Toys [Emery]

[Harlow Yvonne]

Harlow’s dainty hand curled into a fist, lifting to hover over a very worn door. With a wrinkle to her noble nose, her arm gave way and the second attempt to knock was lost. A brown gaze that was flecked with a quiet curiosity lifted to peer at the sky. The sun was dipping below the horizon so the sky was the color of a feline’s puke. Maybe if the cat had eaten nothing but royal salmon for years on end. It was a botchy pink color with messy tides of burn orange. It wasn’t even very late. Had it been, Harlow would not be standing outside the home of a male. Alone save for the two escorts she requested from the palace’s staff that evening. She was a lady in waiting after all and it would be improper for someone of her rank and age to be alone in this part of the City.

Her weight was small, settled evenly between her scuff and dirt free brown boots. The top of style that season and straight out of the Empress’s closet. The girl was questioning why she had eaten up her whim of an idea. She had tracked down the inventor’s address awhile ago from the tax records but never thought she’d go to visit him.

After the display at the palace, the girl had many questions for him. The biggest one weighed heavily in the breast pocket of her jacket. The pocket watch of her late and beloved father no longer ticked in time with her fluttery bird like heartbeat. The calming effect it had when some of the staff members lost face with Harlow’s eccentric habits and need to learn exactly how things worked. Maybe the inventor could save the watch, save her courage. Maybe help her even save face.

Drinking the biting air of the evening, Harlow tucked back a lock of her wood colored tresses. Groomed to perfection and fussed over by those that made her look perfect to play the part of the Empress’s left hand. Bex would quite obviously be the right. Always on top of things and in the know. Of course, Harlow suspected an agenda was behind all the busy-body antics the darker beauty presented. However, that was not the younger one’s place to speculate. She was there to look pretty and get someone to fetch whatever whim the leader of their land wanted at a moment’s notice. It was Harlow’s job to just be there.

The girl’s escorts were getting impatient. Shifting their weight back and forth on their dark booted feet and thinking about the sultry dancers at banquets. Or maybe they were thinking of their wife, child, lover, or pet. The reason they did what they did. Bring home the bread for their family in a very hard time. A pang of embarrassment bit dusted over the sharp cheekbones of Harlow.

With three quick raps, her fist was meeting to the hard door. Hopefully Emery would be home and willing to see guests. It was getting late now and she was a silly girl with a silly watch and sillier questions. Fascinated by the man’s toys and ideas. And his dirty finger nails.

She rocked back to the heels of her feet and pinched her shoulders back with the lift of her squared jaw. Please, let him be home…

[Emery]

There was a face men of his stature put on for the public. It was a face of smiles and euphoria; of pleasure that their world would continue to evolve. Truth be told, their world was evolving and continuing at a rapid rate. Yet, how much further? How much more could Emery do for the people of Elysia as a whole? He was the son of a man who had made changes to the point such would echo throughout time! They'd study upon him. They'd know of him. He created machines and harnessed steam within a way no other understood, and he died for his country.

Where did that leave Emery? Fatherless. Motherless. He had been still a child when his father's funeral ceremony had taken place within the palace proper. He had been of high stature and Emery had been there. He had been at the casket with his hand upon his father's cold grip. He had learned everything the man had taught him. Now, Emery continues to flip through the old journal of a man long gone; creating and even improving on what the man had mustered out of his knowledge. Now Emery took his father's place...

"We've spent our whole lives searching for a way to make a better world," Emery breathes outward as his face lifts from the wash basin; hands clenching the sides. Water drips down his cheeks from his damp hair. He lifts a towel to his features to bury; scrubbing away any stains left from his late night work within his own personal home. Then the sound came to his ears. It's a staccato note; reminiscent of the fall and lift of a mount's hooves. He turns his head and grunts before lifting his hand to rub at the front of his throat; his collar undone and baring the flesh. He didn't quite feel like dressing properly for one guest. Then again, who should he be expecting?

So, wearing naught else but his trousers, well-worn boots and shirt, Emery makes his way for the front door with his hands wringing within the towel. Little did he know who he'd be seeing. If he had? Maybe he would have taken the time to make himself look more proper. Yet, that's not the case. He opened the door and half-expected a young boy from down within the lower district; a courier of sorts. The lad often came to him with deliveries and at this point such a visit wouldn't be uncommon. So, when he had opened the door...

"You're a bit early, Will--" No, that's not right. He had hardly looked at the person standing there as he drew the door open; his chin tucked toward his chest and eyes upon...dainty feet. His eyes flit up the length of her skrits before suddenly...Harlow. He knew her. He had seen her. She had looked thrilled at his visit at the palace and display of the new revolutionary rifle; an improved experiment of his father's own. Now, Emery could only start dumb founded.

His tongue feels like leather within his mouth and his heart leaps within his chest! Bugger, his Elysian-homestead was a mess! It's truly within no condition to be accepting court officials such as Harlow. His eyes flit away from her and to her guardians; men at either flank ready to strike anyone who comes too close. Emery swallows and leans off of the door jamb before bowing respectfully to her. His hands toss aside that towel onto a nearby table; the door leaning against his foot. His eyes return to Harlow's face and soon her own eyes.

"If I had known I'd have company then I would have cleaned up," he says simply. "I hope all's well within the palace proper? Or have you come to drag me to the stockade?" He questions of the men beside Harlow who say nothing. He looks back to Harlow and takes a step back; hand falling to the latch of his door before pulling such open to reveal the innards of his household. With stacks of leatherbound books, pages and folders; machinery and even raw material were stacked everywhere. There was even a boot with a plant growing out of such upon the windowsill! Eccentric, truly. This man was nigh unlike any other.

"Please, come in, my lady Harlow," he says simply as he gestures to the room as a whole with his freehand. "Now, may I ask why I'm being paid such a wondrous visit?" He questions.