Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was the day after they had returned from their horrible adventure in Christmas Land, still time before the Big Day and for that, Christof was thankful. He had indeed been able to procure a new arm, and attached it himself. His stitching wasn't as neat and tidy as the Plague Doctor's had been, he had noted, with the occasional cross-stitch, and not always with the most even of spacing, but he did his best to emulate as he could. He was still feeling raw around the edges, and his muscles ached as they mended themselves, but generally everything was working as it should. It did make working his puppet very difficult, though.

There was no backing out now. Christmas could go sit on a pin as far as he was concerned, but duty was duty, and Tasks Must Be Completed or they hang in the air and start trouble. His dorm room was too small to properly work the choreography, but wheeling the contraption all the way to the graveyard, he knew he could practice in peace.

The hunchback slowed as he approached his favorite haunt, brows furrowing as he realized someone had beat him to it. A red hat and glinting blades over the edge of the graves- oh, Fear Around Us, it was him! ... or... her... it.... Malodore. His stomach clenched with shy nervousness, eyes wide as he tentatively crept closer, praying he hadn't been noticed. At least he had left Scruff behind this time...

His cart creaked as he dodged behind a headstone, listening to that melodic voice go through some sort of poetry he supposed. It sounded familiar, but he had no idea what was being said. Every inch of him screamed elegance, and he wondered who's crafty design had brought to life such a marvelous creature. He wasn't entirely aware that his hiding spot was a hair too small for him, or that the creak of his cart's wheels were loud enough to hear. His mind was still churning with curiosity.

The hunchback winced with embarrassment, but meekly straightened up, his hands (both of them back in place since his return to Halloween) twisting in front of him anxiously. He fidgeted, as though silently trying to explain that he hadn't MEANT to be dropping any eves, and had just been here to practice as well, and didn't mean to interrupt, but ultimately the motions were erratic and not terrible useful. Mouth twitching behind his scarf, he shifted to try to protect his contraption as though terrified of his hero's criticism.

Christof nodded, still flushing and tense as he looked to his contraption. Adjustments had been made since his initial audition, but the biggest 'upgrade' had been left back in his dorm. He didn't need to practice that part just yet, and target practice had gone well so far, even with the new arm. It was still clumsy, and he wasn't quite used to it's new articulation yet, but with trembling hands he reached to untie it from the cart, glancing at the Plague Doctor every so often to try to gauge that motionless expression. Would he be impressed? Or would he point out all the flaws in his stitching and tell him it was overkill? Maybe he'd have suggestions for further improvement? Swallowing, he hefted up the new head, offering it out for Mal's perusal.

Blushing, Christof nodded, his expression still shy and wide-eyed as he watched his hero close in to glance at the puppet but then take more interest in his limb. Swallowing, he set the device down again to roll up his sleeve and show the plague doctor his fresh stitches proudly. They didn't swell or go red like they had in Christmas at least. He had his own pen and his script to write on in his pocket- it had become a necessity to keep writing utensils with him he had found, and leaning on his cart he scribbled out,

"Arm= lost in warehouse that exploded. Unsure where arm is now. Assuming far away. Found new one. Still stiff."

He wished Mistress Riley was here to help him translate, he was doing a terrible job of short hand. The Plague Doctor probably thought he was a simpleton, which made his patched face flush even deeper as he held the script out for it to read.

Christof flushed at the compliment, and felt guilty when the only answer to it's question was a shake of his head. The numbness in his limbs in the thick Joy was what had caused most of the problems. Considering it had been in an explosion, he was somewhat glad he HADN'T been able to feel the missing arm.

Gathering up the script again, he wrote again in the margin:

Cannot feel arm. Too much Joy.

followed by, on a second line after a pause and his eyes lowered meekly, his handwriting a bit more nervous:

Thank You. #7 Self Maintenance. Repairs made when necessary.

Usually not often.

At that he gave a sour look at the paper, clearly not thrilled by memories of their Christmas Adventure.

And now they had this Jackin' play to perform commemorating it!

That made the hunchback brighten up considerably, eyes wide and practically sparkling at the invitation. He dove back to the paper, scribbling enthusiastically.

Fully Trained Igor 6yrs Grad. Time. His palms were sweating, blotching some of the ink, but mostly it was legible as he looked back up to the Plague Doctor with an excited look. He nearly forgot himself, though, diving back down to add underneath, Current Masters: B. Mudd by Contract; & Mistress Riley by friendly obligation.

As though anxious for him to not get the wrong idea, he added another addendum, Still looking for proper Master.

Christof straightened up immediately- at least as straight as a hunchback was capable, eyes wide with excitement as he quickly snapped to attention. Two REAL creatures of science needing his help? TWO at ONCE! Images of crackling electricity and gears and organs and doomsday devices and viral warfare on Christmas town danced in his head as he quickly reached forward to take Mal's bladed hand, shaking it so enthusiastically he cut himself along his palm and didn't seem to care. These were Masters who wouldn't waste time with Video Games and Procrastination and Naps!

His first impulse was to tell it about his OWN project in the works but... but Amrita had given him permission to tell Mistress Riley, not Master Malodore. He'd have to run it by her as soon as possible.