Elsbeth, the mad engineer

Darkness shrouded the stifling room as heat bore into O’Malley’s skin. His boots clipped against the wooden floor loudly amid the ambient hiss of steam from the pipes around him. He removed his jacket almost instantly; sweat beating on his forehead, or was it water vapour?

A woman with short red hair stood a head of him with her back turned, obscured by the mist O’Malley could make out very little of the rest of the room, but the woman had a stocky build and wore a large skirted dress like the nobles of the cities, only the top was unzipped and tied around her waist, a plain white corset tied loosely around her mid-rift and a white vest that clung to her shoulders under that.

The same mist that was starting to moisten O’Malley’s shirt was clinging her fringe to her forehead, her sideburns to her face and generally messing her short hair. She had turned at O’Malley’s approach, she held a Spanner in one hand and a compass in the other, now behind her was a bench full of work tools.

“You’re the Engineer?” O’Malley asked her.
“That I am. What you wanting?” She replied rather curtly.

O’Malley looked her up and down; he’d seen plenty of engineers in his time, but she was not what he had expected. Normally he found engineers in the lower class, or those in the upper class had started in the lower class, or didn’t quite fit in the upper class. This lady had obviously grown up in money, the way she stood, the way she spoke, the odd choice of dress.

“What, never seen a female Engineer, or are you stunned by my unwavering beauty in such a situation?” Sarcasm laced ever callable or her question.
“On the Contrary.” O’Malley replied calmly “I’ve never seen an Engineer born into money, and better yet then wind up working on a smuggling ship and avoid human contact as if she were worried of disease.”
“And what makes you think I was born into money?” she challenged.
O’Malley stared at her blankly for a moment, blinking slowly, “Very well, your history is your own my lady, if you wish to keep it a mystery far be it from me to deface that, but I must ask, why am I down here?”
She handed him the spanner and the compass, turned on her heel and addressed the bench momentarily. O’Malley stared quizzically at the items in his hand but she turned back before he could address his confusion; this time she held a boot in each hand, not too different from his own in the general, but with two large, cog based contraptions on the heel of each foot.

“Uhh?” O’Malley was lost for words in his confusion.
She frowned at his “Well put them down we don’t need them”
O’Malley looked left and right, noting the lack of any surface he stepped passed the young lady and placed them delicately on the work bench.
“Splendid” she said “These are your new shoes.” she handed him the boots.
“My new shoes? My boots are fine you understand, maybe a little worn, but not unserviceable.”
She raised an eyebrow, then thrust the boots into O’Malley’s hands. “These boots have a unique piece of technology on the bottom of them I have spent months designing. Now put them on and I shall explain.”

O’Malley eyed her suspiciously, but did as he was told, unzipping and slipping each boot off. As he did the lady began speaking.
“Each boot has a home-made sticking device on it designed to attach you to the wall, or roof of any building. It creates a powerful field of, well, basically magic, that will hold to almost anything, but I’ve only been able to get it to work up to a certain strength, which is not much above what I would estimate you to be.” She spoke quickly, directly, and with the presence of a socialite.
“Wait what?” O’Malley demanded when she finished, half way through removing his second boot. “Stick me to a wall? With magic? Are you a mage too?”
“Of course not, I just woke beyond the walls of science, something I expect you to not understand so I will NOT be explaining it. Just put them on, you’ll need to strap yourself in.”

O’Malley did as he was told, strapping him-self into leather harnesses inside the boot; it was a little awkward to get the inner ones but he managed it in a few minutes. They were comfy – pretty expensive feeling boots – and stood slightly higher on the heel than his own boots, but not offputtingly so. The lady stood, arms crossed, tapping her finger on her own skin, as she waited.

“Right then let us test them then shall we?” She said, almost excitedly, the moment O’Malley finished.
“Tes..t…?” O’Malley questioned
“Oh hush,” she began impatiently “You activate them like this.” She bent down between his legs as he tried to look awkwardly around her head.

She wacked a leaver on each boot unceremoniously with the back end of a spanner O’Malley hadn’t seen her pick up. A blue web spread out from the boot reaching about 5 inches away from the sole, glowing blue light spreading between each web, then, as the circle of light completed, it vanished.

“There we go, step on the wall.” She said this as if it were a normal every day thing to say.
“Just… put my foot, on the wall?” O’Malley frowned as he questioned her.
“That would be what I said, would it not? Now go on, before I grow a moustache.”
“Just, just checking I heard you correctly ma’am, and I assure you a moustache would not suit you.” O’Malley approached the wall. The ceiling was only a few inches above his head anyway, so he guessed this was a good place to test something like this.
“Just in case I fall and die, could I actually know your name my lady?” he turned to see her watching, almost bored.
“Elsbeth.” She replied, the motioned for him to hurry up.

O’Malley sighed, squared his shoulders, shirt now fully stuck to his chest, face wet with both sweat and water mist. Before he could lose his nerve he stuck his left foot out and placed it flat on the wall in front of him; the blue web and light shot out again, now fully formed, and didn’t dissipate. Putting his weight on that foot he lifted his other foot off the floor, closing his eyes, half expecting to end up on his arse.

The left foot did not fall, holding his weight solidly, if awkwardly, on the back of the heel, and his right foot landed on the wall also, the blue web shooting out again. His weight seemed to sit on the back of the boots, the cog machines stopping the boots from ripping. The cogs has also begun whirring quite loudly as the mechanisms worked some unknown machine.

“I must confess,” O’Malley said, the unease quavering into his voice “This is mildly strange.”
“Splendid.” Elsbeth exclaimed happily “Now, they’re yours, so don’t break them or I shall be unhappy, and I would advise practicing with them before you need to use them properly.”

Raven’s Theoretical Construct of Potato Relaxation

Alarura looked down at Raven; her black pony tail shining in the brilliant daylight, breeze fondling it softly around her neck.

“Why are you peeling potatoes?”

Raven looked round calmly making eye contact with Alarura’s knees, before looking up to her face “Pardon?”

“You’re peeling potatoes, isn’t that the crews job?”

Raven smiled. “I like it”

Alarura gave her a confused look.

“What’d you mean you enjoy peeling potatoes?”

“Here” Raven passed her a knife and an unpeeled potato, she then raised her hand in front if her. A globe of water floated up from the bowl next to her, and stopped in the air just above the ground in front of Alarura. Raven’s eyes beginning to glow blue with that tell tale sign of magic.

Alarura looked skeptical but sat and took the two objects.

“You see” Raven began “a potato is simple.”

Alarura held the knife cack-handed and seemed not to know how to place it. She frowned frustratedly at the vegetable, feeling Raven’s gaze over her shoulder.

Raven sighed and held up her own potato. She dipped it in her own globe of water and then placed the knife on the potato to indicate Alarura should do the same.

“It’s plain and unquestioning. The potato never wants you to worry about in coming empire soldiers to arrest you for smuggling, it never worries you with tales of demons and Angels, or lost worlds or vampires. It’s just a potato. You place the knife, you pull it back, the skin comes off. Repeat until said potato is clean.”

Alarura stared at the potato for a moment. “I get that I guess… It’s…” she trailed off.

“A nice, quiet task, no thought. Relaxing.” Raven finished for her, happiness playing at the corners of her lips.

Alarura scoffed, but she did not move. She watched Raven peel a few more times, then placed her own knife on to the potato.

The two faded into silence, only the sound of knives carving vegetable between them. A soft breeze caressed their warm faces as they worked at their tubas in the sun’s heat.