recreatable | open post.

Right, and I'm notoriously stingy and unhelpful.

I simply assumed you wouldn't want an artifabrian getting their fingers into your possessions.

[ Okay, context clues suggest an artifabrian is some sort of artificer— ]

I'm not the biggest fan of other people touching my piano.

[ Notably, he takes no issue with Jasnah's fingers all over the keys. ]

But it's a small price to pay to make more of them, no? I'm not so selfish that I'd keep it all for myself.

[ Should she point out? Jasnah teeters on the edge, but — well! She'd hate to tip him back into further ungentlemantly hand discussions.

Carefully, though, she acknowledges what goes unsaid: ] I don't have requisite expertise to take a complex mechanism and rebuild it — and while I could soulcast stone or wood into the individual pieces...?

[ She lets her writing trail off. She'd need to understand those pieces so as to put them together. ]

Unfortunately, my brilliance has its limits.

[ he's not a hand perv he just happens to not mind jasnah's pretty hands fondling the keys oKAY ]

I could be your consultant, of a sort. I know how a piano works.

[ Kind of. Mostly. Good enough! ]

If we aren't able to do it, then we can ask an [ What was it? ] artifabrial.

[ By the weird, odd mechanics of spanreeds she somehow manages to circle the word artifabrial and, beneath it, rewrite ARTIFABRIAN. She underlines the last three letters. Pity it's not in red pen. ]

Engineers. Do you have that word?

Ingénieurs.

[ Another word for her burgeoning dictionary, thank you! ]

Considering I'm no ingénieur [ — see how she figured out the singular version of the original plural? So clever, these clogs — ] I worry what unintentional damage I might cause. However, if your risk tolerance is high enough, I wouldn't be against taking the first run ourselves.

[ Otherwise, she'll have to tap a resource from her mother's labs. ]

Edited 2026-01-20 02:37 (UTC)

I haven't been eaten seven times because I'm afraid of risk.

And yet I suspect you care more for your piano than your hide.

[ Not arguing the point: ] Yeah, well -- I trust you with it.

[ Oh. That's a nice feeling, isn't it? ]

Okay. But at the first flicker of doubt on your face as I'm digging in its guts? I'm sending for Rushu.

Edited 2026-01-20 02:57 (UTC)

Please don't talk about my piano's guts.

...Getting cold feet?

No.

Getting cold hands?

[ The honest answer: yes, she'll be nervous about ruining something he loves.

The answer she writes: ] Only one.

Then it sounds like you're well-prepared to go digging around in my most treasured possession's guts.

[ You know what? Storm it. It's out and on the paper before she can think better of it: ]

I'd let you write in my books.

Edited 2026-01-20 03:26 (UTC)

[ His mouth twitches. ]

What would I write?

[ If she tells herself his question is a stupid question, she can ignore how pleased she is for having asked it. ]

Whatever strikes you. Appreciation for a meaningful phrase. Corrections for bad logic. Questions you can't help but ask.

All right.

[ It's really that easy! ]

But I'm afraid I'm not as clever as you. You might have to correct my corrections.

It's a good way to learn.

[ Oh, look, we've made it full circle back to that depends entirely on whether the dummy can be taught. ]

[ A breathless, instant reply: ] Consider me your attentive student.

[ Wellll. If he's offering... ]

You know where my study is. Pick something under three-hundred pages. Annotations due on my desk in four days.

[ —It's not at all respectable how dry this makes his mouth. ]

Guess I should get to work then.

(no subject)

elsecall - 2026-01-20 04:05 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

recreatable - 2026-01-20 04:20 (UTC) - Expand