Production Like Clockwork [Minerva|Montaine]

by **Montaine** on May 6th, 2012, 1:57 pm

The evening outside the bar was chilly as the moon rose and the night rolled in. The glassworker could feel the ice in the air trace goose bumps up his skin. He pulled his coat tighter round his torso and increased his pace. The glassworks weren’t too far from the pub, but it wasn’t precisely round the corner either. His apartment was just across the road in a little building that housed two families, a room paid up by a man who was never there and Monty’s top floor abode. Glass was supposed to be a profitable career but Calbert was notoriously stingy when it came to payday, insisting that apprentices received most of their pay in material costs and experience. Indeed, he had only paid an appropriate wage to Joey and Mory, the former for his skills and the latter for his many years of service and loyalty. However, Banden claimed Mory had information on the boss, and was paid to keep silent about it. Monty found the idea of Mory as a criminal mastermind laughable.

Come the end of Spring, however, Calbert had promised Monty a justified wage, appropriate to someone of his skills. Not that he would move, even if he could afford it. It was comforting having the workshop right next door and his hovel of flat was equidistant between the bar and the marketplace. It wasn’t as though he used it all that much, save for sleeping and occasionally entertaining the odd intimate guest. By the time the glassworker and the eccentric carver arrived outside the building Monty was longing for the warm glow of the ovens.

He turned to his companion, ‘Wait here a tick and I’ll go get it from upstairs,’

The glassworker made his way upstairs and into his room. It was just as cold inside as it was outside and the wooden shutters astride his window were wide open. He quickly moved to seal them shut and grabbed the flint and steel from his hearth. A few strikes got the old thing going and a very meagre warmth began to seep into the frosty corners of the flat. The glassworker moved over to his table, upon which sat a tiny pouch, with its drawstring sealed tight. It was the only thing in the room of any value, and even that was largely sentimental. He sighed as he looked about his home.

If Zeltiva was improving, he’d have to start doing better for himself. With this new resolution he grabbed the pouch and returned to the street outside, where Tock waited for him in the cold night air. He held the tiny thing on his left palm and opened it up with his other hand, revealing the minute, glass horse he had made some thirty nights ago, the replica of the statuette he had broken when he had first encountered glass.

‘She’s not very good,’ he said sheepishly, ‘But I’m going to get better,’

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on May 6th, 2012, 2:32 pm

"I don't get ta see yer place?" Tock whined in mild protest when he left her out in the chill. It wasn't really a big deal; they'd only just met today, and the man deserved his privacy. Monty struck her as the type to take his personal space very personally. She stood down on the street and waited for him, huddling against the cold night air with her arms wrapped around herself.

When he returned she smiled, eying the small bag in his hands curiously. When he opened it she let out a soft gasp, leaning down to look more closely. "Ya made 'at?" she asked, reaching out to touch it, very carefully so as not to break it. "She'a real beaut, she is." She looked up into Monty's eyes with a newfound admiration. He wasn't just a craftsman, he was an artist.

"Can't imagine 'ow 'ard it is ta make somethin' like 'at outta glass," she said. "Even woodcarvin', 'at'd be a right challenge. Ya must got steady 'ands, an' a good eye." She'd seen his careful work with the chisels earlier. While it was clear that hadn't been his tool of choice, the care he had used had been quite evident.

She rubbed her hand along his arm encouragingly and said, "Oy, Glassman, yer a right fine artistic gent, ya are." And a bit of a mystery waiting to be unwrapped.

Tock loved mysteries.

by **Montaine** on May 6th, 2012, 4:08 pm

Montaine smiled. It felt good to have someone appreciate his work. He had spent his whole life being unable to do the simplest of things, running caused him to collapse into a wheezing heap, heavy lifting would render him senseless the rest of the day, he had grown up thinking himself useless. He had found something that he could do, and not just do but do well. He was always so fearful that someday he would discover that the sympathy people had for his condition extended into his work, that truly he couldn’t craft glass at all and people lied to him to preserve his innocence, his naivety.

She liked it and his mood surged. Across the street the workshop glowed with the fires of the ovens and Monty felt a sudden urge to work.

‘Should be about time to put the second batch in, and it’ll be much warmer in there anyway,’ he said, replacing the figurine in the pouch and leading Tock into the glassworks. It wasn’t a large space, and the north and south walls were largely left open to the elements, but the glow from the ovens kept the place suitably cosy at night, in contrast to their searing heat at the heights of summer days. Fogle started at their approach but upon seeing Monty’s face lit up in the firelight he nodded and stood up.

‘They’re just about ready, Mister Redsun, sir, and I got your pipe all clean and waiting for you,’ the novice nodded eagerly and hurried off to one side to grab the necessary tools. The young man was from one of the wealthier families up the hill and though he didn’t necessarily need the work he still showed up every day. The lad was clumsy, inexperienced and could be awful dense on occasion but he had a real interest in glass, and Monty like that. He also like occasionally being shown the deference Fogle frequently heaped upon him.

Monty took the glassblowing pipe from his colleague, ‘Usually you’d use a mould for windows’n things but oft’n you don’t have the right one, ‘n’ the boss ain’t going to shell out for a freebie job,’ he explained, before walking over to the first oven. Fogle sat back in his watch post chair in front of the annealer, but turned it round to face Montaine.

The glassworker slowly, so slowly, inserted the pipe into the batch oven and kept his eye by the end, watching for the reflection of the metal on glass. The tell tale glint told him where the surface of the molten material lay and he scooped up a sizeable amount of the glowing material. The heat of the furnace blasted out of the hole and set the craftsman’s face ablaze in light. He removed his pipe and brought it over to the bench, spinning it all the while. The effect of gravity pulled the malleable molten glass downwards and Monty span it swiftly and expertly in his fingers to keep the momentum up, countering the pull. He placed his lips to the end.

He blew.

The glass expanded as the air funnelled in. The craftsman slowed his spinning down and the balloon stretched outwards and downwards into a long cylinder. The piece glimmered, the thinning material retaining nought but a slight golden hue from its fiery origin, and a red hot glow where the glass met the metal of the pipe. Monty brought the piece, ever spinning, over to the old stone marver and rolled it along to cool it down. Fogle stood up to help and between the two of them they managed to break the piece away from the tool and shear off each end until all that remained was a wide glass tube.

Fogle handed the glassworker the cutter, a carefully crafted blade, with which he scratched a thin line down from one end to the other. They took the piece and inserted it into a second oven, where the heat caused the seam to split, and the cylinder unfurled into a flat pane. Monty did not wait for this, however, instead moving back to the batch to restart the process. The glass would eventually find its way to the annealer, where the two glassworkers would have to move its current occupants to the side in order to fit them in. It was a few bells work, if you included the wait between the second and third ovens, but Monty loved it.

Monty’s eyes occasionally flitted to the eccentric carver as he worked. He’d have to keep an eye on her over the coming seasons. Someone like her, someone with her ambitions, could make waves in the harbour city.

Completed

by **Minerva Agatha Zipporah** on May 6th, 2012, 4:50 pm

Tock's face lit up when Monty invited her into the glassworks. A chance to see how something was made, to learn a new craft... Why, she could kiss him!

So she did. Giggling with joy she grabbed his lapels and pulled him in, planting a firm kiss on his cheek. "Oy, ya sure know 'ow ta show a girl a good time, ya do!" she said, downright giddy.

She then watched eagerly, eyes wide, bouncing on her toes. The long pipe fascinated her, being a tool so different from the ones she was used to seeing. "'Ow long's it take ta melt in 'ere," she asked, nodding to the oven. "An 'ow long can she sit in the 'eat, 'fore she goes bad?" She wanted to know everything about the process.

She watched his expert fingers twirling the pipe, feeling the best from the oven mix with that of her own excitement over the learning experience. "Whazza spinnin' for?" she asked. Her eyes were locked on every part of the process, memorizing the routine. Not that she was going to be content to just watch, of course.

She was completely enraptured at the beauty of the process. It was unlike anything she'd ever done herself. She was used to working with saws and chisels, but Monty's very breath flowing through the pipe was making the glass grow, like a fiery sabre extending from the hands of a God. The molding seemed like magic, done not by cutting or chopping, but just by grace.

She was going to insist on a chance to try this herself.

OOCJust had to get Tock's final reactions in here. Couldn't leave that scene without her response!

by **Echelon** on May 9th, 2012, 9:07 pm

Adventurer's Loot

A Gift
Experience is its own reward.

Tock's Loot :

Monty's Loot :

(This was handled well. Very well. Critiques: Tock, the first half seemed to read more like a screenplay then a novel, not bad, but to get more into the character would be cool - more than made up for by the end. Monty, good thoughts though he seemed very "in the moment" during this thread. It almost seemed out of character for him. Monty usually seems to live in the past. We did see a lot of it during this thread just not as much as usual. It was both refreshing and surprising; hope it was deliberate. If you two ever want to talk about creating a business partnership between your teams let me know. We might be able to work something out that will please your bosses.) - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, please PM me.

Completed Production Like Clockwork [Minerva|Montaine]