Those who are at the forge, when the steam burns your skin-
Who: John Egbert and Eddie Riggs
When: Early Sunday Morning.
Where: Suite 30, Eddie's Forge.
Summary: From one derp to another, life in Facility is hard. John and Eddie share some moments of tenderness while bending steel to their will.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Two lovable, derpy, foul-mouthed blacksmiths.
He probably shouldn't been up this early, but the last few weeks have made even his fitful and often hard-to-time sleep even more unpredictable. The lobotomizations, the missing body parts, the recent terminations - all have shaken him up more than he thought they would. He's kept quiet about it enough, but even the most iron-skinned need a way to vent.
So it was on that morning -if it was even morning, the Facility made it impossible to tell, except by the weird sort of unearthly silence that was the only indicator of how many were still slumbering - when he saw the terminations that perhaps the second floor of the Facility could hear someone hard at work. Perhaps awoken from uneasy dreams by the a ringing sound. They could hear the clank of a hammer on metal, hear the hiss of iron and steel being reworked with focus.
Those who walked in would see a sight. A boy who wasn't quite yet a man - too short yet, but his physique betrayed his strength - in a tight-fitting suit, with a hammer with clothes irons affixed to it, bending metal and forging it to his will. His grip perhaps tighter than usual. Not caring to clear the sweat off his brow, but focusing intently on the work, a backlog pile of sharpened metal carefully set to cool.
His teeth - those that his overbite betrayed - dug into his lip, his face set grimly in face as the rhythmic, steady pounding of metal on metal echoed throughout the room, echoed throughout. There was nothing on his mind but the forge. Creating something out of nothing.
Maybe if he focused hard enough, he could forget the last month.
When: Early Sunday Morning.
Where: Suite 30, Eddie's Forge.
Summary: From one derp to another, life in Facility is hard. John and Eddie share some moments of tenderness while bending steel to their will.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Two lovable, derpy, foul-mouthed blacksmiths.
He probably shouldn't been up this early, but the last few weeks have made even his fitful and often hard-to-time sleep even more unpredictable. The lobotomizations, the missing body parts, the recent terminations - all have shaken him up more than he thought they would. He's kept quiet about it enough, but even the most iron-skinned need a way to vent.
So it was on that morning -if it was even morning, the Facility made it impossible to tell, except by the weird sort of unearthly silence that was the only indicator of how many were still slumbering - when he saw the terminations that perhaps the second floor of the Facility could hear someone hard at work. Perhaps awoken from uneasy dreams by the a ringing sound. They could hear the clank of a hammer on metal, hear the hiss of iron and steel being reworked with focus.
Those who walked in would see a sight. A boy who wasn't quite yet a man - too short yet, but his physique betrayed his strength - in a tight-fitting suit, with a hammer with clothes irons affixed to it, bending metal and forging it to his will. His grip perhaps tighter than usual. Not caring to clear the sweat off his brow, but focusing intently on the work, a backlog pile of sharpened metal carefully set to cool.
His teeth - those that his overbite betrayed - dug into his lip, his face set grimly in face as the rhythmic, steady pounding of metal on metal echoed throughout the room, echoed throughout. There was nothing on his mind but the forge. Creating something out of nothing.
Maybe if he focused hard enough, he could forget the last month.