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was i ever truly off my bullshit
[When Kirin Jindosh's house falls into the sea, he almost doesn't realize it's happening. No alarms have been activated, no sensors in his floors alert him to the presence of an intruder; even the mechanisms of his house are silent as the grave, on this completely ordinary day. Were there anything amiss in his house, he would know... and nothing appears to be wrong.
He hasn't eaten in two days. It's unimportant, but he's pushed his hunger to the point of distraction and now needs to put something in his body before he starts to slip in his work. It's this that gets him out of his lab and skulking directly down to the kitchens instead of waiting around for someone to bring him food in the dining area; the cooks aren't pleased to see him in their space (it isn't theirs), but they never are, and Jindosh can eat a pear in peace for five minutes thanks to their studiously avoiding his gaze.
His cooks are among the best of his staff, all things considered. But so it happens that he is not in the high, ocean-overlooking part of his home when it begins to fall. He feels a faint rumble beneath the floor and pauses, head tilted to listen. Somewhere, something creaks. And then something tears.
All at once his perfect home becomes a place of chaos: guards abandoning posts, staff and servants running in every direction, the clockworks not knowing what to do with themselves in the absence of an enemy to put down. Jindosh himself moves like a spectre, the shock of his home's demise too great to spur him into doing something like moving more quickly. Against all odds it's a maid (he knows her face, Maybe if he had a family, but that kind of thing doesn't even occur to him, his home remembers) who sees the master of the house staring dully out of a window as it splinters and does something about it, grabbing his hand and taking off at a run before he can find his voice to object.
The house crumbles. Glass shatters, wood splinters and stone all but dissolves as if it were never the marvel of engineering it was built to be. Metal screams and snaps as it bends in ways it was never intended to and Jindosh has no words for the feeling he experiences as his life's work, years of work and decades of research, slip into the sea like they were never there. How? he wonders. How, how, how? No answer comes to him; his greatest defeat is this, and though he can see no enemy that caused this, he knows: his house is flawless, and if it falls then his enemy has bested him without ever appearing before him.
A worthy opponent, despite the consequences.
Outside the carriage is somehow still working, but it throws itself off its track when a chunk of his waiting room wall lands on the station behind it. Jindosh and the maid are tossed limply into the grass, and the maid scrambles to her feet to continue running while Jindosh sits up to watch his house fall to rubble and dust. He thinks he can see his silvergraph lenses glinting in the afternoon sunlight as they fall, but perhaps he imagined it.
He's still sitting there watching when the dust has settled. When a dark-clothed figure covering her face stalks toward him, says nothing to him as he looks up into the eyes of his own destruction, the Empress, says nothing as she tosses the cracked shell of a clockwork soldier's head into his lap and walks away.
He's still sitting there when the sun begins to set, on the hill, on everything. She may as well have just killed him, he thinks as he finally rises to go pick through his own rubble. It would have been more merciful than this.]
He hasn't eaten in two days. It's unimportant, but he's pushed his hunger to the point of distraction and now needs to put something in his body before he starts to slip in his work. It's this that gets him out of his lab and skulking directly down to the kitchens instead of waiting around for someone to bring him food in the dining area; the cooks aren't pleased to see him in their space (it isn't theirs), but they never are, and Jindosh can eat a pear in peace for five minutes thanks to their studiously avoiding his gaze.
His cooks are among the best of his staff, all things considered. But so it happens that he is not in the high, ocean-overlooking part of his home when it begins to fall. He feels a faint rumble beneath the floor and pauses, head tilted to listen. Somewhere, something creaks. And then something tears.
All at once his perfect home becomes a place of chaos: guards abandoning posts, staff and servants running in every direction, the clockworks not knowing what to do with themselves in the absence of an enemy to put down. Jindosh himself moves like a spectre, the shock of his home's demise too great to spur him into doing something like moving more quickly. Against all odds it's a maid (he knows her face, Maybe if he had a family, but that kind of thing doesn't even occur to him, his home remembers) who sees the master of the house staring dully out of a window as it splinters and does something about it, grabbing his hand and taking off at a run before he can find his voice to object.
The house crumbles. Glass shatters, wood splinters and stone all but dissolves as if it were never the marvel of engineering it was built to be. Metal screams and snaps as it bends in ways it was never intended to and Jindosh has no words for the feeling he experiences as his life's work, years of work and decades of research, slip into the sea like they were never there. How? he wonders. How, how, how? No answer comes to him; his greatest defeat is this, and though he can see no enemy that caused this, he knows: his house is flawless, and if it falls then his enemy has bested him without ever appearing before him.
A worthy opponent, despite the consequences.
Outside the carriage is somehow still working, but it throws itself off its track when a chunk of his waiting room wall lands on the station behind it. Jindosh and the maid are tossed limply into the grass, and the maid scrambles to her feet to continue running while Jindosh sits up to watch his house fall to rubble and dust. He thinks he can see his silvergraph lenses glinting in the afternoon sunlight as they fall, but perhaps he imagined it.
He's still sitting there watching when the dust has settled. When a dark-clothed figure covering her face stalks toward him, says nothing to him as he looks up into the eyes of his own destruction, the Empress, says nothing as she tosses the cracked shell of a clockwork soldier's head into his lap and walks away.
He's still sitting there when the sun begins to set, on the hill, on everything. She may as well have just killed him, he thinks as he finally rises to go pick through his own rubble. It would have been more merciful than this.]
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[He chuckles, rising out of his seat once the carriage comes to a stop. He places his hands in his pockets and puts on a smile - not so forced as it was the last time they were out. Whether it's the mission, or the fact he just wants to appeal more to this man so he doesn't run off, he apparently wants to seem more likable.]
I wrote it all down on a map. We'll read it at lunch. You wanna shop, first? They got flowers.
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Paolo's effort to be charming is noted. He hasn't decided if he appreciates it or not, but something about it is at least a little less simpering and fake than the same effort from the nobles who come into his- came into his house. But, ah—he and Paolo do have a common interest in the less than savory. Great.
Shopping, though. Jindosh is looking around, critically.] You said there was a taxidermist?
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[He laughs, waiting up on Jindosh before he starts into what he calls "Paolo's Grand Tour of Rich Fuck Road." He talks everything they pass - about how the Red Camellia's a tattoo parlor going to waste on the Eyeless, and how Mindy deserves the space more than than "the hag that's Shan Yun's number one fan." He talks about how there's a day spa when no one in the mines can get a good bath, and how they have the luxury of arguing where they bury their dead. He talks, and he talks, and he talks, but he trails off once they're at the doorstep of Brozenar Taxidermy.
With a smirk, he holds open the door.] After you.
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Emphasis on listening. He has a side comment here and there, but they're all more or less wholehearted agreement that the wealthy are wastes of time and space and should probably be removed. Just excised from the city. He's already eyeing something on display as he takes the first step into the taxidermist, but still talking to Paolo over his shoulder,] There exists only one use for the coin spilling carelessly out of those ignorant leeches' pockets, and that would be providing me additional funding for my projects. Pity that I'm to be destitute until the end of the week.
[when they rob a BANK!!! More importantly, the woman who runs this shop takes one look at Jindosh and tries to affect a pleasant smile through her confusion, then takes a look at Paolo right behind him and tries further to smile over abject horror. Someone please spare her.
Jindosh wanders over to some stuffed birds, naturally.] You know, I don't consider myself a lepidopterist by trade, but I'm quite adept at pinning butterflies.
[This is... small talk. i had to google that word]
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Jindosh could probably empty his wallet today, and he wouldn't give a fig. He hums as he begins to browse, winking towards the woman as he passes by her workstation. He picks up an unfinished owl head from a table adjacent to him, turning it with him like both it and he are observing his partner.]
You uh... you make those boards, like the old man? I can't say I really expected that out of you. You like... gears... and... [He doesn't know where he was going with that.] Not nature.
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But please don't do that thing with the owl head. Christ.]
Machines? Have you ever studied anatomy, Paolo? [He asks this despite having met Paolo, shh,] The body is a machine of flesh and bone, as much as my Clockworks are bodies of steel and oil.
[He made a couple boards and hung them up next to his own drawings and his own photographs to prove that he's talented, but that's just details.] I've always found wings to be of particular interest.
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We don't get much butterflies, or I'd supply you with some materials for your... lepidopey shit. [He places it back on the shelf, looking towards the finished boards across the way. He wanders off to them with a more thoughtful expression.] You still like looking at them if they aren't yours?
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[Count for something... Anyway, he just said he's not a habitual butterfly-pinner, calm down. He lingers over the birds for another moment before he moves to join Paolo looking at the butterflies.]
Her technique isn't atrocious. Why, what are you planning now?
[is it.... a present]
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[He raises his brows and gestures to himself, face innocent. Then he gestures towards the wall of them all, like everything is for the taking. There's a certainty in it, like he knows the shopkeeper isn't going to give them any problems.]
If you like 'em... you can have as many as I can carry.
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Just for a second, though. Maybe two seconds.]
As a matter of fact, I think they would look rather impressive covering up the cracks in your walls.
[Buy him these bugs?]
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[There's a certain bitterness in that laugh, and it's short-lived once something dawns on him. It's an embarrassing moment when he realizes his first pick - one of the larger arrangements - is up too high for him to remove safely with his height. He stews a moment, lips pursed, then just kind of looks between Jindosh and the board as he moves to take up two smaller ones in reach.]
You can uh... get... that... and you can pick up one of those birds too, but not the big ones. [shut up] I'm grabbing a bone. We can carve it back home.
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Carving bonecharms however is the new highlight of his day right after robbing the bank later at night. He's thrilled. It's probably not obvious other than how he actually does look delighted, if only briefly before he has to lug this butterfly thing around.]
One of your more excellent plans. [compliment,] I won't be picking the owl's head, unfortunately, so do say your goodbyes to it now.
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You would separate us? I'm heartbroken. [He lays the two pieces on the counter before Brozenar (that's her name? who did this?) so he can place a hand over his heart, like parting from this owl head is truly so unfortunate.] You've taken the wind beneath my wings.
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[And he doesn't need it staring at him like some kind of awful puppet every time he turns around just because Paolo thinks it's hilarious. He sets the huge butterfly display down on the counter, only vaguely thinking about how he's the one who has to carry this all the way back to the saloon... how horrid.]
Tell me, if your plan was always to butter me up with trinkets, [dead things: trinkets] were you suggesting you'd buy me flowers, earlier?
[Like, he wasn't really listening... back then...]
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I mean, it was right there... didn’t know if you liked some pretentious floral arrangement, or uh... Yeah, I would have got you some. Just want you more comfortable until we get our hands on a place like this. With the business.
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As much as I enjoy these, [the dead things] you needn't concern yourself with placating me that much, Paolo. I am not going to lose my temper and go on a rampage through your entire pub.
[How uncouth? He might shout out of windows at Howlers in the yard if the mood takes him, but please.]
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[He waves a dismissive hand, looking back towards him with an amused but expectant look.]
Now, she knows who you are... and she knows who I am... and I know who she is, so we have a discount. Pick a bird, and let's go.
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Anyway, this shopkeeper is still terrified, and Jindosh spares her about 0.05 seconds of looking at her before he walks away to pick up his favorite bird (which he already picked out before, thanks) and bring it back. This one. This is the one.]
Will you accommodate me further by having someone else carry these back? [he...lazy]
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I'll get somebody to pick 'em up before the job. [That exciting BANK JOB... He's not carrying butterflies and birds around while he's heisting.] We should get you some proper clothes... then lunch, then... well, we wait. You can stand my company for that long, right?
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But no matter: the job!!!]
You say that as if I have a choice. Somehow, I think I will endure. [He is getting presents, soooo.]
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[He says, as if he hadn't barred him from leaving the Crone's Hand just the day before. What an incredible change of heart he's had over the course of one day... Anyway, he does tear a poor Howler away from their scouting for the very important task of going all the way back to their boat in the canal with their "uh... important contraband, yeah." He does take him to lunch, where he hashes out the explicit details from powering the painter's lift, to how many guards they'll encounter from then on, and how all things technical is kinda just left to Jindosh after that. In the remaining time until the sun goes down, he probably listens to how Jindosh knows the intricacies of the security systems, and probably interrupts to distract him with tales of murder in the taxidermy basement so he can stop hearing about Clockworks. Spare him.
All in all, he'd call it pleasant. He thinks back on how pleasant it was when he's suffocated another guard, dropping them with an exasperated sigh. They were always so much bigger than him... it's a trial not to make a sound.] I'm suddenly realizing... why no one robs the bank.
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And now, on the roof, he stands idly by as he watches Paolo choke out the last unsuspecting guard posted up here. He does like it better already that he doesn't have to crouch behind a corner and wait for Paolo to come fetch him. Anyway: the door, which he opens and steps inside. He has the good sense to finally lower his voice, now that The Plan is underway,] I daresay no one else in this city is capable of doing it, given the security systems in place.
[His. His systems. Did he mention he is so smart? He gestures for Paolo to follow him down the stairs and step lightly over an unconscious guard and through another door. He knows where he's going.]
Or perhaps it's the smell.
[Gross... well the first stop is the model roaming the main floor, as the others will require a little more system rewiring to get to in the first place. The security systems in here are, naturally, programmed to consider Jindosh friendly, but only Jindosh - a fact he remembers almost a moment too late, holding his arm out to stop Paolo from coming into view as the ceramic monstrosity stomps slowly past.]
Do you hear that? Whose voice is that, coming out of my machine? I swear I should have never given this miserable building a second of my time... You wait here.
[He needs to go march up to this horrible machine and reprogram it, a feat that starts with Jindosh snapping a few verbal code commands at it and then some irritable tinkering. Just uh, stand there and make sure no one wakes up somewhere down the hall? Thanks.]
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But look at it. It’s horrifying. He has to keep a grip on his sword to keep his cool, and he only finds his voice again well after it’s clear the thing it’s safe enough to speak.]
They’re... big. [He tried,]
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He looks over at Paolo eventually, like, yes? And?]
Of course they're big. You can see the merits of intimidation working right now, even from all the way over there. [small man, they won't bite (anymore),] Come here and have a look at it, since it will be skulking around your dusty yard for the foreseeable future. Don't dawdle, time is precious.
[come! see! his monster!!!!]
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He looks silly, peeking over Jindosh's shoulder, he knows. But he apparently values caution over keeping up appearances in the face of what he can't even begin to understand... if Jindosh weren't here, he'd probably have bolted.]
The... the bird head is uh... it's easier on the eyes.
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