thisavrou_log | Won't Waste Your Time with My Revelation

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Won't Waste Your Time with My Revelation

Who: Diana Prince and Erik Lehnsherr
When: About a week after arrival
Where: The workshop
What: Diana lets Erik examine her armor
Warnings: N/A

A great deal has happened since Erik arrived at the dilapidated Ingress complex. The amount of work to be done just to keep everyone on board alive is staggering, but luckily it appears that most people have been involved in whatever this situation is long enough to understand that without complaint.

The technology on the complex, even in such a state of disrepair, is so far beyond Erik's understanding that he feels inadequate in a way that he has not for quite some time. It is discouraging. He knows that given enough time he will master it. But there are already a considerable number among them who do not need to study the way he does, simply because the technology they are familiar with is closer to par with the Savrii.

So Erik splits his time between studying the Savrii technology and the necessary manual labor of cleaning up debris, repairing what he can, and setting up the workshop to suit the needs of himself and his colleagues who will be using the space.

He hasn't forgotten his encounter with Diana, as much as he tries to not think about it. They had discussed perhaps meeting again, this time on purpose, but he has been so busy he has not taken the time to seek her out. Busy and unsure that she would welcome such attention.

A pile of scrap metal he has collected hulks in one quadrant of the room. He takes a moment to appreciate the composition. The negative space in three-quarters of the room, gleaming clean after a week of toil, marred by a heap of garbage.

He always did enjoy decadent, degenerate art. But, alas, art is a luxury he has not yet earned. And so he focuses his power on the heap. It begins to shift and move, spreading apart and then coalescing together to form a generously-sized work station.

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Their last conversation had left Diana no less curious than when they'd begun speaking. His mannerisms, so polite and open one moment, were cold and cautious the next. She still cannot grasp what had made him change demeanor so quickly, but she is determined to find out--or, at the very least, learn more about him.

His request to examine her armor is an excuse she doesn't need, but uses anyway. The armor, hardly scratched from her time in the war, is cradled in her arms as if it were a child. It is one of the few remaining things she has to remind her of Themyscira, and she would protect it with her life (ironic, as that is its purpose). She wears her traditional Amazonian clothing, overlaying pieces of leather making for flexible yet durable training garb. Her hair, left down before, is braided into a fishtail and hangs down her back. The Lasso of Hestia hangs at her waist; without a sword and deciding not to bring her shield, Diana has taken to bringing the Lasso with her about the ship.

She knows that he has set up a workshop for himself, and is curious to see what he's working on. As she approaches, she hears metal scraping and groaning, and has absolutely no idea what to expect when she pushes open the door.

But it's just Erik, standing in front of a work area in an otherwise tidy room. She watches him, waiting to see if he does more--and when he doesn't, she makes her presence known. "Good morning."

Erik turns to see Diana. He stands up a little straighter, smiling, and wishes he had some warning of her arrival so he could change and maybe shower and maybe change the lights to something less stark. Not that it makes a difference for her. She seems to forever exist in some kind of soft diffuse light. "Diana!" he says, finally. "It's good to see you."

She's dressed more casually, though no less elegant, and he can't help but notice the strength evident in her shoulders, even relaxed as she is, or the graceful lines of her neck. He has managed to scrounge up some work clothes that he was able to fit to his size. Dungarees and a stained t-shirt. He wipes the grease and grime from his hands and offers one to her. "Come in, please, make yourself comfortable." He glances around the largely empty workshop. "As much as that's possible. Oh, and you brought your armor!" He finally notices the bundle in her arms that she cradles like a child. "That could go on the table, if you wish."

He seems happier to see her than she'd expected, and her face lights up with a bright smile. She grasps his hand the way Etta had taught her, still finding this form of greeting a little awkward. But now that she is among mankind, she knows she has to adapt to their ways. "Likewise, Erik." His attire does not seem to bother her, nor does the spartan state of the workshop. They are all still settling in, so it makes sense that the place would not look worked-in yet.

She moves towards the table, the soft leather of her gladiator boots not making a sound on the smooth metal floor. Antiope had favored the leather for her warriors because it was long-lasting, and also useful for ambush drills. Hippolyta had always made sure Diana had the best equipment, as much as she hated the fact that her daughter was training to be a warrior.

"I hope I didn't disturb you." He hadn't seemed like he was doing much when she'd arrived, but his clothing clearly states otherwise. She scans the table, but finds no evidence pointing towards any kind of tinkering. Diana lays the armor out on the table, fingers brushing almost lovingly over the burnished red metal. Though she had not had the armor for long, she had already been through so much with it. She didn't ask why Erik wanted to see it, but she trusts that he isn't about to tear it a part. And if he is, well. She likes Erik, that much is true, but she would not hesitate to stop him.

Erik is so surprised by how quietly Diana moves across the floor that he looks down to make sure her feet are actually touching the ground. They are, it's just that her boots are constructed differently than he had assumed. Also, much less surprising, her legs are very nice but he looks up before that gaze becomes anything more than incidental.

He has quite a lot of work to do but the pressure of that doesn't seem terribly important at the moment. "Not at all, I'm glad to see you. I trust you have been settling in well?"

As soon as the armor is on the work table it demands his entire attention. He almost expects it to pool on the table like fabric, because the thought of something being so finely molded to a woman's shape is still hard for him to accept as real. "Thank you for bringing this," he says."

It is real. He hesitates before touching it. The first surprising thing is that the color is not lacquer. It's the same alloy as everything else, just somehow treated to be a different color without sacrificing strength or flexibility. Gently, as if he were handling a sleeping infant, he turns it over to examine the other side. "Remarkable," he murmurs softly. "These layers. I wonder if that's the secret." He glances at her for just a moment before returning his attention to the armor, flashing an excited grin. "I imagine there are many secrets to this masterpiece. I had a teacher once tell me that you learn more from a B- than you do an A+. With a B minus you can see through the cracks, figure out how everything was supposed to fit together, and where they had almost achieved greatness but fell short." He strokes the inside edge of the side of the armor with the back of his forefinger. "With something that's perfect, where all the pieces fit flawlessly, it's hard to see the seams."

He shakes his head. "I had assumed this was adamantium but it's clearly not. As far as I can tell it's just... steel but it's not just steel. I--" He stops himself and laughs again, feeling self-conscious. "I'm rambling, forgive me."

The breastplate resonates with warmth and love. He can't understand it, even as he feels it reverberate through his fingertips, spread over and under his skin. Who is this woman?

The small talk is welcome, and a smile flits across her face. "As well as anyone can, in such circumstances." They're all alive, at least. So many things could have easily gone wrong, and while Diana knows she can survive almost anything, she cannot assume as much for the rest of the passengers on this space station.

"You asked to see it, and I saw no reason to refuse you." The response is simple, direct. She has no problem saying no, but Erik's interest had seemed so genuine that she hadn't believed it necessary to deny his curiosity. She still isn't sure if he intends to do anything but look, but she's ready for almost anything. But the way he speaks--it warms her heart, and a tender smile spreads across her lips.

"Do not apologize. It is steel, but also more. It was forged by the Gods, gifted to my people long before I was born." The words come so easily, holding nothing but conviction. She knows now how unbelievable it may sound to someone who lived during a time without the Gods, but it is still the truth.

A question bubbles up, and she cannot stop herself from asking: "What is adamantium?"

"By the Gods," he repeats, unable to hide his astonishment. It's almost enough for him to believe. A chill threatens at the back of his neck, memories of how Apocalypse appeared to him at the mill. The way he so easily manipulated him, so subtle Erik didn't even recognize it when it happened. So natural he still isn't completely sure it happened at all.

How Erik himself had almost ripped the world apart.

If he didn't know, he would have thought they were gods. It's logical. But when he looks up again at Diana, he's no longer so sure. "The way it is folded would put Masamune to shame. And even he could not curve the folds like this. Whatever... god made this, it is exceptional work." He curls his fingers around the side of the breastplate, contact with the metal somehow helping to push away the most recent terrible memories.

"Adamantium?" He smiles, relaxes a little more. "It's a metal. An extremely strong, versatile, and quite rare metal, in fact. But temperamental. Demanding. If you wish to work with it, you must bring it your best self, your total focus. It can sense when you're bored or distracted, and punishes you for it. But with patience and careful attention to its needs, it will greatly reward you. I have managed to craft a few items from it. Nothing even remotely so grand as this, of course, but I'm proud of them all the same. Which feels foolish to even say as much now. As if one were to go to the Galerie Belvedere and brag about a paint-by-numbers landscape in front of The Kiss." He says it without rancor, still in genuine astonishment over the piece. He takes a breath and lets it out. "Thank you, again. This is ... It's good to be humbled, to not get complacent." It had been a very long time since he had come across something done with metal that he could not do.

He shakes himself out of his reverie. "Forgive me, I have completely forgotten my manners. Would you like something to drink? I have..." He has a canteen in an old locker. "Water."

Though it's something she's known her entire life, Diana doesn't have the heart to tell him that the Gods are dead. Their war had prompted the circumstances of her birth, had forced her hand into leaving Themyscira. Though her people would not finish the conflict as they were meant to, she had taken their sacred duty more to heart than some of her sisters, and certainly more than her mother. She sees now, all this time later, that Hippolyta had been terrified of the world outside their island. The Amazons had been stuck in the past, waiting for an attack that would surely never come. On the day she'd dragged Steve out of the ocean and on to their shores, she'd realized that if they never left, the world would surely end.

She only hopes that when the time comes, she can convince her mother of that truth.

The way he speaks of this adamantium--and all metals, she's noticed--enchants her. She'd listened to and learned from the smiths on Themyscira, but none of them described ore in such a way. He speaks of it as if it's a living, breathing entity, one that needs to be coaxed and harmonized with. She wants to understand what he means, feel the steel the way he does, though something tells her that it would be impossible for her. But still, she can try to imagine what he means, attempt to channel it should she ever strike a forge again. Diana reaches out, brushing her fingers gently over the head of the eagle forged to the top of the armor. She can feel that there is more than steel there, but she cannot easily put a name to what it is.

Her arm drops back to her side, and she meets his gaze. A smile lights her lips, gentle and a bit thoughtful. "Water would be welcome, thank you."

There's something in her eyes when he mentions the gods, a brief shadow. It doesn't seem to be because of anything he's said or done, though he still wishes for a way to take away whatever it was. As open and honest as she seems, he knows there is more to her than he knows. Much more, so it would seem. If he's lucky, she'll share more of it with him as they get to know one another better.

She listens as he waxes poetic about metal, which is nice because most people's eyes start to glaze over when he starts talking like that. He hesitates just a moment when she accepts his offer of water, trying to remember if he has any cups to drink out of, and finding himself thoroughly lost in her wide, brown eyes, guileless and lovely, for a moment. "Yes, of course," he says, tearing himself away from her and her armor and going to the locker where he's left the water and a few nutrition blocks.

Luckily, he has enough clean scrap to fashion two quick tumblers. He wipes them with a rag to get rid of any lingering traces of machine grease, and brings the canteen and the nutrition blocks. "I wasn't expecting company, or I would have taken more this morning. I also haven't been able to find any cooking supplies, so unfortunately these will taste the same as all the others." He pours water for the both of them and eyes the nutrition block with little anticipation.

It's better than starving, but only just.

He lifts his tumbler. "To master craftsmen, god or man."

Edited (tense shifts) 2017-10-21 08:31 (UTC)

While she waits for him to return, Diana looks around his workshop once more. There doesn't seem to be anything around for him to work on, but he certainly hadn't arrived just before her. Even as she takes the makeshift cup, she's still trying to puzzle it out.

Reflexively, Diana lifts her cup as well, clinking it gently against his. "And to those who wield their work." A toast is a toast, no matter what the drink is. She sips, suddenly realizing that she had actually been parched. A low sigh escapes her, and she leans against the work table, looking nothing but comfortable and content. Her gaze slips across the mostly empty room once more before landing on him.

"What will you work on in here?" She can't help but be curious.

Erik eats one of the cubes with little relish. It doesn't taste bad of course. That might be preferable. At least then it would taste like something. It gives him a moment to consider Diana's question, and how honest he is going to be with her if she follows this line of inquiry.

It worked out with Magda. But Magda was... special.

"This is going to be a workshop for myself and the other engineers on the station. My intention is to have as many of us working in here so that we can share knowledge and make sure whoever has the most relevant experience is working on whatever project needs to be done. I finished constructing this work station right before you came in, actually." He points to the features as he describes them. "Tool storage, multiple power outlets, modular construction, including adjustable height, to adjust it to the ideal work area." He shrugs. "I had the raw materials and the time to construct it however I'd like, I decided to take advantage."

He sips his water, feeling slightly self-conscious. "I realize this is not the most fascinating of subjects," he laughs softly. "Although if there's anything you would like repaired or built, I can try to do that for you."

Edited 2017-10-24 03:16 (UTC)

She eyes the nutrition blocks suspiciously, but takes one despite her innate reluctance. They are unlike anything she would normally eat, but she knows she can't starve here. Forcing herself to ignore her distaste for the gray block of "nutrition," she pops it in her mouth, chews once, and swallows it. Though it doesn't taste terrible (or at all, really), she still hates them.

"I beg to differ." Her brows are raised with interest, and she turns around so she can more closely examine the work area. "I am sure there is a wealth of knowledge in this place, and it makes sense to share it." She already knows the library is full of texts on science and engineering, and she's certain that some of the people Erik is talking about have discovered that by now as well. "Nothing I have is broken at the moment, but I will remember you if something does break. Thank you, Erik."

Diana eats as well, with about as much relish as Erik did. "I keep looking for something to use to make these more palatable." His regret at failing to do accomplish this is clear. "As soon as I do, I will let you know," he promises. He's not sure what sort of cuisine Amazons are accustomed to, but he is confident that he could make something that would please her.

She is kind to say that his shop talk is interesting. She's remarkably kind in every respect, as far as he's been able to determine. And for now, at least, all it inspires in Erik is a desire to preserve it. To shield her at least a little while longer from a world that will surely crush that kindness out of her with its relentless cruelty and unspeakable horrors.

Although she had managed to endure the first World War and keep it. It's possible he's underestimating her, even he can concede that much.

"Or even if you would like something constructed, not necessarily repaired," he says. He opens a drawer and pulls out a sketchpad he's found in his scavenging, on which he's scribbled some designs for chairs. "I've been trying to come up with something I can create with what I have. The Eames wire chair is something of a cliché but I wouldn't know what to do with wood or leather even if I had them, anyway. The trick is making something metal into something comfortable without the benefit of fabric or upholstery. So then I thought constructing a fine mesh might make a decent chaise." He flips through to show her the other concept he had. "If you'd like to try any of my experiments, I'd love a second opinion."

Though Diana knows that her efforts were at least partially in vain, she still has hope for the future. Not all of them are from the same reality, she knows--in her mind, there's still a chance that killing Ares would mean the end of all man's wars.

But still, something deep inside her hears the god's words and knows that it likely isn't true.

She leans in, examining the sketchbook. There were engineers on Themyscira, but not on the level of some of the people on this station. Her smile brightens, and she reaches out to flip between a few pages of the book. "I would be more than happy to give you my thoughts."

Diana leans closer to look at the notebook Erik has spread on the table, and for a moment his gaze is drawn to the lines of her body; the strength of her frame and the curve of her back. But then he remembers himself and blinks, quickly looking back to the notebook. His brow furrows at her comment. Does she not like his designs?

"I know my skills as a designer are lacking," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "Whatever critique you have, I would very much like to hear it."

She waves her hand to dismiss his self-consciousness. "No, these are wonderful. Unlike anything I have ever seen." She rests an elbow on the table so she can continue flipping the pages more comfortably. "I am no designer myself, but these designs all seem very pragmatic. Clean lines, curves, very functional." Diana would be a liar if she said she didn't enjoy some of the more elegant architecture and furniture on Themyscira, such as her mother's throne and the senate's hall, but she certainly appreciates the simplicity of what's in his book. And considering their very limited resources, that is probably for the better.

"Thank you. Really I'm just copying the designs of others and adjusting based on what materials we have available. Although..." He's momentarily distracted as she changes position. Clearing his throat, he focuses again on the notebook.

"Although it always fascinated me how these designers are able to take such rigid, uncompromising materials and make them soft and, ah, inviting. It's all about the curves I suppose. And the contrast." He rubs the back of his neck. "It's all going to be extremely austere no matter what, unfortunately. Until I'm able to collect some sort of throw pillows or something along those lines." He sighs.

"Have you decided on where you're going to focus your efforts?" He asks. "With our lack of monsters to slay at the moment, and all."

"There is nothing wrong with austere. Amazons believe, almost above all else, in pragmatism." She flips the book closed, pushing it towards him and straightening. A smile flits over her lips, and she shrugs. "Aside from studying, no. I... never planned that far in my own world, either."

"You're right, austerity has its appeal." Erik crosses his arms and leans his hip against the table. "Though I prefer something a little more inviting, generally." Yet another aspect of his youth that he would rather not revisit.

He returns Diana's smile. It's difficult not to. "Well, if you find yourself bored of philosophy, you are welcome to come here whenever you'd like. Perhaps I could teach you a few things."

The very thought of learning more about how to craft metal and perhaps about the technology of this space station thrills her. She nods, grin spreading across her face. "I will certainly take you up on that, Erik."

[ Erik did not expect Diana to actually be interested. Her enthusiasm is disarming, as well as the prospect of seeing her more often. ]

I'll save a pair of coveralls for you.

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Won't Waste Your Time with My Revelation

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he won't stop talking about metal if she keeps encouraging him lol

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i don't know anything about chairs

All I know I learned From Ikea

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