows when he sees Reginald tucked in your jacket.

‘Bring that bird everywhere?’

‘He’s a good lad,’ you say as you crawl in the wagon.

Moss clicks his tongue at his horse. When the wagon starts moving he asks, ‘What did you do there?’

‘Uh, getting those clouds to let some rain out before it reaches the town.’

‘Let’s see if we can stay dry,’ he says, and flicks the reigns.

But it doesn’t take long for light rain to catch up to you.

–

The rain is still drizzling down on you when you reach Wreck Reef but it doesn’t show any signs of getting heavier.

You alight from the wagon as gracefully as you can, given how the ache in your joints hasn’t completely faded. Even with the sigils, your mitts and jacket aren’t able to keep you completely warm and dry and you’re more than ready to cast them off.

‘Done,’ you announce when you open the door.

‘Sloppy,’ Deema says without looking up.

‘First time,’ you counter.

She mutters something under her breath that sounds remarkably like ‘poor excuses’ and rolls her eyes. Then, in her regular grumble, she says, ‘You would do better to not wait so long next time.’

‘I thought I was supposed to listen to how my body responds to the environment.’

‘I’d hope seeing rainclouds in front of you would help you grasp the situation,’ she says bluntly.

Ah. ‘You know? Yeah, it did.’ You file that piece of advice away. ‘But getting closer let me control where the fan -’

Deema cuts you off with a sigh. ‘You have a lot to learn.’

You suppose you do.

[hephaesta]

The rain...

Question: Where do you go?

Response: Walk forward, but not all the way.

The image of Deema creeping out of the cottage with her fan or whatever other tools she has up her sleeve for long-distance weather casting drives you to jog through the grass and get closer to the clouds. You slow down when the ache you’ve been growing accustomed to blooms in your knuckles. Over your shoulder the figures of Moss and his horse have grown indistinct and ahead of you the clouds loom a moody grey.

This will be close enough to reach them with your fan.

You adjust Reginald in the front of your jacket to make sure he has a good view of the frankly stunning scenery, and then lay a few crystals on your open palm. The wind will pick up soon, going off how your hands feel. You use the fan to blow the crystals up in the air and straight ahead of you, and blow more to the clouds on your left and right without bothering to stop and watch what happens.

After judging the clouds as sufficiently dealt with (the growing ache in your knuckles has nothing to do with it) you pull your mitts on and retreat to where Moss and his horse are. He raises his eyebrows when he sees Reginald tucked in your jacket.

‘Bring that bird everywhere?’

‘He’s a good lad,’ you say as you crawl in the wagon.

Moss clicks his tongue at his horse. When the wagon starts moving he asks, ‘What did you do there?’

‘Uh, getting those clouds to let some rain out before it reaches the town.’

‘Let’s see if we can stay dry,’ he says, and flicks the reigns.

But it doesn’t take long for light rain to catch up to you.

–

The rain is still drizzling down on you when you reach Wreck Reef but it doesn’t show any signs of getting heavier.

You alight from the wagon as gracefully as you can, given how the ache in your joints hasn’t completely faded. Even with the sigils, your mitts and jacket aren’t able to keep you completely warm and dry and you’re more than ready to cast them off.

‘Done,’ you announce when you open the door.

‘Sloppy,’ Deema says without looking up.

‘First time,’ you counter.

She mutters something under her breath that sounds remarkably like ‘poor excuses’ and rolls her eyes. Then, in her regular grumble, she says, ‘You would do better to not wait so long next time.’

‘I thought I was supposed to listen to how my body responds to the environment.’

‘I’d hope seeing rainclouds in front of you would help you grasp the situation,’ she says bluntly.

Ah. ‘You know? Yeah, it did.’ You file that piece of advice away. ‘But getting closer let me control where the fan -’

Deema cuts you off with a sigh. ‘You have a lot to learn.’

You suppose you do.

[hephaesta]

I swear I havent abandoned this I have just been Thee Most Tired recently. Anyway.

[hephaesta]

Cloudy...

Question: Where will you go?

Response: Go out - I’ll get better experience outside.

‘I’ll go outside,’ you decide quickly. The table can wait; it’s less important to you right now than a chance to start your first big solo job.

Deema’s face relaxes into relief.

‘Okay, so, clouds rolling in from the north,’ you continue. ‘I assume I’m going to let rain out of them before they build up more?’

‘Yes, either that, divert them, or both. I’ll neutralise them from here if it takes you too long - I won’t suffer for your incompetence.’

‘Thanks, Deema.’ You don’t point out that the incompetence hasn’t been proven yet.

She has you run through your plan backwards and forwards before leaving you to pack. You only bring the bare essentials - Reginald, obviously, the rain crystals that you haven’t used for a while, a fan, and your mitts. You hover over the shards of broken bowl but decide against it - it won't be easy to whittle away at it without having the table to compare it to.

Deema dismisses you by saying that Moss will take you part of he way because she’s paying him, and a little further because he owes her a favour.

Moss waves you into the wagon parked at the cottage gate. He doesn’t offer conversation past a brief hello, electing to talk to his horse instead. You don’t mind.

He only stops when the town is far behind you and the clouds are a little ways ahead. The wind here would blow right through your jacket if not for the sigils.

‘This is as far as the agreement goes.’

You climb out of the wagon as gracefully as you can and stand in grass that ripples with the wind, looking at the sky and thinking over your options. The clouds are darker than they were when you first saw them.

You can stay here, where the telltale twinge hasn’t reached your fingers yet. The fan will be more than enough to blow the crystals to the clouds and there will definitely be enough time to fix the table before dark.

You can go closer to the clouds until you feel something in your fingers - it won’t be entirely comfortable, but you’ll have more control over where the crystals fly.

You could also ask Moss to take you closer in return for a favour. A little rain never hurt anyone.

[hephaesta]

Start

Previous | Next

Cloudy...

Question: Where will you go?

Response: Go out - I’ll get better experience outside.

‘I’ll go outside,’ you decide quickly. The table can wait; it’s less important to you right now than a chance to start your first big solo job.

Deema’s face relaxes into relief.

‘Okay, so, clouds rolling in from the north,’ you continue. ‘I assume I’m going to let rain out of them before they build up more?’

‘Yes, either that, divert them, or both. I’ll neutralise them from here if it takes you too long - I won’t suffer for your incompetence.’

‘Thanks, Deema.’ You don’t point out that the incompetence hasn’t been proven yet.

She has you run through your plan backwards and forwards before leaving you to pack. You only bring the bare essentials - Reginald, obviously, the rain crystals that you haven’t used for a while, a fan, and your mitts. You hover over the shards of broken bowl but decide against it - it won't be easy to whittle away at it without having the table to compare it to.

Deema dismisses you by saying that Moss will take you part of he way because she’s paying him, and a little further because he owes her a favour.

Moss waves you into the wagon parked at the cottage gate. He doesn’t offer conversation past a brief hello, electing to talk to his horse instead. You don’t mind.

He only stops when the town is far behind you and the clouds are a little ways ahead. The wind here would blow right through your jacket if not for the sigils.

‘This is as far as the agreement goes.’

You climb out of the wagon as gracefully as you can and stand in grass that ripples with the wind, looking at the sky and thinking over your options. The clouds are darker than they were when you first saw them.

You can stay here, where the telltale twinge hasn’t reached your fingers yet. The fan will be more than enough to blow the crystals to the clouds and there will definitely be enough time to fix the table before dark.

You can go closer to the clouds until you feel something in your fingers - it won’t be entirely comfortable, but you’ll have more control over where the crystals fly.

You could also ask Moss to take you closer in return for a favour. A little rain never hurt anyone.

[hephaesta]

Cloudy...

Question: Where will you go?

Response: Go out - I’ll get better experience outside.

‘I’ll go outside,’ you decide quickly. The table can wait; it’s less important to you right now than a chance to start your first big solo job.

Deema’s face relaxes into relief.

‘Okay, so, clouds rolling in from the north,’ you continue. ‘I assume I’m going to let rain out of them before they build up more?’

‘Yes, either that, divert them, or both. I’ll neutralise them from here if it takes you too long - I won’t suffer for your incompetence.’

‘Thanks, Deema.’ You don’t point out that the incompetence hasn’t been proven yet.

She has you run through your plan backwards and forwards before leaving you to pack. You only bring the bare essentials - Reginald, obviously, the rain crystals that you haven’t used for a while, a fan, and your mitts. You hover over the shards of broken bowl but decide against it - it won't be easy to whittle away at it without having the table to compare it to.

Deema dismisses you by saying that Moss will take you part of he way because she’s paying him, and a little further because he owes her a favour.

Moss waves you into the wagon parked at the cottage gate. He doesn’t offer conversation past a brief hello, electing to talk to his horse instead. You don’t mind.

He only stops when the town is far behind you and the clouds are a little ways ahead. The wind here would blow right through your jacket if not for the sigils.

‘This is as far as the agreement goes.’

You climb out of the wagon as gracefully as you can and stand in grass that ripples with the wind, looking at the sky and thinking over your options. The clouds are darker than they were when you first saw them.

You can stay here, where the telltale twinge hasn’t reached your fingers yet. The fan will be more than enough to blow the crystals to the clouds and there will definitely be enough time to fix the table before dark.

You can go closer to the clouds until you feel something in your fingers - it won’t be entirely comfortable, but you’ll have more control over where the crystals fly.

You could also ask Moss to take you closer in return for a favour. A little rain never hurt anyone.

[hephaesta]

Table fixing...

Question: Study break! You...

Response: Fix the table.

There's enough time left in the day to start considering fixing the wobbly table. It'll make future study sessions more pleasant and maybe Deema can, like, have tea on it or something.

You bundle up your study materials and leave them inside in a place you can’t possibly miss tomorrow morning. There’s no way you’re getting work done now the table’s snagged your attention.

Closer examination shows the join between one of the legs and the tabletop isn’t flush. Your prodding reveals the folded scraps of paper wedged in the gap in an effort to close it up are falling apart.

You sigh and pull the papers from the gap. A thought occurs to you and you try to lay them as flat as you can to see if they might be useful but the papers all seem to be old shopping lists.

It was worth a shot, you think to yourself as you scrunch them up. You’ll just have to find a block of wood to wedge between the tabletop and leg.

Which is what you’ll do tomorrow.

--

The next morning you scour the yard and cottage for anything that might be useful. You're almost ready to take up Lex's offer for some driftwood when you find what looks like a broken wooden bowl at the back of a cubpoard. You pick up the biggest pieces and leave them on the table outside for later.

‘New job,’ Deema mutters when you're back inside.

‘From the council?’ You're very okay with plans changing, you tell yourself.

She makes a disgusted sound. ‘No. Clouds rolling in from the north. You can go out on your own or handle it from here.’

[hephaesta]

Start

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Table fixing...

Question: Study break! You...

Response: Fix the table.

There's enough time left in the day to start considering fixing the wobbly table. It'll make future study sessions more pleasant and maybe Deema can, like, have tea on it or something.

You bundle up your study materials and leave them inside in a place you can’t possibly miss tomorrow morning. There’s no way you’re getting work done now the table’s snagged your attention.

Closer examination shows the join between one of the legs and the tabletop isn’t flush. Your prodding reveals the folded scraps of paper wedged in the gap in an effort to close it up are falling apart.

You sigh and pull the papers from the gap. A thought occurs to you and you try to lay them as flat as you can to see if they might be useful but the papers all seem to be old shopping lists.

It was worth a shot, you think to yourself as you scrunch them up. You’ll just have to find a block of wood to wedge between the tabletop and leg.

Which is what you’ll do tomorrow.

--

The next morning you scour the yard and cottage for anything that might be useful. You're almost ready to take up Lex's offer for some driftwood when you find what looks like a broken wooden bowl at the back of a cubpoard. You pick up the biggest pieces and leave them on the table outside for later.

‘New job,’ Deema mutters when you're back inside.

‘From the council?’ You're very okay with plans changing, you tell yourself.

She makes a disgusted sound. ‘No. Clouds rolling in from the north. You can go out on your own or handle it from here.’

[hephaesta]

Table fixing...

Question: Study break! You...

Response: Fix the table.

There's enough time left in the day to start considering fixing the wobbly table. It'll make future study sessions more pleasant and maybe Deema can, like, have tea on it or something.

You bundle up your study materials and leave them inside in a place you can’t possibly miss tomorrow morning. There’s no way you’re getting work done now the table’s snagged your attention.

Closer examination shows the join between one of the legs and the tabletop isn’t flush. Your prodding reveals the folded scraps of paper wedged in the gap in an effort to close it up are falling apart.

You sigh and pull the papers from the gap. A thought occurs to you and you try to lay them as flat as you can to see if they might be useful but the papers all seem to be old shopping lists.

It was worth a shot, you think to yourself as you scrunch them up. You’ll just have to find a block of wood to wedge between the tabletop and leg.

Which is what you’ll do tomorrow.

--

The next morning you scour the yard and cottage for anything that might be useful. You're almost ready to take up Lex's offer for some driftwood when you find what looks like a broken wooden bowl at the back of a cupboard. You pick up the biggest pieces and leave them on the table outside for later.

‘New job,’ Deema mutters when you're back inside.

‘From the council?’ You're very okay with plans changing, you tell yourself.

She makes a disgusted sound. ‘No. Clouds rolling in from the north. You can go out on your own or handle it from here.’