01. Oh not this again.

[bullhorned]

Who: Gendry
Broadcast: Nope
Action: SS Golden, Planetside
When: Today and June/July

The Golden

He hadn't been on the Marsiva all that long, but he had been on the vast ship long enough to come to the conclusion he didn't care for it at all. The food was strange and it all reminded him a little too much of the Station, which he'd never really liked all that much in the first place. More than that, he'd noticed how different things were around here. It reminded him of blood granite, though he didn't really mind that part all that much. All that business with Shards had always been an enormous headache equal only to the amount of times he banged his forehead in the tunnels of Troichean Beinn. Still, he hadn't been prepared for being in space. He hadn't figured out how to deal with that, so he'd made the decision not to.

When he arrived on the Golden to fanfare and annoying bits of confetti, the first thing he did was scowl. The second thing he did was find a direction to glare at and then scowl a little bit more. It was not that Gendry was extremely upset, it was just that brooding was something of an art form for him and he was at his best when boiling in sullen silence. All thanks to a bit of a chip in his head, he now knew exactly what he ought to be doing. So after mumbling his greetings to anyone who just so happened to be about to welcome him, he found himself in the engineering room. There were a few tense moments where he tried to grasp exactly what it is he was looking at, why he seemed to know so much about it, and if that was the sort of thing it was worth getting worried about. In the end, he decided that as long as he had valid reasons for hitting, then he might as well get on with it. There was a valve that he could instinctively see needed a great deal of banging, so he did.

Don't Hug Me I'm Scared

By the time the first native had got around to giving him a reassuring hug, Gendry had concluded that he now knew of three worlds he held a deep contempt for, which coincidentally happened to be all of the ones he'd experienced so far. But it was better than the ship, so he simply took extra care to watch that no one got close enough for any unexpected proximity. After spending a few hours wandering about the market area of one of the primary settlements, Gendry had found exactly where he ought to be. He'd found a smithy and after talking up his own experience (he'd apprenticed with dwarves after all!), he'd found himself gainfully employed and under the incredibly misguided idea that he had simply found a new planet to live on, this was how the rest of his life was going to be, and that he'd better just decide to be happy with it because that's simply how it was.

Rather than engineering as he was supposed to be, Gendry spent quite a lot of time making whatever was required of him, though it generally tended to be of the more mundane tool-like variety. When he wasn't working, he was finding places to buy his meals, trekking back to his private treehouse in an attempt to avoid risky hugs, and not actually paying all that much attention to the forests because he'd only just been in a world chock full of magical forests and this one didn't really seem all that exceptional to him.

(ooc: Gendry will just be here and there, trying to start his life entirely over because this is just the sort of thing that tends to happen to him. Find him at a smith, or out shopping, or trying to shoo little native children from trying to hug his leg because why)

Comments

[bullhorned]

It was called the Golden. [Which was to say that yes, he had been through all that and was rather content to be done with it.] You come down from there too?

[passingthrough]

[She thinks for a moment. Who does she know on that ship? Right. Mystique—the one who lives in her own skin.] Yeah, I'm on the Windrose. I was pulled in five months ago. You?

[bullhorned]

I'm not on the Windrose.

[It may be he was really just that obtuse. But really, he'd only arrived two days ago, which was more or less how long it took him to realize he could simply go planetside and disregard all that business of being in space.]

[passingthrough]

...

[Sighing.] I'm not currently aboard the Windrose. The Golden and the Windrose are both part of a fleet of twenty ships. [If you count the Iskaulit and the Marsiva.] How long ago was it that you arrived in the fleet?

[bullhorned]

[By this point in the conversation, Gendry had decided that they could keep talking, but he wasn't going to very well stand about doing nothing. He fetched the now cooled shovel blade from the water and began to examine it with a critical eye.]

Few days, I think. Might be more. It ain't easy tellin' up there.

[passingthrough]

Sure. [She watches him for a moment before realizing blacksmith doesn't exactly seem like something that would come with an augment. Not that she has an engineering augment to be sure.] This is something you knew how to do back home? [Might make spaceships feel even more surprising to him if that's the case.]

[bullhorned]

[He nodded curtly. His finger ran along the edge of the shovel and determined it was going to need a bit more of an edge if would dig well.]

All my life. I was trained for armor, not shovels.

[passingthrough]

Did you have a lot of knights running around? [Oh, the conclusions that become normal and not jokey in these places.]

[bullhorned]

Aye. [He was in fact a knight himself, but it was the sort of detail for which Gendry had concluded was the sort of thing he didn't care for. Knighthood was a sham.] My first master was the best in the city. Knights were always coming for wares. There weren't no end of them.

[passingthrough]

Where are you from originally? Oh, and, I'm Kitty. [Since she is just tossing one question after another at him.]

[bullhorned]

Fleabottom. [He didn't expect she'd know what that was, but he'd learned a long time ago that people who talked like her generally had no idea what Westeros was and that it didn't particularly accomplish much to speak that broadly. Fleabottom conveniently had the sort of named that really just summed up everything about him.]

[passingthrough]

[Well, she is besties with Tyrion these days, but if he ever mentioned Fleabottom she missed it.]

Sounds... [She is searching for something polite since it is the guy's home. She's got nothing.] That's really the name?

[bullhorned]

[He nods. In the meantime, he begins pressing his foot against a pedal. Soon a large circular stone begins to spin in front of him. The edge of the shovel blade is pressed against it and there are soon sparks flying from it.]

Might be some other name, but it ain't one I've ever heard. Don't suppose any highborn had reason to call it anything else.

[passingthrough]

It was looked down on?

[She watches with interest and maybe a little concern.] Shouldn't you have safety glasses or something for that? [Not that she's ever made a shovel, but she has done some welding.]

[bullhorned]

Shat on, really.

[He had paused long enough to give her a dubious expression over her concern, but it began and ended there. Gendry was from an ilk of craftsmen that either were very good or they simply lost a few fingers. All of his fingers were still very much in tact.]

[passingthrough]

[Fine. They're his fingers and eyes.] At the risk of running past my twenty questions, what's your name, Smith? [If it had been anything but "Fleabottom" she might have just taken to calling him by that.]</small.

[bullhorned]

Gendry. [He almost, almost adds the Baratheon, but he sees no real point in that. It had been a mistake to even entertain that whole business of being made legitimate.] Did you need something made?

[passingthrough]

Nice to meet you, Gendry. [Dodged a bullet there. She would have recognized that name between Tyrion's "lecture" to the fleet about his world and Margaery's impending marriage to the soon-to-be-dead king.]

Maybe. Not yet. But there's always something to need next. I already got my claws.

[bullhorned]

What? Like a cat?

[Claws were not a type of weapon typical of Westeros. That was more of an Essosi weapon and even though he might have seen them before, it was far from being among the first things to come to his mind.]

[passingthrough]

I do have the name for it. [She lifts her arm, pointed away from either of them and lets them fly from the gauntlet with the tell-tale SNIKT!] But slightly longer than a cat's.

[bullhorned]

[His eyes widen in surprise, much as anyone ought to when any weapon is suddenly and surprisingly brandished. This turned to curiosity.] How's that work? What's the mechanism?

[He had a very sudden interest in wanting to take it apart. The shovel was lifted from the grinding stone and momentarily forgotten.]

[passingthrough]

[You can come closer, but she's not letting you take it apart.] Spring loaded. The trigger's on my palm.

[bullhorned]

[He knew springs, though not from Westeros or from his augment. That came from a very special skillset that had him making marvels before.] Can I see it?

[passingthrough]

Pretty sure you can see it from there unless in a plot twist you've been blind this whole time.

[bullhorned]

Don't be stupid. I want to see how it works. [He's being extraordinarily patient about it, if only because this was his trade and Master Mott didn't always hand over his latest works of art for just anyone to hold and inspect.]