velesdonnersen: (Default)
[Tarvek gets to the Bakery first. He's so excited: he's going to get to meet a real, entirely sentient, self-willed Muse! Eeeeeeeee!]

[He orders a cup of coffee and waits, hoping Ilsa arrives first, so that Dakki Sigal is comfortable when she gets here.
velesdonnersen: (Default)
[Tarvek had been at Ilsa's Place, helping build armaments, but it occured to him he had to check on the drone-children and his not!wife, at home... and, ideally, pick up some more tools and equipment from his garage.]

[Perry and Catherine, the dronelings, are fine.  Just fine.  Lying on their little tummies, watchin' the good ol' TV, gnawing on a couple of red, gory...]

[Ngggg.  Not so fine.  No-no.  Not at all, not at all: Tarvek races frantically to the garage with sweet little Perry and darling Catherine racing behind him shouting 'BRAINZZZZZZZ.' At the moment Tarvek is not sure he qualifies as having any at all!  He darts to the garage, and proceeds to bolt it shut, shoving the entire washing machine in front of the padlocked door.  He checks the rest of the garage carefully: no further zombies in sight.]

[It takes him about two hours to thoroughly glean useful stuff from the garage.  He loads it carefully into the family sedan, then climbs in himself, locks all the doors -- and goes to sleep.  He's not an idiot, and he knows he works better awake and aware...and he's been up too long.  He's as safe as he's likely to get here, double-locked into a secure space, with the second safe-hole being on wheels.]

[Only after a good nap does he click the wonderful Power Garage Door Opener he's been tinkering with ever since beginning to get his Skilz Back, and goes charging through town toward Ilsa's.]

Regain 1

Jul. 24th, 2011 02:20 pm
velesdonnersen: (Madboy-glee)
 Tarvek goes to mailbox, mind really not on much of anything but the nights spent sleeping next to Ilsa...and the conundrum of Mayfield.  He flips the lid open, reaches in...

...and removes a small cardboard box.  He frowns, and cautiously, warily opens it.

Nestled in a handful of packing tissue, he finds a clean, new, neat little bit of a machine.  He frowns harder, trying to decide if he knows what it is.  He's sure he knows something about it.  It's nothing from Europa: he knows that much.  At least, not as designed, and, yet... it's... there's something...
 
He reviews old machines and new, finally settling on the machines he's encountered in Mayfield.  With his spark gone, he's had far too limited exposure, but he's fought hard to at least understand His Wonderful Car. And it's here that it occurs to him what he's holding: a spark plug.
 
A Spark Plug -- and he's spent the last ten minutes thinking about machines, and not suffered one headache!  He gives a whoop, and jigs about in the yard.
 
An hour later he's less delighted, but still smiling.  He hasn't got the ability to do the extraordinary back, yet. But he can now open the hood of the car, know what's in it, and work with the engine without a single flicker of pain, or moment of confusion.

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velesdonnersen

March 2012

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