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 Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 10:10 am
Wherever they were not it wasn't anyplace he wanted to stay for long. He was far more accustomed to the heat and humidity of New Orleans, the cold here always seemed creep deep into his bones. His temporary blacksmith's tent provided a haven of warmth, thankfully. Settling in he started on the days work, there was some unfinished shoeing, tent pegs and barrel repairs to be done.
It didn't take more than a few minutes at his anvil and bellows before he had stripped down to his thin linen shirt and leather apron, sleeves rolled high and neck unbuttoned. To him, the driving sound of his hammer and the roar of the fire was soothing. But, anyone seeing his face at the moment would think otherwise, his expression intense and a scowl of concentration on his lips.
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 10:22 am
Tch, it was COLD. He was used to it, weather in the slums went from sticky hot to light snow pretty quick. The idea of seasons weren't really apparent in the city he came from- more like two sides of a really shitty coin fate flipped every morning.
He'd wanted to stay in the warmth of the trailor but knew better. It was too damn early when he'd rolled himself out of the bunk to venture outside. The chill of the morning had slapped the sleep from his face, leaving him feeling a jolt of anticipation for what he'd find around the camp today.
Charlot ran a hand across his face, shrugging into his coat as he staggered down the small ladder steps to the ground. People were already up and moving around, doing tasks here and there. He wondered if some of these people even SLEPT at all last night.
He found a trough of water that didn't look too disgusting and washed his face, hissing at the sting of ice water across skin. Now that he was fully awake, he began pondering todays tasks.
It smelled of fire- and in the background he could hear the click-clack of someone working metal. A blacksmith? He turned to retrieve his bag from inside the trailor before moving toward the tent that was producing the acrid black smoke.
Where there was smoke, there was fire- and with that came a warmth he could sit beside for a bit. Charlot stepped up to the tent, eyebrows raising beneath his slightly damp hair.
"..'Oi can y'fix knives, mate?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 10:46 am
Phillipe looked up from his work after he finished one final swing on a particularly uncooperative bit of metal. Raising his arm he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of it, eying the other man with interest.
He hadn't met this one yet and the soothing effort of his work had made him more genial than normal. "Wi, m'sieu. An' most blades, I can." Carefully he settled his tools and pulled off his large leather gloves before introducing himself.
"Phillipe LaBauve. Come in, li fe fre, non?" He turned and took his jacket and hat off the only seat in the small tent, indicating the man should sit. "Have you the knife wit' you?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 11:32 am
Charlot cocked an eyebrow, listening very carefully to the man speak. That was some accent. He ducked his head and entered the tent, taking the offered chair with a smile.
"Thanks," He didn't sit just yet, but offered his hand out to Phillipe. "Charlot M'Queen. Nice t'meet another fellow around 'ere. Place is swarmin' w'beautiful ladies, thought this was'a amazon circus and I'd gone t'eaven."
He flopped down into the chair, retrieving a few wood hilts and a couple shards of snapped metal. He offered those out to Phillipe.
"They broke some time ago."
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 12:34 pm
Phillipe nodded, wiping his sweaty hand on a cloth before giving Charlot's a strong shake. "Plesha, mon ami."
The comment about 'amazons' forced a crooked smile out him, "Ah, t'e one I met...she had a sweet face an'a sour mouth, m'inded me of t'ose fancy burlesque t'eatres in ta city." He shook his head, still a little overwhelmed by how casual she was, "She was too easy on t'e eyes for a man like me, "
Taking what remained of the knives he eyed the man warily, "You fond o' t'ese? Akòz...t'is is too far gone to fix." He angled the shards, trying to discern the nature of the metal. His eyes flicked over to the other man again, What could have broken these so completely? " M’sieu M'Queen is trè vigorous wit' his blades..."
"Mmm, petèt, I can make new ones from t'is."
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 12:52 pm
Charlot's eyes narrowed as he concentrated on taking in and understanding the words coming out of the darker mans mouth. It was a task... oh yes. He caught the bit about Scarlett- that was obviously who he was speaking of. No one else around the circus was that pretty or eager to claw you in the eyes- at least, she seemed that much.
At the knife comments he tilted his head. "Y'sayin' me knives are shite?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 1:44 pm
The last brought a rare laugh. "Yah, t'e blades are gone, mon ameh. Ain't notin' can fix t'ese poor t'ings....men'....I can make t'em again."
Phillipe began pulling tools from a box and inspecting how the handles were connected to the blades themselves. "Anouvo....I can make new blades from t'is metal....but repare? I can'ot repare." He would have gone on to explain why but he was starting to get the feeling he was being misunderstood.
Pausing, his face turned to concern, "To konprann? Mah apologeez, Charlot, do you unt'erstand?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 17, 2006 2:17 pm
"F'kyeah, barely mate-" Charlot replied, running a hand through his hair. "Take a'bit t'get- but oi think we got et." He grinned and stood, wandering over to Phillipe to look at the knives.
"If'n y'can't get the pieces of shite back t'gether, jus' make me new ones, yeah?" He was so easy when it came to those knives. He'd snapped them a few weeks prior to joining the cirque. He knew for a fact pieces of the blades were missing and in bone somewhere.
He turned to look around the shop, green eyes scanning curiously the items Phillipe was repairing and/or making.
"So... y'jus the blacksmith 'ere then?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 11:20 am
Phillipe had many years to get used to the melting pot of accents that migrated through his hometown. But he made an attempt to speak more slowly for the brit. "Wi, for now...I'll be doing hard labor. Men, perhaps later....later t'ey'll find anot'er use pour mwa."
All the while he fussed with the wood handles, prying at it with slender tools. Meanwhile his other work, the barrel rings that were taking so much focus, were left to the side unattended. He would normally never stop a job half-way to start another but in this case it felt liberating. No one was forcing him to do their will, he had only himself to answer too.
It made him feel eerily chipper. "Et to...Charlot? Wha' is your job 'ere?" Half his attention was on prying the wood free of the blade.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 1:51 pm
"Likewise, 'ard labor 'ere and there." He flicked his hand in gesture, watching as Phillipe tinkered with the handle to get the metal free. "Oi 'aven't found anything t'do just yet, but maybe by evening I'll 'ave made meself useful."
It was starting to get a little hot in the forge area. He slipped out of his jacket, setting it and his hat aside as well.
"Y'need any 'elp while I'm 'ere? Got nothin' better t'do at the moment."
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Posted: Tue Nov 21, 2006 2:29 pm
Phillipe glanced up from the bare blades, and gave him a measuring look. "Wi, you coul work t'e bellows for ja knives." Putting down the pieces of blade he demonstrated. "Wi? Like this....smoot'h rig't? Don't pump too fast."
Moving back he pulled his leather gloves on and waited for Charlot to start. He wasn't sure if working bellows is what the other man had in mind but he had offered hadn't he?
"So, you play wit' knives, mon aymee? Do you cook? Or you a asasen" He smiled wryly.
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 6:52 am
"Oi don't pa'tically consider meself either, really. Guess y'could call me a 'survivor'." Charlot smirked, taking up the bellows and doing as he'd been instructed. It smelled of heavy soot where he was and he figured he'd need another bath after this little adventure.
"Oi might try t'cook but th's no guarantees- most likely it'd taste like shite." He grinned, glancing back at Phillipe. "Whot 'bout you? Y'cook?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 27, 2006 11:26 pm
The process with the knives would take some hours of work but which Charlot here they could at least get started on them. He found himself eager for more blade work...in over 25 years of blacksmithing he found it to be the most challenging and rewarding.
Phillipe nodded and smiled as Charlot took to the bellows, they'd have to melt down the old metal and pour it into something new...leather gloves pulled high he got swiftly to work. "Ah, t'ere are dark t'ings in t'is world, and surviving is what we mus' do....or we die, non?" He felt the sudden desire to line the man's blades with silver.
"Mwa? Wi, I cook....some." He grinned without looking at Charlot, intense in his work. "Mah cooking, it's no' so terib, mah mot'er s'e was amazing. S'e toug't me but is no' t'e same. Tastes not'in like 'ers." The metal was melting well in the vessel he'd placed the blade pieces in. With a few shakes of his hand it settled into the tiny vat.
Falling into silence he focused on the task at hand until finally nodding at Charlot to stop the bellows. Carefully he poured the remaining metal into two bar shaped molds he had set out moments before.
"I can make a devilish bouillabaisse, mon aymee, someday we will cook toget'a...an' poison each ot'er." The last was said with a grin.
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Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 3:55 pm
Charlot laughed, nodding from where he'd perched himself after being dismissed from bellows duty. His arms were folded across his chest, eyes watching Phillipe at work with the metal.
"That sounds like a fancy plan, m'friend." He tilted his head, fascinated by the process of melting the metal and placing it in casts. " 'Ow long does it take for em to be done? Y'said y'been doin this for ... over tweny-five years?" Green eyes squinted, pondering that.
Phillipe didn't look old. Then again, he did look a little... 'off'.
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Posted: Tue Nov 28, 2006 4:17 pm
Phillipe's smile faded only slightly as he shot Charlot a cagey look. "Ah....did ah say twenty-five? Mmm, pardone, I exaggerate....seems a long time for mwa."
He breezed past the slip up as though it were nothing, "It'll take some 'ours, mon aymee, so....you wanna go, it's al'ight. Tomorrow ah'll 'ave them por you."
He stopped what he was doing and eyed Charlot again, narrowly. "If yo'like...Ah can line t'ese in silvah. If'in t'ese are fo protection, I recommend it..."
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