Meet Liens

The next dwelling you visited wasn't a tent at all. At first, you'd assumed the wooden structure was a piece of the camp's outer fortification, based on its box-like, wooden structure. As you got closer, you realized that it was, in fact, some sort of mobile building, with wheels like a carriage. There were no horses in sight, but it had the same long pipe sticking out of it with blue and purple smoke spitting out that the iron golems positioned all around town did. You assumed that this heavy structure must, like them, be capable of movement... slow movement, but movement nonetheless. This could only be the work of the famed inventor.

You approached past the saintesses banners, depicting white sparks over a solid blue backdrop, and boarded the side dread of the stationary vehicle. This saintess also had the benefit of the only door in the base that shut and locked, you noticed. You rapped your knuckles a few times to announce your arrival. A woman's voice came from inside, almost inaudible over the sound of metalworking, which you only recognized now that you were so close to the building.

"If you're knocking, that means you're not the demon, the djinn, nor the thief. The knock was too hard to be the nun. Is it... the paladin?"

You responded, letting her know you were no paladin. You were a new squire, assigned from Missionaire, here to accompany the saintesses.

The woman's voice was quieter, almost lost under the din of the workshop, but you could still make it out.

"Fuck fuck fuck. They actually sent a squire for us six. I thought they wouldn't be able to find someone to fit all of us, or it would get lost in paperwork. Wishful thinking. Geod doesn't answer my prayers. Never has. Uuuuugh fuck-"

You cleared your throat to remind her you were still there and could still hear her.

"Yes, yes. Come in."

You'd been warned that the inventor wasn't altogether sold on the squire problem and it seemed that the situation was worse than you thought. You entered inside with the saintess' permission, wiping your boots clean outside before opening the door. As it turned out, that was a pointless gesture-- the inside had clean work-spaces, sure, but anything that wasn't part of that workspace was covered in metal shavings and burnt bits. You saw now why they called her Whitespark. Even when she used no tools, her whole workshop was covered in sparking bits of machinery.

You asked her if you ought to get some goggles or gloves before coming inside.

"You could. Yes. You should. But no. Just stay away from the machines and toward the center of the room. Yes. Good. Stay away from the machines at all times, whether they're running or not. Don't touch anything."

Once you were inside, you finally spotted the saintess. She wasn't exactly a blushing bride. The woman looked just a bit older than you, maybe five years or so, although, as she was an elf, she was probably actually a lot older than you. You could barely tell she was an elf, as her ears were covered by some sort of contraption of metal and leather wrapping her whole head, attached to her thick-framed working goggles. You were surprised she'd heard you at all with that thing on. Her body was covered heavily in a thick apron and heavy gloves over a black, turtlenecked bodysuit. The only hint you had that she was a woman were her curves, with a generous bosom and broad hips. The belly was not exactly a womanly curve, but it was a pretty significant curve all the same.

You started to give her your name, but she motioned you outside before you could speak it. Once you two had left her building, she sighed and stripped the hood off of her head, but left the goggles. "Your voice. Too quiet. You're being considerate. But it's way too quiet. I can't hear."

You asked if she could normally hear while wearing that thing on her head.

"... Yes. Actually helps my hearing. Distinguish specific sounds. Blocks out metalworking sounds. Useful." She tossed you the hood to examine, as though you would have any chance to understand it just by examining its exterior. Her removing her hood revealed short, unkempt blue hair, adding a dash of color to her otherwise leather-and-metal fashion. "Liens. Whitespark. You can call me... whichever. Don't talk to me if you don't have to. I'm busy."

Awkwardly, you laughed and told her that it was actually pretty important you do talk to her. You gave your name and reminded her that you were a squire, which meant the two of you had duties to fulfill together.

"... Duties! Me: the greatest roboticist of our times. A mother. Stupid. Beyond stupid. Fuck. This sucks," she growled, biting the thumb of her glove while turning her head downward. "Why couldn't the prophecy be different? I could have been the hero. Not some bastard kid. Tch. No way. Doesn't make sense. You're just a kid too, huh? And yet you're supposed to fuck me? Dumb. Do you even know what a coupling engine is? No. You care about coupling, not so much the engine. Shit."

She just kept muttering to herself... It was hard to get a word in to reassure her.{if Slight = True}

"Well. At least you're normal looking. I was worried they'd send their fucking prized stud to breed us all. Some shithead with big muscles and a huge dick. I mean. Maybe yours is fine. I don't care. As long as it isn't like. Stupidly big. Which I'm assuming it's not, because you're small."

That didn't sound like a compliment, and yet, it did sound encouraging. She approved of your body shape, at least. Despite your genders and the difference between the average man and woman, she was a lot bigger than you were...{endif}{if Duty-Bound = True}

You tried to explain to Liens that you got where she was coming from. Geod's plans were often extremely confusing, as was the entire squireship program. You hadn't entered into it because you were excited about 'breeding' the saintesses-- you'd done it for the strength of your faith.

"Huh. Faith? Not my reason. But it's better than the other reason. The reason I figured, I mean. As long as you know I'm not some bimbo. I mean. I don't know. Maybe I'll warm up to you or something."

You noticed she didn't mention the very real need for you to warm up to her. The good news was that it seemed she'd liked your answer. That said...{endif}

She was certainly more than a little prickly. Navigating conversations with her might not be so easy... Was there anything you could say to calm her down?