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Shop Class; Tuesday, Fourth Period [04/23].

Amaya was....distracted today, having spent most of her morning struggling with far too many things. For one thing, she had to get things ready to head back to Daventry, but all the while, she was also getting some really good ideas that she wanted to start in on, but had to remind herself that it would have to wait until she got to the Daventry shop and set up there, and then she'd have fifteen hundred gold coins that gave her the freedom to work on whatever the flip she wanted! And all the while, contending with the urge to actually make something now instead of later, there was the issue of telling Irene about her leaving for a bit right after all that talk about how that's what people do, they leave, there's no getting around it.

Was a part of her honestly just considering going and not even saying anything? Yes. Absolutely. Without a doubt. But another part of her knew that she couldn't do that. Not to Irene. Not now. Maybe not ever.

But on the other hand...

So, yeah, Amaya was feeling really glad this was the last class of the semester so she didn't have to focus too much on trying to actually teach anything, and she really hoped everyone's final projects would prove to be a good distraction from all the things distracting her.

"So!" she said, nodding, and giving her fist a little punch into her palm as usual. "We've reached our last class, and that means it's time to show me what you've worked on for your final projects in creating a Rube Goldberg-esque devise: something that employs a good deal of mechanics both complicated and simple in an overly elaborate way to perform a relatively simple task. I'm really excited to see what everyone's got, so let's just get right into it. Any volunteers to go first?"

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Are you ready for your final?

Stark (and best squirrel)

Lydia Bennet

Short. Sweet. To the point. And very distracted, but Amaya's trying to not let that show!

Show off your Rube Goldberg inspired machines! The more ridiculous, the better, especially if it does, in fact, show a solid understanding of all the things you've learned in class this semester!

Stark, and his tiny furry companion, were happy to show off the complicated yet adorable machine that poured a tiny cup of iced coffee with an even tinier dollop of whipped cream on top.

Stark's favorite bit involved a track and a ball but there were also some delightful bits with spinning arms and pulleys.

She'll deny it if anyone points out that she seems kind of nervous about something. Nervously.

The weather was nice enough that today, to commemorate Amaya's last class (or perhaps for some other reason?), Irene had turned up with a pair of iced coffees. Which, when you thought about it, was a sort of nice symbol of the passage of time, here, and how things changed -- she'd started this little ritual in a coat and with hot drinks, and today she had clinky ice and open-toed heels.

Of course, Irene also, as a general rule, listened to the radio like she was gleaning the report for clues on any normal day. Who could say whether she'd even heard it yet today, though?

"Good class?" No clues there, or in Irene's curious, greeting smile.

You know, Irene swinging by after class had become a somewhat regularly occurring occasion, so you'd think it wouldn't have caught her by surprise, especially not on the last day of the class, but it did, and she seemed momentarily startled by it thank to the currently muddle that was her brain at that moment.

(Which had been, truth be told, considering maybe a text was a good middle ground?)

"Irene!" she said, then winced, because that was no way to greet someone who brought you coffee on a regular basis! "Err, um, I mean, yeah, sure! Good class. Great class, actually. Final projects. Rube Goldberg. No one died. Always a good time. Er, um...how are you? I like those shoes, are they new?"

Flawless, Amaya. Very smooth. Well done.

Edited 2024-04-23 12:54 (UTC)

Irene -- a champion texter of important things, and also, a known hypocrite -- would probably ultimately be quite glad she swung by, in that case.

"Even Beaker didn't die?" Irene prompted, her smile widening slightly. "And you know, darling, they are not new shoes -- tell no one -- but I've not worn them since September, so it's close enough."

She tilted her head, offering out Amaya's coffee. "Good day at the shop yesterday, too? I meant to visit but we got a shipment of beads in at the shop and I was basically buried all day."

Not so buried she probably hadn't heard Graham on the radio, though.

Edited 2024-04-23 13:05 (UTC)

"I think if anything actually did manage to kill Beaker," Amaya pointed out, eager to latch onto that as much as she was the coffee, "then we've all got much bigger problems on our hands, I'm sure..."

And that was some nice perspective, right? That at least nothing that destructive was looming over their heads, right?

Amaya sipped deeply from her straw, reminding herself of things like fortune and boldness and band-aids and just getting it over with.

"Good day," she allowed. "I, erm...got an...interesting job offer?"

So not quick just ripping the band-aid off, but...

"In the mail?"

Mystery cleared up, but Irene, at least, was still smiling -- though, you know, maybe it was more of a questioning smile than it had been, a moment before.

It was much better to rip off the plaster, she thought, than to find oneself ghosted.

Not that she thought Amaya would leave without saying goodbye -- Irene was the professional ghost around here, when it came to history -- but...it also just felt like maybe she needed to drag it out into the sun, to show she wasn't worried about it?

Even if she was a little worried about it. But again, after all that talk of leaving -- surely it was now on Irene to prove that she was secure enough to have a little faith through what looked like that promise's first challenge, right?

Well, it probably wouldn't do Irene much good to know that another little kernel of wisdom from Papa Blackstone was that if you just did the leaving first, then...

That questioning smile had been met with a little bit of a uncertain one from Amaya...well, more of a grimace trying to be a smile, but it was an acknowledgement all the same before she gave a small nod.

"From Daventry," she said. "Big job, too, apparently the blacksmith they got after I left pulled a disappearing act and they're in some pretty tight spots. Could be a couple of weeks. At least through the Tournament of Knights, which should be at the beginning of May."

But who could tell, with the Daventry Royal Guard? They were just as likely to change dates unexpectedly as they were to add fifteen addendums to one rule or edict.

Look, Papa Blackstone -- Irene saw your strategy, and she raised you 'bribing a coroner to positively ID your corpse.' She could leave first so hard.

It was actually kind of a lot harder to be the one being left, she was finding.

But -- all the same, something sort of unlocked in Irene at how temporary this seemed, and a relief she'd been pretending she didn't need flooded her. Impulsively, she reached out to snag Amaya's hand -- that grimace was doing a thing to her, and suddenly Irene didn't need reassurance for herself, quite so badly.

"Sounds like an amazing opportunity," she offered. "And look at that, they headhunted you across universes. Proud of you, babes."

And she was, even if she was also a touch uncertain about what this meant in the near future, and Irene generally did not love a lack of certainty.

"And they're paying me pretty much a boatload of shiny gold coins for the privilege, too," Amaya said, and if anyone pointed out that the she seemed to be squeezing that hand of Irene's now in hers a little tightly, well, then, that was just because she had trouble knowing her own strength, nothing more. Because the flight part of her brain seemed to want to latch onto that amazing opportunity for itself, while the fight part was desperately reminding it that it'd already screwed that up, if you were going to go run off somewhere and not come back, don't tell the person where you were going! So it was just going to step up and keep leaning into it, but nice try, Flight!

(Funny how much easier it was to stamp that impulse down now that Irene was actually right there in front of her).

"And..." Fight was a lot bolder in her head; as she ventured to put it forward out into the world, it came out a little less certain, "maybe...you could even come visit? In the meantime? Once I've got everything set up. I know we sort of threw it around a little, you coming to see my world and everything, and, well, you'll even get to see my old shop and won't even have to worry about inns with no amenities 'cause you could just stay with me. And you could even come during the Tournament! It is one of my favorite times of year back home, all the pageantry, the competitive spirit, the excitement of not knowing who's going to take it all home! It....could be fun...."

Irene prided herself on being a few steps ahead of most people, most of the time, and she'd already been bravely steeling herself -- as Amaya obviously was as well, based on the squeezy-hand action -- for potential weeks of empty-beddedness....

And yet, sometimes even she was taken off guard. As soon as the word visit passed Amaya's lips, Irene's eyes widened, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck, and -- maybe a joke about her hair-dryer and needing to rough it? But then Amaya went and even covered that, and....

"I would love to," she blurted out, in the wake of all those words, giving Amaya's hand a squeeze in return. "I would love to come visit, Amaya, yes please. And during the Tournament! I'm sure you'll be busy, but -- I could also help, if needed?"

She wasn't a lot of help in most areas, generally, but she'd taken a summer of blacksmithing classes and...like, sheer osmosis should have quite a bit covered at this point, too?

"But yes. Please. I'd love that."

Edited 2024-04-23 19:21 (UTC)

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Shop Class; Tuesday, Fourth Period [04/23].

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