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[clockworksoul]

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duonet id: steelsong

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ABOUT ME

Artificer, inventor, scourge of many an HOA. I will definitely, totally, absolutely get back to you as soon as I am able!

NOTE

May not actually get back to you in a timely manner.

Message @steelsong

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[clockworksoul]

Have you broken something already?

[verselet]

[A pause.

V is typing...]

I wouldn't call it "broken." I'm sure if I could put it all back together again, it'd work perfectly fine.

[clockworksoul]

What would you call it, if not "broken"?

I'm on my way, by the way.

[verselet]

No longer whole? In dire need of a resassembling?

[Ha... Anyway.]

You recall the address?

[It's getting sent for good measure, besides.]

[clockworksoul]

I do.

[ Oh. But there it is anyway. Well, that just makes it easier.

Declan has yet to figure out public transportation, so he's just going to walk. Sorry if it takes him a while! ]

Why is it... "no longer whole"?

[verselet]

Because it's in pieces.

[He knows that's probably not what he was asking. :) But it's fine, he's not in a hurry, either, so they can just text back and forth until he gets here.]

[clockworksoul]

Because you took it apart.

[ Just a guess. ]

[verselet]

[YEAH SO,]

I told you. My curiosity knows no bounds.

I just lack the mechanical know-how to put it back together. But you can hardly blame me. I should familiarize myself with my equipment, one way or another, so why wait?

[clockworksoul]

You could have called me first!! I wanted to see how it works. :(

[verselet]

There's more than one. It'd be a sorry tattoo parlor with just a single tattoo gun.

[So that's what he's broken. Sorry, "taken apart".]

But I need them all working for the other artists here. Apparently. I can give you a demonstration based on what my fake memories inform me, if you're really that curious about it.

[clockworksoul]

Well, I'm going to have to take apart one for myself then!

[ Sorry to these tattoo artists, Declan is coming to ruin your livelihood. ]

Between the two of us, we can surely figure it out.

[verselet]

Isn't putting one back together enough?

[But sure, he's not bothered. Take it apart. He has faith Declan at least can put things back together properly... unlike himself.]

I'll order us something to eat while we work, then. What do you want?

[DON'T SAY PIZZA He hasn't had anything all day. He always forgets until his stomach decries being so neglected.]

[clockworksoul]

Taking it apart is part of learning how it goes back together!

[ Come on now, V! ]

Oh, you know I'm not familiar enough with the food in this world yet to have an opinion. Surprise me!

[verselet]

[Fine, fine.]

No complaints, then, if it's something you don't like.

[He'll just end up ordering Chinese takeout or whatever. His tastes are not that much more refined than "pizza", apparently, when he wants something cheap and fast. Maybe he should have brought something over from Dodo-]

Tell me when you're close and I'll unlock the door.

[He closed up early because again, how the fuck do you run a shop. This will be a learning process. If Dante can do it, then he can, too.]

[clockworksoul]

I should be there in another 10-15 minutes I think!

[ The Declan of this world probably thrives off of takeout, so Chinese will be just fine by him. ]

I'll see you soon!

[verselet]

[And so he will. Ten to fifteen minutes later, and Declan will find the address, nestled somewhere within the artsy part of the city. Frosted across dark glass windows, in a font that is half script and half street-art inspired, is the name of the shop: Tyger Tyger Tattoo. He’s definitely at the right place.

Further verified when V swings open the door to meet him, ushering him inside.]

Did you walk all the way here? [He seems to realize this… belatedly.] ...The food should be here soon. I’m ravenous.

[The inside is quite nice, fairly modern while still possessing the edgy, vague bohemian atmosphere one might come to expect from a tattoo place, much less one run by a man that looks like V. It's well-kept and clean, currently empty, though even from the entrance, Declan might notice a sprawl of conspicuous parts spread across one of the tables, tucked within one of the sectioned-off "booths".]

[clockworksoul]

... Yes?

[ Said in the tone of a man who does not realize there are alternatives to walking. We walk everywhere in Dungeons & Dragons, okay?

In he goes, and he takes a moment to look around the place, to sort through how familiarity and newness mingle strangely in his mind. He has been here many times before, and he can almost picture the faces of the other artists stationed at their booths. How very strange indeed. ]

In the meantime, may I take a look at one of these devices... not in pieces?

[verselet]

...Next time, you should find a ride. Unless you enjoy the long walk.

[Does he want to explain public transportation to Declan right now? Nah.

So he nods at the question and then turns, waving for him to follow. (But not before locking the front door again, to ward off any customers that might expect V to know what the hell he's doing in hope of tattoo services.) They're led over to one of the little sections with a working set-up, definitely intact and not taken apart as though abused by a madman with a knack for mechanical dissection and a hatred for tattoo guns.]

Here. Make yourself at home.

[There are comfy chairs, too!]

[clockworksoul]

[ Oh. A ride. Right. (He'll figure out how to do that sometime later. Probably.)

That's not important anyway. He's already walked all the way here and he's eager to get down to business— the business of taking things apart! ]

Don't mind if I do!

[ He flops himself into one of those comfy chairs, plopping his messenger bag onto the nearby counter, where he begins to rummage through it. He fishes out several tools, all of which look like they're made for small, delicate work. And of course, a pair of goggles with an array of different lenses— though these are distinctly less steampunk-looking than the ones he wears in the ON world. ]

Now, now, now, what have we here?

[verselet]

[What you have there, Declan, is a pretty basic tattoo chair-slash-table set up, complete with workstation, tattoo gun, power station, and foot switch. It's the latter three items that V had taken apart to hell and back in the neighboring booth, especially the tattoo gun.

For now, watches as Declan gets himself settled in, quirking a brow at the goggles with different magnifying lenses. (He presumes.)]

Let me know if you need anything while you poke around. [Because his phone's buzzing, and he fishes it out his pocket, eying his screen.] Food's here.

[GONNA GO RETRIEVE THAT FIRST BECAUSE HE'S HUNGRY--

Fast forward a few minutes later. Now V's back, and settled with a box of Chinese takeout (with Declan's portion handed to him prior, of course), leaning back in one of the chairs and watching him work to take everything apart. He's mostly interrupting, but sometimes he's struck by an idle question thanks to his curiosity, like so:]

Where did you learn to do all of this? Were you taught?

[clockworksoul]

[ Basic though it may be, it's all new to him, and therefor fascinating beyond belief. So it's probably a good thing that the food gets here when it does, so Declan can shovel some into his mouth before he gets too immersed in his work to eat. ]

Mm, all my tinkering and inventing you mean? I'm somewhat self-taught, somewhat formally trained. My mother is a brilliant inventor, one of the very best. It was her letters telling me of her exploits that inspired me to get into the trade for myself.

Those letters served as the foundation of my education, one might say.

[verselet]

[V is digging into his carton with cheap chopsticks as Declan speaks. He's already made it near the bottom.]

Letters?

[A long-distance education?]

You didn't travel with her, then?

[clockworksoul]

Oh, heavens, no. Her work always took her far afield, and often straight into danger. I was much better off in the city.

[ Or so he had been told. Declan thinks better of mentioning he's never so much as met his mother, only spoken to her through the written word. It's not relevant. Probably. ]

[verselet]

[He supposes it's reason enough, yet it still sits at odds with what he knows of this man thus far. One who had ventured into a land kept under the thrall of an obsessed vampire lord...

V pops a little pink shrimp into his mouth, chewing and swallowing thoughtfully.]

You don't strike me as the kind of man who shies away from danger.

[clockworksoul]

I don't strike you as that sort of man now, perhaps.

[ Said with a motion of his chopsticks. It's just as well that he just started eating without thought. The muscle memory of his other self took over, saving him the embarrassment of figuring out how to eat with sticks. ]

Even just a few months ago, it would have been a different story.