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 Posted: Sat Oct 06, 2012 3:27 pm
PROLOGUE
alchemy days
"Inari. Inari, come now. I don't have the time for games."
Alias's voice echoed throughout the market's alley, but the little fox was still nowhere to be seen. She did this often, and she did it during inappropriate times. It maddened the alchemist; he needed to buy gears before sundown before the merchant would leave (for good), but his Guardian was ignorant of his needs and demanding of her own. It was particularly infuriating that Inari chose to be difficult this particular day, because the gear merchant is a fickle merchant, and he was almost done vending for the season. If Alias was incapable of making a bulk purchase this season, he'd have to exchange his eyesight for produce. Gold was a difficult commodity to come by, and it was dangerous to vend. He didn't like resorting to copper gears, and he wasn't renowned for it either. Alias's recent economic improvement were largely in thanks to his "Golden Age" series, intricate pocket-watches made entirely of gold. They had pockets filled with gears, each serving unique functions. Some watches sang, others glowed, and some even buzzed in the sky like small, mechanical birds. The importance of their production, however, was something that Inari chose to ignore. She loved games, and he'd been denying her them lately, mostly because he was fatigued from work. Truthfully, the Golden Age was the tiring age, and Alias hadn't been sleeping well for the past season. Inari simply wanted him to have some fun.
Sighing, the toymaker squatted to the ground and revealed a small, mechanical mouse from his pocket, and turned its key before watching it scurry off into the shadows. He clapped his hands a few times, and soon, a diabolic, bestial shadow could be seen swishing its tail from behind a nearby barrel.
Alias smirked.
"There you are, you red devil. Reveal yourself, and be kind to the mouse. It took a good day or two to complete. A boy might want it."
His smirk vanished when his sneaky friend fully emerged, a broken wind-up mouse in her mouth. It was hanging limply in the same way a real mouse would have hung, and Inari's eyes were as unapologetic as ever whenever she did any sort of wrongdoing, and Alias could only frown. He lacked the energy to give her any sort of reprimanding, so he opened a palm and allowed her to drop her feat in his hand. She seemed proud of herself, her tail swishing as it wiped the dust from the ground. Her guardian's lips were still thinned, and he looked as if he wanted nothing more than to swat her over the head. His sharp features were enhanced by their new, narrowed look, and Inari made herself small when she sensed his discontent.
"Good. I am glad to know that you are capable of humility," Alias darkly muttered, and he tucked his hands into his pocket as he exited the darkness of the alley and stepped into the cat-shadowed candlelight of the Mistwick night market. Inari, ashamed, followed behind, invisible. Alias could feel her presence, but because he was still irritated, didn't turn to give her his usual, periodic smiles. The Machine nudged her Guardian's foot with her nose, but he continued to pretend she wasn't there. He was sure the vender was out of gold gears by now, and he dreaded having to resort to his magic to make ends meet.
"Alias! Alias, I didn't mean to, I really didn't--" came Inari's velvetine voice.
She continued to whine, but her human was speaking to the cog dealer. Alias exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw that the youth smith was still present, but he couldn't be sure if the golden cogs in particular were still in stock. The vendor spotted the User amidst the potential customers, and smiled a smile of recognition, and ushered him towards the stall with a wave of his hand. Alias stiffly walked over, his Guardian yipping and trailing behind.
"The gold ones. Do you have them?" he tersely questioned, kicking Inari lightly with the backside of a foot.
"M-my apologies, sir, but the craft is slow and the last of the golds were gone this morning."
Alias allowed this to settle in, and tapped his chin as he murmured a "mmm".
"I see. Another season then," came his final decision.
Alias was tempted to make a statement about how he could simply have resorted to his alchemy but chose to make an economic purchase instead, but he decided it wasn't worth it, and abandoned his would-be purchase and lost the dealer a customer. There were things about gear business that irritated Alias, the requirement of being unique being one of them, but the absence of materials was worse at hand. Inari continued to whine, and Alias continued to think of nothing but storms. The fox, however, noticed that her human had stolen away with a cog in his left hand, and her ears perked in delight when the color of the item changed from a dusty grey to a brilliant gold.
"Alchemy days again, Inari," Alias finally said, and tossed the cog farther into the alley from which the duo emerged.
He watched the shadow swallow it, and remained standing there until the clinking faded away.
"Alchemy days are here again."
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Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2012 6:40 am
CHAPTER ONE
the cabaret
in which inari offers a proposition
Alias's workshop was as quiet as it usually was on Saturday nights. Several candles flickered, but only the wicks in Inari's corner were lit, for her User preferred his own darkness. He was pretending to sleep again, tearing asunder any hopes that his Guardian had of sharing any fun with him. He had his face buried over mounds and mounds of bookwork, receipts, and manuals that he'd written months earlier. He'd gotten to the point where he couldn't read any more of his own writing since both his receding eyesight and lack of customers had been heavily taxing lately. Alchemy days were here again, but magic wasn't something that he naturally felt comfortable with. In many ways, he felt the same way about Inari, and he knew that Inari didn't share this feeling mutually. She was restless, irritating, and strangely enough, a compliment. He'd always thought that he was running his business inefficiently with his ridiculous perfectionism drive, but the fact that Inari still remained by his side reminded him that he didn't need a wife to have a companion at all. Her presence made him feel less lonely, but it was simply her being extant at all that seemed to make her relevant to him.
It was a horrible as it was indecent, and he didn't know how to explain this to Inari whenever she tugged at his sleeve caught between her teeth. He didn't have time to play, and he barely had time to meet his own quotas anymore. Fatigue made him weary, and most of the time, he wondered if it was just the bleakness of winter. Snow covered the workshop's exterior, and Alias sometimes wondered why he couldn't just magick every mineral-based item he owned into gold. If he sold his would-be-golden-inventory, then he would never have to rely on manual labor to get by, and his relationship with Inari would therefore be less of a lackadaisical afterthought.
He isn't sure anymore about what he was thinking when he used his Richter spinel as his tribute in exchange for a Machine companion. The precious stone was evidence to outsiders that he was someone with Richter blood and purpose. Inari resembled none of what he'd sacrificed for her, and yet she always wanted to help him by making his life more difficult. She most likely didn't see it that way, but sometimes Alias wished he never passed his Assessment at all. Never stopped being a Richter. Never stopped not getting married. Never stopped--
Never stopped stopping.
He looked up, and met Inari's gaze. Frowning, he gestured her over with the beckoning of a hand. She squeaked, and trotted over to him, placing her feline head on his lap, wondering what made her User suddenly change his mind about being non-communicative. Her stomach fluttered when he stroked her fur.
"Inari. Do you have any regrets?" Alias murmured grimly, resting his hand on her paws.
Inari cocked her head and thought about his question. After a long moment of consideration and a licking of her own nose, she replied a sing-songy "No."
"How fortunate for you," her User grumbled, and toppled over a mechanical grasshopper with a slight push of his finger. "Just like that, intricate things can fall. Did you know that, Inari?"
"No."
"What do you know about me, Inari? We've been User and Guardian for some time now. I assume you have a general gist of who I am as a man, and as your User--" Here, he paused to emit a hollow laugh. "--Not that I've been a wonderful User, I'm sure."
Inari's ears drooped.
"No."
She couldn't comfort a man who was generally always right. Alias, to her, was someone who was very smart, but very lost. From the short while she'd spent with him (which he, ironically, thought of as long), she already knew that he was someone who wanted to make best-laid plans, but often got entangled in them. Then, he would think about mapping out his issues, and how to ambush them one by one, but get lost in doing that too. Finally, he would question if giving up would have been the best option, and when that happened, he usually resorted to asking her strange questions like these.
Inari sighed.
"Is it the expansion costs? Or the lack of customers? You haven't been in a productive mood lately anyways, Alice."
Alias chuckled and squeezed her paws.
"It's all of it," he admitted.
"Clockwork is only sustainable if applied to the clock making industry, and the Richters were always the dominating producers of that market. I was a fool to think that I could survive on using my craft for producing menial things, since they aren't as practical as what sells," he shrugged and looked at the ceiling. He pointed a finger upwards.
"Look."
Inari looked.
"I made a map of Mistwick when I was a boy."
She nodded, and gazed in wonderment at how terrible of an artist thirteen-year-old William Richster was.
"See that red spinel in the east? That's where the Richters lived--where I used to live. See that cog in the south? That's where we are now. That's where we live."
Alias continued to stare at his own work for a long while, and said nothing.
wip
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Posted: Tue Nov 13, 2012 6:42 am
the pianist
in which Elliot performs in renown
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