velesdonnersen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
velesdonnersen) wrote2011-11-09 05:43 pm
velesdonnersen) wrote2011-11-09 05:43 pm
A Second Cylinder Fires
Tarvek made it through the madness of the last few events. He's recognized that his former not!wife has been droned -- a grief in its own right, as "Betty" is not returned, but Megurine Luka is so very clearly gone, wandering merrily through Betty's activities without notice of the shift. He's coped with Halloween, he's grown his friendship circle a little.
But he's still living as barely more than a talented Minion. So it's a matter of stunning excitement when he goes out to his mailbox, and finds another small cardboard carton. He rips it open, fingernails tearing at the sticky tape so common in Mayfield, and....
Yes. Yes! Another spark plug, resting heavily in the palm of his hand. He races in, slips the plug into a drawer of his home-office desk, and stretches his mind, running gears and cogs through his thoughts.
Nothing. Nothing?
He feels a moment of panic. Maybe... maybe it's just a signal of him getting back something small, like his proper pince nez? But, no: he simply got the pince nez, not a spark plug. The only time he's gotten a spark plug, it heralded the return of spark.
He's hesitant, now. Something has apparently been returned to him... but he's unsure what.
Time will tell.
He frowns, and putters to the office for the day, planning on returning to Ilsa's place for dinner, now that poor Pyro has been droned. It's nice to play house with Ilsa, and be both her Alpha and her "husband" -- in imagination, if not in Mayfield law.
But he's still living as barely more than a talented Minion. So it's a matter of stunning excitement when he goes out to his mailbox, and finds another small cardboard carton. He rips it open, fingernails tearing at the sticky tape so common in Mayfield, and....
Yes. Yes! Another spark plug, resting heavily in the palm of his hand. He races in, slips the plug into a drawer of his home-office desk, and stretches his mind, running gears and cogs through his thoughts.
Nothing. Nothing?
He feels a moment of panic. Maybe... maybe it's just a signal of him getting back something small, like his proper pince nez? But, no: he simply got the pince nez, not a spark plug. The only time he's gotten a spark plug, it heralded the return of spark.
He's hesitant, now. Something has apparently been returned to him... but he's unsure what.
Time will tell.
He frowns, and putters to the office for the day, planning on returning to Ilsa's place for dinner, now that poor Pyro has been droned. It's nice to play house with Ilsa, and be both her Alpha and her "husband" -- in imagination, if not in Mayfield law.
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So... what *are* we having for dinner, Ilsa?
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[ Much more relaxed now, the Spanish rolls out without a hitch, and she packs the flan carefully. ]
It should be all right cold, if you get carried away.
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If I carry you away -- always a delight -- I will repay by reheating it on your lab bunsen burners. I am no cook, schatzi, but I do know a bit of lab cookery.
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[ Balancing the plate on one hand, she opens the door to the basement, then reaches for the basket. ]
Quick, grab your things from the couch so the drones don't come looking to say hello.
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