It Meant More Work.

It meant more work.

She couldn't just twist her hair up behind her head and pin it back with a stray pencil. She would have to be cautious to keep it out of grime and gunk. Run a brush through it at intervals of more than once a day. Get used to the feel of something brushing her shoulders.

But it made her look less like a tangled mess. Less engineer, more businesswoman. And she needed to cultivate that persona, or at least the appearance of it. Especially if she was to make the kind of money needed to pay the Gamesman's bounty.

She tried on her most stylish outfits: the one her sister had given her, the two made by Lady Marat. All looked good with her hair worn long. Sighing, Milli nodded to herself in the mirror. It would stay down. Hopefully she didn't look too silly.

ϟ Monsters-themed Asks!

Vampire: Someone offers you a chance at immortality. Do you take it, and why or why not?

Werewolf: If you had to spend your life with just one person, who would it be?

Witch: If you could change one thing about the world, what would it be?

Ghost: Do you have any regrets?

Frankenstein: Is someone telling you how to live your life, or are you an independent person?

Mummy: If you were to fall into an eternal sleep, do you think anyone would miss you?

Zombie: Do you miss anyone right now?

Faerie: If you could get away with anything, what would you do?

Nymph: What are you like when you’re by yourself?

Mermaid: How far would you go to keep the one you love?

Shapeshifter: What would you change about yourself?

Banshee: If you knew one of your loved ones/best friends had only one day left to live, how would you spend that last day with them?

Siren: If you could make anyone do anything, what would you make them do?

Genie: If you had one wish that would come true and couldn’t be reversed, what would you ask for?

Fury: What is a word/phrase that you dread to hear?

Incubus: What would someone have to do to get in your pants?

Succubus: What’s one thing you can’t live without?

It always seemed like she missed a spot. A dark blotch on her neck, the end of her nose. Underneath her eyepiece. The grease snuck in everywhere, as much a part of her as the work she did to earn it.

Is there such a thing as fate? Milli often wondered. She could see the wheels of the universe turn sometimes, how the flight of a seagull caught the eye of a dock worker, making him lose his footing, dropping a box off the dock, sinking the load of volatile chemicals in the water, causing a small explosion, busting a hole in the side of a tugboat that also sank, causing the captain to lose his hand and nearly his life.

Did the seagull cause the captain to lose his hand? Sort of.

But she knew life was more complicated than that, especially where people were concerned. People have differing motivations, hidden agendas, things they can't even admit to themselves. Machines are more straightforward. They move because she put them in motion. They rest when they are through. She understood machines. And through that framework, flawed and broken as it was, she tried to understand the rest of the world as well.

I asked because I knew it would make Jackrel blush. Milli, however, would never ask him such a thing. He's too nice a guy!

Incubus!

What?! Why? Why would you even ask that?Right now, there is only one thing anybody could do, and that’s be Eimear!  That is it. 

Also, know me for a bit longer I suppose.

Also there is some more but that is private thank you very much.

The Fire Inside

A fear was made manifest, her note in the barbershop leading the Charlatan to her door in a way Milli hadn’t expected. “Tom Door was captured by his father, tortured. And he and three of our own are still inside,” Birdy explained behind the locked doors of Milli’s shop. “I need you to get them out.” So she worked. She focused. She maintained control. It was important, because not maintaining control was being out of control. And right now, she couldn’t afford to be out of control. Milli let her anger override her fear and she worked her fingers to the bone, calling in Tia, Lachlan, his brother Fercos. She called in favors, paid overpriced fees. All that mattered was that they came. They worked the forge all night, making munitions, weapons, gadgets of all types. Some for things she didn’t have a design for, just the schematics in her head. Longer, wider, a curve along the tip there. From nothing, an armory rose. From the stifled, hot mess of her mind, a plan, too, rose. Azalea was contacted, dragged from her bed. Apologizing, Milli explained what she needed. The urgency. And from Milli’s tone, Leah was reminded of the kind of devotion she, herself, showed when speaking of the Cause. Early the next morning, not long after the sun peeked beyond the horizon, Milli stood out front of the office of the Queen’s tax assessor. When the tiny, balding man with spectacles balanced low on his nose unlocked the door, Milli pushed inside. “I need to look at some blueprints,” she demanded with significantly less finesse than normal. The man blinked, taken aback by her abrasiveness for a moment. Then he remembered that he was in his office. His element. And he straightened his tie, walked primly to his desk chair and sat down behind it. “My dear lady,” he said, as if she was anything but, “I’m afraid that we can’t just do that sort of thing. Otherwise ruffians and all other unsavory types would just be...I don’t know, coming in to look at bank vault blueprints! You must have a signed waiver from the owner of the property, a clearance from the building commission, and a letter of credit from the bank underwriting the insurance for the property.” He smiled at her, sweet and condescending. “Now, if you’d like to come back in a few days with those forms--” “Here,” Milli slapped them down on his desk, a neatly signed copy of each of the forms he was asking for, carefully forged only hours earlier. “The Casivan mansion, up on the wall. Get to work quick or it’ll be Lord Casivan you’ll be answering to, not me.” The threat was surprisingly effective and it made Milli ill to think of how much trouble she was likely bringing down on herself and others with this. But it was the best option out of many, many bad options. The man returned with the appropriate plans, bowing and scraping to her now as if she were royalty. “Is there anything else Lord Casivan requires?” he asked obsequiously. Milli looked the blueprints over, made certain they were correct. Then shook her head. “No. Good morning, sir.” Though the words themselves were polite, the tone was cold. When she met Birdy, it was with a cart full of surprises and a clear idea of where they were going. “We’re getting them out,” Milli said, jaw clenched. Some moments it felt like the pressure inside her, the force of holding it all in, would never end. Or it would end her. “And then we’re getting some leverage.”