04.6.920
The Beryl Workshop and the Cog & Sprocket
Sav
With the nervous energy of the past year suddenly focused like sunlight through a lens on a single, concrete goal—find the new Shard—Sav throws herself into the work with a will and devotion she hadn’t felt in months.
The burst of energy the unexpected visitor brought her sustains her for a good sixteen hours.
The next twelve come through increasingly-frequent cups of coffee followed by twenty-minute catnaps, which keeps them good for at least three, four hours each cycle.
The twelve after that are sustained through hour-long naps (grease pencil set to the side, head laid down on the table on their notes, forehead pillowed on forearms), and brisk walks outside without a jacket, interspersed regularly throughout. And coffee, of course.
Eventually, even those aren’t sufficient to keep the world from blurring, letters and numbers swimming as lead-weighted eyelids slide shut, Sav following suit by sliding to the floor with a muffled thud.
Bax
After a third day of staking out the guards and traffic of House Diamante, Bax was returning to the Cog and Sprocket. His mood was fouled as the gentle snow falling through the steamy air was becoming dusted with flecks of browns and dark reds. An obvious sign that he was crossing the border that separated the upper section of the city from the standard citizenry. He glanced behind him and spit in the general direction of those in power before squeezing himself out of a tight alley back onto the main thoroughfare of the quiet city streets.
Despite the obvious sunlight, it was the time of day polite society had decreed to be the period of paused business and sleep. Exhaustion prodded at his aching eyes as Bax was ready to return to the inn and curl up into his nest in the corner of the room. Before realizing though, his body had carried itself to the workshop that Sav and Gwin had set themselves up in; not quite far away from the inn but certainly a detour. He had opted to not bother them so they could better focus on their work over the past three days but he shrugged, figuring he could stand to see some friendly faces now. They could probably do with some refills of their coffees as well.
Bax quietly pushed his way inside and gently closed the door behind him so as to not distract from the busy work. Turning, he didn’t see either Sav or Gwin, assuming they may have stepped away to stretch their legs. Not a problem, he would take the opportunity to freshen up their drinks and check they were eating well enough. As he stepped through, he noted that Gwin’s workstation was cleaned up, indicating she had finished for the day. He glanced to Sav’s desk and could see a hand laid out on the floor, causing him to pause in his tracks. Taking a few steps back, he identified the hand and could see Sav splayed across the floor.
“Sav!” he cried.
Bounding over tables and instruments of study, Bax was by Sav’s side in only a moment. He pressed a glowing hand onto her shoulder, whipping his head around for any surprise attacks. He could feel the energy release from his palm but could tell nothing was absorbed. His heart rate quickened and sweat was beginning to bead on the back of his neck before Sav’s lids tensed and slid open fractionally, gray-green eyes just half-focusing on him and registering who he was before she muttered something
incomprehensible and relaxed, lids thudding shut again.
They were only sleeping.
With a relieved sigh, he fell backward into a seated position, hand over his chest, trying to calm his racing pulse. Chuckling, he whispers at Sav, “I’m just gonna assume you did this on purpose. Payback for when I’ve gotten knocked out in battle. Well, don’t do it again - I don’t think I’m strong enough…”
As if to underline Bax’s realization, a pink nose pops up from the hair feathered around Sav’s neck, and Aloysius pokes his head out, chittering at Bax in a scolding fashion. The rat emerges fully a second later, sitting upright on her shoulderblade with forepaws extended at her in a manner very like, would you believe that, look at this.
Staying seated for a moment, he watches over Sav as they breathe, just to be fully sure. Once all suspicions are relieved, he stands, offering an open palm to the rat friend, and looks across the lab space. Unfortunately, no nook had been set up for extended periods of stay. Glancing down to Sav then to Aloysius, he says, “Well we can’t let them stay like this. And if they’re tired enough to fall into a deep sleep on the cold floor like this, I don’t wanna wake ‘em either…”
He moves to begin gathering Sav’s belongings; having visited the workshop long enough, he knew (mostly) how she liked to leave her desk organized. Recalling how careful and strict Sav was about their notes, Bax released Aloysius on top of the desk and requested, “I know Sav can be weird about their notes but I don’t wanna just leave everything out. Could you gimme a lil guidance on what all I should take or leave?”
Gathering scattered sheets of paper and scribbles into a pack, Aloysius would follow after and squeak approvingly or scratch at Bax’s hand to halt him from touching some important files (for the life of him, he could not tell the difference). He flung the bag across his chest and did his best to gently slide Sav’s cloak over their shoulders, hoisting them onto his back.
“Heh heh, you’d hate this if you were awake,” Bax whispers with a warm grin, looking over his shoulder. With Sav secured, he moves to open the door and pauses once more. He removes the sash from his waist and does his best to gently drape it over Sav’s head, hoping it would be enough to keep the sunlight from waking her, before proceeding on his trek back to the inn.
Sav
As they’re shifted around, they issue more subvocal protests, flattened into the crook between Bax’s neck and shoulder where their face is smushed, but never surface back to wakefulness. Aloysius more than makes up for this; he swarms up Bax’s arm and sits on his shoulder, holding onto one ear to keep his balance as he complains long and loud the entire way back to the inn. The crafter is heavier than they look, probably more due to the stuff they keep in their pockets and the folding shield-bracer on their arm than any muscle, given the sharpness of the ribs and elbows that keep poking his back (fortunately softened by the swathes of fabric from the fancy dinner clothes and the heavy cape).
Once outside, a brassy clockwork raven roosting across from the entrance to the lab takes flight, accompanying them back to the Cog and Sprocket. It swoops in with them as they enter, and when Bax stands in front of Sav’s door, Samakhael hops from side to side to get his attention before stabbing its beak repeatedly toward one of the pockets on Sav’s cape.
Bax
“Ah, should’ve thought of that ahead of time, thanks Sam.”
Shifting Sav’s dead weight to one shoulder, he blindly fumbles, attempting to catch the cape pocket. It’s only with assistance from Samakhael and Aloysius that he’s able to maintain his balance and retrieve the key to Sav’s room. He lets himself in, leaving space for the brass and bronze raven to hop in behind him, flapping up to the open desk against the wall as he shuts the door.
A series of curious whistles sounds behind him, and Nuri’ete floats out from the illusion of a plain wall that covers the door to the next room that Sav has converted to a hidden workshop, still clad in his spherical brass disguise. He whistles in a rising descant of concern before Samakhael flutters forward and seems to convey something in an elaborate series of hops, bobs, clicks and whirs, upon which Nuri’ete chirps in a descending scale and floats on a bit closer, the green-tinted orb flashing as he observes.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bax leans back slowly, supporting their weight, allowing Sav to gently fall to the mattress. Once laid flat, Bax gingerly moves the body so their head is actually laid on the pillow. He carefully removes the cape and, with effort, is able to unfasten the weighted bracer; Aloysius assists only with squeaks of objection but Bax shushes him, pointedly looking at the sleeping body.
With the heavy objects separated, pulling the smaller items from loose pockets proved much simpler. The cape hung up, the bag of notes leaned against the side table, and the shield-bracer situated next to the pillow, Bax pulled the blanket over Sav’s body. He kneeled down so his face was level with theirs and spent a moment watching them sleep again - it was rare to ever see Sav fully rested like this.
He smiled, whispering to them, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
Glancing up, he finds Aloysius finally settling under the blanket with Sav, as the metallic bird only looked on from atop the desk, and Nuri’ete bobbed up and down with hushed musical notes. “But seriously,” he says at a louder whisper so as to be heard by the companions, “Let’s keep this between us. I don’t want Sav to feel embarrassed or anything.”
A quiet huff is all Aloysius offers in response; Samakhael merely cocks its head as though studying him; Nuri’ete spins. “Thanks guys.
“Alright…” turning back to Sav, he finds his hand on the side of her face. The unconscious movement caught him off guard and he had to force himself from jerking his hand away. A memory, something that felt as though it had always swirled at the cusp of realization, pushed its way through. Maybe it was the recent play that had triggered it, he couldn’t be sure, but bittersweet joy filled his stomach as he fought back against tears welling up.
“Y’know,” Bax continued, his voice near silent and his tone soft, “My dad, when I was real young and before he got too sick, had this little ritual he’d do when he thought I was asleep. But I actually caught him doing it a handful of times, just never told him. I didn’t wanna break the illusion cuz of how comforting it was, I guess. I think it went something like…” He leaned into his palm and lightly caressed Sav’s temple, attempting to match the sensation of his father’s hand movements as best he could recall, reciting a nearly two-decade old forgotten poem.
‘Don’t wait for the good dreams;
Go and make your own;
And if all you can find is nightmares;
Know I’ll be here - you’re never alone.’
After a moment longer, Bax’s eyes go wide and he blushes harshly. He lifts his hand away from Sav and quickly stands, stepping away from the bed. “Shit, that was weird wasn’t it? Haha, w-why’d I do that? Sorry, sorry Sav…” he mumbles to the sleeping genius.
Moving to the doorway in haste, he continues muttering, “Sorry, sorry, g’night guys, sorry, g’night…” This carries on into the hallway as he quietly shuts the door, locking it and sliding the key underneath, back into the room.
Sav
It is a truism that people look younger when sleeping, and Sav is no exception. These days, with their growth having caught up after years of stress and malnutrition, they look a bit older than their 20 years, but in sleep the effect is reversed. Their face is rounder, the tense lines of wariness and the angles of a tightened jaw gone soft and relaxed.
At the touch, she sighs and turns her head toward it, mouth falling slack. A moment later, a very gentle snore issues forth. It hitches and stops as the door shuts, and she mumbles something and turns over. She doesn’t twitch as Aloysius buries himself in the pillow next to her neck and Samakhael flutters to its customary perch on the headboard, beginning its sleeptime vigil.
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