Doing Things You Might Regret (Wart)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

48th Day of Summer, 512 AV It had been another long day. Tock had spent the day at work dealing with the never yet settled tension between herself and her former-maybe-still-kinda-but-not-quite-friend James. Theirs had been a difficult and complicated relationship. It had started with flirtation and drunken advances. Then there had been a few awkward moments, where nothing ever quite happened. Then, finally, there had been tension that developed when Tock ended up with another man, leading to a confrontation that had more or less ended their friendship. James had barely talked to her for weeks. He would give her the cold shoulder at work, and only talk to her about necessary, work-related things. That is, until he heard that she was no longer with Satevis. Earlier today, he had stepped up to her as she sat at her workbench, carving out an intricate design on a door. Since her boss more or less gave her free reign on such designs, she had been exploring her creativity a bit in her work, and starting to create some more intricate designs. Today's repair job was fixing up a home that had suffered a robbery. Such things seemed to be rare in Zeltiva, but they still happened. She had no idea if the thieves had been caught, and that really had nothing to do with her job. She was just here to repair the consequences, which included a new door to replace the one that had been broken down. Since the owner of the home was an fishmonger, dealing in sales down at the fish market, she decided to carve a nice big swordfish into the door. She'd brought a book down from the library to work today to make sure she got all the intricate details right. She used to just carve basic fish shapes, but she was upping her standards lately. If something was worth doing, it was worth doing right. So she was trying to get every little detail as accurate as possible. James approached her as she was gently tapping her chisel across the wood, cutting out the shape of the fish's fin. When one started really looking into it, there were substantial differences between the shape of a fin on every species of fish, and those kinds of details made all the difference. She kept her eyes on her work, not bothering to glance up at James, considering the way he'd been treating her lately. "Uhhh... hey," he said. She ignored him and just kept working. The arc of the fin needed some careful adjustments, and she switched to a finer chisel, scraping it by hand along what she had already cut in order to adjust the shape. James stood there for a long moment then asked, "Tock? Umm, hi?" "Ain't done said 'i ta me o' 'ad no small talk fer 'alf a season," she said gruffly. "Ain't see no reason ta start now, so piss off..." She was holding quite a grudge. She didn't consider it fair, not at all, that he had started treating her differently just because she got involved with another man. "I just..." he said, stammering a bit. Then he sighed and hung his head, "I heard you and that guy... and things didn't... and I just wanted to say I'm sorry..." Tock glanced up at him, her grip tightening just a bit on her chisel. Eight weeks ago she would have been fighting the urge to stab him with it. The urge was still there, but she had other things on her mind lately. Like a sick little boy in the infirmary. Gritting her teeth, she loosened her grip and looked back down to her work. "Sorry fer what?" she asked in an irritated tone. "What fer 'ow I's 'urtin', o' fer cause ya wanna try an' shag me what now 'at I's available, aye?" He just stood and stared. She knew it had been a harsh thing to say... but petch him. She didn't have time to deal with him and his bull shit. He let out a sigh, scratched his head, and just said again, "I'm sorry..." Then he turned and walked away. She ignored him, keeping her head down and on her work. That was what made the Bossman happy... when she stayed on her work. Not shouting, not causing a scene... even if she wanted to. But she had to make the Bossman happy... Gritting her teeth, she turned her attention to the long nose that gave the swordfish its name. She wanted to make sure to get the proportions right...

[Wart]

Tongue. Stupid. Petching. Vagik. Tongue. They had been getting along just fine since she'd started up at the shop. It was entertaining to sit there and exchange insults with the obnoxious Svefra. He'd come up with something stupid and try to get her to go along with it, she'd turn it down, there was bantering, and then he would drop it until his next scheme. This time, though, he'd pushed it too far too long. A few days earlier he'd been trying to convince her to dress as a prostitute for some stupid prank of his involving some sailors on the docks. Of course she shook him off, and a customer took his attention. For some reason he just wouldn't drop it after this. He mentioned it again the very next day, meeting the exact same reaction of complete declination. This continued every day, and he became more determined and annoying with the requests, despite how blatantly he was turned down. The fact that Wart's shoulder also randomly began to hurt progressively worse from a small injury when she'd first been hired only made the situation worse. That morning she had walked to work already sore-tempered. Her shoulder was killing her and she'd hardly slept. The last thing she needed was to be pestered with Tongue, again, but it inevitably happened. This time, instead of firmly declining and going along with the usual harmless insults, her temper became shot and she decided to end his incessant begging the second it started. He had been waiting in front of the store for her. Before he could even start she had stormed right up to his face and grabbed him violently by the shirt. "Listen to me you mental little sea brat. It is not my fault that you can't get a petching woman I am NOT going to be your replacement little slut toy. Yes I was forced to do what you said in the petching initiation but now I'm here and you can't do shyke to change it. Now unlike you I'd like to get some work done so Petch. Off." With that she left him standing there and headed inside. Business that day was slow, and the air in the tattoo parlour was painfully awkward. Tongue had never come in. No one said anything, but inside they all knew Wart was somehow to blame. It wasn't like him to miss work like this. Refusing to believe she was in any way at fault in the situation, she spent the entire time silently fuming. Everyone could sense it and see it in the deep blood colors of her vanthan eyes, and no one dared speak to her, even Lewd. Finally it came to the point that it was obvious there wasn't to be more than four or five customers that day. Deciding that there were better things she could be doing than sitting around in an empty store, Wart approached Lewd, who'd been drinking in his office. "Look, we ain't getting anyone today, if there ain' a point to me being here I'm leavin." Her tone made it obvious that she was more stating a fact that asking permission, so it really didn't matter what Lewd's response was. Leaning back he gave a scrutinizing, almost accusatory look. "Fine Swarthy. Get out." Wart bit her lip, furious at the tone he took but refusing to let herself waste more time by being affected by it. She stormed out, making sure the door slammed hard behind her. Now she walked alone aimlessly through the streets, her mind in a storm. All of her thoughts were driven by irrational anger, most of them immature and not actually making logical sense. Tongue was stupid. Lewd was stupid. Everyone at that petching tattoo shop was stupid what did they know, she didn't need them. She works there so what its for the money it didn't mean anyone could tell her what she could or could not do, she would do whatever she pleased whenever she pleased. If she wanted to leave work she'd leave work. If she wanted to get drunk out of her mind then she would, and no one could stop her. At that moment she passed by a house that seemed to have a bunch of people there working on it. She stopped, only to mentally scoff at the paint job they were lacking. Then a familiar figure caught her eye. She couldn't tell from where she was standing, but it looked like Tock. She hadn't seen or spoken to her since she had painted her wall way earlier in the season, but she recognized the hair and the overall figure. Desperately needing some sort of distraction, she wandered over to the house. Wart blatantly disregarded the fact that this was probably a busy work site and made her way straight to where the woman was sitting. If anyone intended to stop her, they would be met by a glare that spoke of unspeakable violence. As she approached, it was clear that it was indeed Tock, and that she seemed to be carving a design into a door. A swordfish, to be exact. Knowing all too well how if felt to be interrupted when working on something as delicate as the chiseling she was doing, Wart chose to stay back and watch, silently. The detail was precise, careful. She had no idea the woman was a wood carver, though remembering the strange wooden creatures from their meeting, she wasn't altogether surprised. When finally she seemed to be finished with the nose of the swordfish, Wart decided it safe to speak. On another day she may have given voice to the admiration she had for what she saw as an excellent piece of work. As it was, however, her mind remained clouded by emotion and her words were simple. " 'S a good fish." OOCI am soo sorry! I have no idea how it turned out this long!

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOCLol *hugs* No worries! A) mine was just as long, B) it was an interesting read and I love Wart's attitude! and C) NEVER apologize for it being too long (only for it being too short, no double entendre intended). We're here to write, so write all you want! As the girl walked onto the workzone, a couple of workers did indeed call out to her to stop. But at the glare she sent their way, the men just backed off and muttered, "Must be one of Tock's friends..." They didn't know anyone else who could glare quite like that... Handy, Tock's wooden hand automaton, was sitting on the table, bored. Well, he wasn't really bored; he lacked the sense of understanding about the passage of time needed to experience that emotion. But he was tapping his wooden fingers on the table the way his Mommy did when SHE was bored, mimicking the habit she'd programmed into him. He couldn't help her with this task, because it was too detailed, and his capabilities were too limited for such expert work. Thus with nothing to do, he fell back on his programmed memories of what Mommy did in such a situation. So when Wart approached, the glass eyes on the back of the wooden hand spotted her, and he turned to wave. He didn't actually recognize her; he just tended to wave at anybody, because that's what hands do. Tock didn't really hear the girl's compliment, too focused on her work. She started using some files to add shading to the fish's body to give the illusion of color. The fish in the picture was darker in the scales on its back, and lighter colored on the belly. Such coloration was hard to show on wood without paint, considering the door was all the same color, give or take minor variations between boards. So she gave the appearance of color through texture, grinding the file against the grain on the top half, and carving thicker patterns for the scales to give the appearance of depth. The bottom half she filed lighter, and at a more gentle angle, leaving more of the natural wood color. The contrast created between the different textures, the angles she had filed at, and the depth of the cuts gave the same look to the fish's body as if she'd painted different colors across the top and bottom. It was a difficult trick, one she'd only recently worked out the final intricacies of, after many crude early attempts on other projects. She was quite proud of the end result. Eventually Handy tapped her on the arm to get her attention, and pointed adamantly at Wart. Tock looked up and grinned. "Oy, Conch!" she called out in greeting. "Wotcher!" Her irritation with James, while not quite faded, was pushed back to a dull simmer when she saw a fellow person of passionate craft before her. Of course, she could still see James out of the corner of her eye, lingering nearby while acting like he was organizing some supplies. She didn't care for the way he was eying her, like he had something to say but didn't have the balls to say it. If he would step up and act like a man, instead of slinking away after her insulting retort, maybe they would actually get somewhere. As it was, she was so irritated with him that she just wanted him to piss off. And since she'd been doing better about not getting into screaming matches on the job lately (well, for the most part), she didn't care to have James ruin her good streak by pissing her off enough that she wanted to bleed him all over the fishmonger's front lawn...

[Wart]

oocAww Thank you! And double entendres are so fun Wart hadn't initially noticed the wooden hand, having been focused only on the door. When it waved at her she promptly stepped back, staring at it distrustfully. Like most prejudices, she didn't understand magic, this resulted in a fear, and being who she was, she couldn't accept such a fear and turned it to anger at the concept as a whole. Animation especially. In her opinion, inanimate objects had no business moving like that on their own. With Tock's creatures though, she still couldn't help but be a bit intrigued at least at the design itself. So her judgement was reserved. All the same she had no idea how to react at this one, so she merely gave it a halfhearted wave and readily turned her attention back to the door. The methods she was using were interesting to say the least. Wart would personally have preferred actually painting it, but she appreciated the beauty in keeping true to the wood itself. The chiseling, the textures, depth, the effect of it all was perfect. Rarely impressed as she was, Tock's design here was definitely worth noting. As she became caught up in watching and analyzing, her previous anger was temporarily forgotten, her eyes easing back into a reddish purple. When Tock turned and greeted her she smiled back. There was only one thing she picked up on with all of the storytelling back in Avanthal, and that was an appreciation for different accents. Her mother had always tried to teach her to speak so proper while learning common, but she always found the other different dialects she heard so much more interesting. And Tock's was certainly different than most she'd heard. "Hey -" Unfortunately, on hearing her question, the reason she'd ended up here in the first place took its place back in the front of her thoughts. Quickly suppressing herself down to silently seething she sighed and ran her hand up through her hair. "Avoiding vagiks. Prolly gonna get a few drinks or something," her eyes rolled thinking of the stupidity of the whole situation." I dunno. Saw you o'er here thought I'd see watcha workin' on."

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

When she waved at Handy, the wooden hand gave her a thumbs up in return. That was the most 'communication' his limited intelligence was capable of. His mind was like that of a child, capable but limited in its abilities. Tock nodded to Wart's words. "Aye... petchin' vagiks..." she glanced over at James, who was out of ear shot. "I knows jus' whatcha done means, Conch. Oy, a bloody drink what sounds right good, aye? I could go fer a tucker an' a middie meself..." She put some finishing touches on her design, etching out a few details with a thin gouge, working out minor effects that were too light to need chiseling. Then she sanded the image down, smoothing out any rough patches, while being careful to preserve the grain of the design. When all was said and done she started packing up her tools. Her supervisor, Eavin, saw what she was doing and stepped over. "Whatcha think you're doing, Red?" he asked. "Got another hour of work left..." There was the other source of Tock's restrained rage. "I's all done," she told him, staring him down. "Ain't what nothin' left fer today..." He belched, eying Wart, quite lewdly. "Got another hour left," he repeated. Tock planted her fists on her hips, with her third hand giving Eavin the finger (he learned that one from his mommy). "Eavin, dun even start wit' me today, aye? Ya done knows I stay late 'alf the days anywho, I done gots a friend 'ere, we's gonna go out drinkin', an' ain't what nothin' left fer ta does now anyway, aye? So piss off, 'fore I go fetch Jack..." She was really sick of dealing with this drunkard. She'd busted his nose once already, last spring, and one of these days she was going to do it again...

[Wart]

On hearing Tock say she'd like a drink as well she cracked a small smile. "Well we'll jus hafta drink those damned vagiks away together then." When she went back to finishing up the door Wart looked back to where she'd seen Tock glance. Her eyes narrowed at the man who stood a ways off. She didn't like the way he seemed to be hovering around. Nosy brat ain't even workin'. Wart had no idea what he'd done or what the connection there was with Tock, but she didn't care much. The mood she was in, anyone and everyone was a potential target of her anger, justified or not. When another man approached she glared at him. The look he gave her and the belch brought out a look of total loathing and disgust. "Oh Gods you're Lewd all over again..." Her comment was quiet but venomous. Hearing the way he kept pestering Tock she scoffed and stepped forward, unable to stop herself from interjecting when Tock had finished talking. Her demeanor was not unlike the way she had approached Tongue just that morning. "Hey you worryin bout work 'round here how bout you open your petching eyes?! You got that kid over there hoverin' round like he don't know what ta do with himself and you got two more vagiks off over there who got time to try an shoo me outta here. Were any these people were actually doin somethin productive they wouldn't have time for that kinda shyke. Now if you weren't so petching drunk off your ass maybe you could see that Tock ere's actually done somethin useful of actual petching quality! She's done what she's gotta do an then some, if you've got any sorta brain you'll let 'er leave and focus on gettin the rest of this sorry act together." oocI'm sorry for so many oocs but feel free to stop Wart/shut her up, I don't want to get Tock fired :X

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

OOCStop apologizing, lol! It's great! Besides, Tock has been having problems with this guy in a LOT of threads since I started! When Wart started going off on Eavin, Tock snorted, and laughed at the pissed off expression that spread over the drunken supervisor's unshaven face. It was great, and she loved it! She threw an arm around Wart's shoulders, squeezing her, and said to Eavin, "Aye, right? Conch 'ere, she done knows whazzit 'bout! Oy, Eavin', done tells ya what, we can done waits 'ere what til Jack comes over, an' see what 'e 'as ta say, aye?" She grinned, feeling great. A moment ago she'd been angry, and had felt the boiling building up inside of her, not quite ready to explode but on the way there. But the fact that Wart backed her up, and had just the right attitude that Tock loved so much, just turned her mood right around. Eavin stared at the two girls, irritated but off-balance by the fact that he was being double-teamed. Jacques (a.k.a. 'Jack' when Tock said it, not that she could hear a difference in the pronunciation) was standing nearby, talking to some other workers, but keeping an eye on what was happening here. He was well used to confrontations between Eavin and Tock, having had to break them up on more than one occasion. Tock had been forced to restrain her temper for fear that Jacques would fire her if things ever got out of hand again. But today, her temper had been refreshingly wiped clean by her friend here, and it was Eavin who looked about ready to snap. He glanced over at Jacques, who was watching them all quite pointedly. Finally he said, "Bah, petch it!" He turned and stalked off without another word. Leaning on Wart, Tock smirked and turned to the girl and said, "'At's Eavin's speak what fer 'Aye, go 'ead an' leave off early, ya done earned it!'" Wearing a grin, she steered Wart by the shoulders and turned away from the work site, ignoring the look James was giving her from the distance. She gave the Bossman Jacques a little wave, and he gave her an approving nod. He'd been talking to her about holding back and not exploding and causing disturbances on the work site. He seemed pleased that she had managed it this time. "First rounds on me, aye?" she said to Wart. "By which 'at's, first rounds on whatever poor chap what I's talks inta buyin' a couple o' fine lassies like us some drinks, aye?" She snickered. She never paid for her own drinks. Being a cute (if not quite beautiful) redhead had its advantages.

[Wart]

Done with her rant, Wart folded her arms and smirked at the man. The effect it so obviously had on him was perfect. Normally when she went off on something like this to Lewd, he merely laughed at her, which only made her more furious. But seeing how angry this guy here was getting over it, not to mention Tock's enjoyment… The satisfaction almost made her giddy. When Tock mentioned someone named Jack, she had no idea who she was talking about, but by the way she was hanging it over his head she could only assume it must be his superior. She smiled wider, staring right back at him, daring him to say anything against the two of them. Seeing him finally give up and leave in frustration Wart broke out laughing. She hadn't genuinely laughed in what felt like ages. Tock's comment made the situation even funnier. "So kind of 'im, glad he turned around." Wart readily followed the direction she was guided in, suddenly feeling excited and energetic. She loved the independent, no-nonsense demeanor Tock had, and could just feel that tonight was going to be interesting. Wart laughed and nodded about the drinks. Normally she wasn't fond of being implicated as anything feminine, such as 'lass.' At a bar she tended to be one of the guys, making rude comments and getting fights and arguments. But a thought occurred to her. She still had the events of earlier on her mind, and Tongue's annoying petition. To go out and perhaps seduce a man or two would be the perfect way to get back at him in her mind. It was immature and he would never know about it, of course, but petch it the sad irony of it was good enough for her. A mischievous spark in her eyes, she brushed her hair back. "I dunno, 'think the two of us could talk em into a few rounds if we like." After a second of thought she added, though more to herself "An' maybe even into a bit somethin' more."

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Tock strolled along with her arm around her friend's shoulders, laughing at the girl's comments. Though at the last comment she eyed Wart sidelong, wondering just what she was implying. Well, she had a guess, but Tock wasn't that sort of girl. Sure, she was a flirt, but she wouldn't go putting her hands on just any man. Though she had her moments of weakness. "Maybe what see's what we can get, aye?" she replied noncommittally. She had a certain... curiosity about a variety of physical matters. Her experience was seriously limited, having only had her first kiss last Spring. Which was a bit late in life, by some standards. But she'd fought long and hard (literally fought, with fists) to hold on to her purity throughout her Sunberthan upbringing. So she hadn't been too eager to give it away. But maybe there were... some things to try tonight. When they reached the bar, Tock looked around, wondering who they could con some drinks out of. Normally she didn't much care, considering she didn't intend to spend more time than needed around the man. She'd flirt long enough to get a drink, then wander off and find someone else to talk to. Though maybe Wart had something else in mind, and would have different ideas about how to proceed. "Wotcher, Conch?" she asked, nodding around the room. "Anythin' done catches yer eye?"

[Wart]

As it was Wart herself didn't exactly know what she was implying either. She'd never had any physical contact with anyone, save for maybe a fist to the face or a kick to the side. Her father made her distrustful and biased against men, and her mother made her distrustful and biased against women. In a way, she'd lived her life pretty much asexually. In short she by default just hated everyone. Despite all of this, it was a matter of pride, so naturally she was unthinkingly illogical about it. On hearing the tone of Tock's comment her eyes narrowed. Surely it wasn't that huge a deal, was it? When they reached the bar and stopped to look around the edge was suddenly taken off of her rash decision. Catch my eye? Sure things caught her eye, flaws, oddities, actions, different little things that made for potential ammo should insults or rude comments become necessary. But something told her that wasn't quite what Tock had meant by the question. Her hand subconsciously reached up and gripped at her hair. "Uh..." Shyke how do women do this... Looking over at Tock she shrugged, playing it off like she just didn't care or have a preference. "Nah ya know, just uh, whatever. Er whoever." The way she'd suggested getting someone else to buy them drinks led Wart to assume she must have some sort of experience with this so she made the decision to very subtly allow her to go ahead and... do whatever that consisted of, and observe. Of course she would never accept the idea that she had any sort of doubt or apprehension regarding something like this. That would imply some kind of weakness. No, she could get anything she wanted from anyone, didn't matter who didn't matter how. She was simply... biding her time...