(204): Text me later if you aren't dead and wanna have a drink later

[fe_male]

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Blacksmithy
WHEN: Prob like Nov 16 to Nov 23? Flexible rn until i get more input.
OPEN TO: Annie Cresta, Sam Wilson, others.
WARNINGS: I doubt it but I'll edit if that somehow comes up.
STATUS: Closed twice, open otherwise. not that. there's that much of a difference

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Open:

Tony wasn't really sure why he kept coming back over here so often. It wasn't like there was anything to actually forge. He had a few handfuls of nails he could clean off and melt down - needed to melt down, really, since removing them from their previous embeddings had bent nearly all of them into being little more than gradual triangles if force were applied to the heads a second time. Nails though are still difficult to use without some sort of mould, although he was starting to suppose he could just try something to see if it worked. That would work better with the larger pieces, like the hinges, since they wouldn't have to be completely melted down to change their shape, since he didn't think he had all the tools for that anyway. Regardless, it wasn't like he had much else to do, beyond keep up with his hand to hand, attempt poorly to forage, and continue dismantling destroyed houses.

Regardless, he's here anyway. Probably attempting to repatch something that was previously already repatched itself but working at least well enough to be, you know, working. The whole place is generally workable but needs updating in many respects. In his mind at least.

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Modified closed to Annie Cresta:

It's the same thing except he has like. This big pile of nails he's sort of. Just. Staring at. He's not sure what to do with such a finite amount of metal to work with, and he really wants to make something, but at the same time he doesn't know what to make. He knows he can make whatever and just redo it later, but that actually - here - runs through resources that aren't as infinite as he's accustomed to, and he's working to keep that in mind.

So he's attempting to run through all the scenarios mentally, so see what. Would work best. It's... having limited results. Most of which involve him staring intently at a pile of bent nails because there's no one to talk to here like he talked to JARVIS, and there are no holograms to project his thoughts to, so everything has to be internal.

[ This is literally 'my character is x-ing by the lake come bother him but feel free to notice like. an unnecessary fire dying in the forge or tools that don't match sitting out if she'd notice that sort of thing. Basically everything here reeks of at least one project that abruptly stopped. With like. Several tools nearby and a bunch of nails. ]

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Modified closed to Sam Wilson:

He's not even been attempting to fix or use the forge recently. Instead, he's been steadily - when he can or isn't already working on some other project - attempting to dismantle the houses that were already damaged by the earthquake to a point where they cause more problems to fix than otherwise. Architecture was never his particular foray, but he knows enough about it to work with these - what can be removed now and potentially put back later, what can be removed and is too damaged to be anything but replaced anyway, etc.

Tony's making what appears to be one of at least a handful of trips - this might be the last one considering once he dumps his armload into the part of the floor he seems to be using as a dumpspace it starts to roll and blob into more of the walkway; tony promptly kicks it back into place, apparently assuming the given hiking boots are totally a match for boards with nails in them and whatever else it is he's grabbed at first glace.

He's actually crouched down and about to start resorting items just now. He picked each one specifically at the site, but now that they're here, they need redoing.

Comments

[fe_male]

There's a lag of a few seconds where it might seem that Tony didn't hear her, but that's just his thoughts taking a little while to resurface to the level where external communication is possible again. The physical shift is marginal, if visible at all, but if she's good at body language - and I'd imagine she is - she'll still be able to locate when he returns to the land of the conversant.

"Crying internally at the lack of integrated circuits in subpar-Bermuda and wishing I had access to literally any form of network or keyboard-based input. I'm also trying to figure out if I should try and make these into arrowheads or if something like knives or even spare parts for the plumbing or mill - or shit, the forge itself - would be better. We don't really have the materials to just let spare parts sit around, but simultaneously not having spare parts sitting around could make things pretty terrible very fast."

At the end of this, Tony finally twists around to look at her. "What are you doing?"

[treadswater]

She's done that often enough herself, had that lag while consciousness returns to deal with any new company, that she doesn't mind. She waits, and doesn't particularly seem as if she's waiting, either.

The babble that comes the man makes her blink, but then she internally shrugs: that, too, is something she's done often enough that she might as well be polite and listen to the important bits.

"I'm, um. Seein' if there's anything useful I can do here. I make glass, back home. So, I know a bit about heat and dealing with hot things." Then Annie frowns.

"If they're just taking down deer, do they need actual arrowheads or can they just use sharpened ends of the shafts?"

[fe_male]

"Are they just taking down deer?" he asks, pointing vaguely at her with whatever is in his hand. If he'd glance at it, he'd know it was a fork from the food he had earlier - he'd apparently been fiddling with it while in thought. "Because I got a friend who can take out a tank with a tictac and ten minutes holed up in the town's inn beat half to hell after apparently a fight with a mythological monster."

He's not trying to fearmonger, but they do at least need to be prepared, right? It's just common sense.

Anyway. "That could be good. What sorts of glassware did you make?"

[treadswater]

You can kill people with forks. She'd thought about it, once, on her Victory Tour. Sat at a dinner in her honour and stared at the cutlery and ran through all the ways they could be used to kill people. Even the spoons. She'd started giggling at the time: now her eyes cross faintly as she focuses, then her gaze moves to the hand holding the fork.

If the man were to do anything, it'd come from the hand, not the implement.

So she tries to ignore the fork, and focus on his words.

"That sounds more like you need a gun or a catapult, not an arrow." But, still, maybe it was a mutt that was a trap, not an ongoing threat.

"Vases, jars, bowls. Cups. I don't think paperweights would be useful here, but I know the theory of make planes of glass, for windows."

[fe_male]

"Yeah, well," Tony starts, turning back to look at his pile for a few moments before tossing the fork on top. They've got plenty of them. "I'm working with what I've got handy. Or potentially handy." There's really not a whole lot he can do about it, about any of it, about anything here at all, and he's not used to this feeling of impotence, of powerlessness. He's felt it a select number of times in his life, and it's never gone well for anyone involved. In the end, sure. But it took a hell of a lot to come back around.

He listens to the list, considering the options here and there. "So, relatively basic workmanship. 'Theory' means you've never made one? Think you could make a convex lens?"

[treadswater]

She rolls her eyes, a little, then pauses at the rudeness of it all. Swallowing, she shrugs.

"I don't have a manufacturing background," she explains, "but an artist's. Glassblower. I, uh didn't think making a multi-coloured, hah, glass octopus would be useful." No matter how intricate, no matter how much she manipulated the tentacles.

Then Annie cocks her head, considering. "Theory means I never had reason to. But you blow out a cylinder, cut it and lay it out flat. Just gotta move fast enough to make sure it's flat.

Um. Convex lens? Ye-e-es but it wouldn't be a precise grade without grinding tools. I can blow out a small, shallow dish, then work with it while hot. Or a sheet and slightly dip it."

[fe_male]

Rudeness? He hasn't even begun to be rude. What rudeness? He's stating facts. She just listed the kind of stuff someone makes in their beginner ceramics class. You can make that kind of shit out of Lego.

"Specifically? No. But I wouldn't discount the ability to merge multiple forms of molten lava together in whatever shape is intricate enough to look like an octopus."

That doesn't mean he's not slightly worried about her idea of a convex lens, but then again that's sort of his fault for over-simplifying. "How about putting two of them back to back? Better yet, a convex objective lens outright; loses the potential for air bubbles."

[treadswater]

Annie had not been raised to be dramatic, and yet, there's an element of that in her. The Career Academy worked on it, the tiny sassy girl with her opinions. And although she's away from the art scene she sells to, some of it stings. Basic workanship, as if she hadn't been working on those skills for five years. As if she hadn't improved, or as if there wasn't a difference between the bowl of a rank beginner and someone who knew what they were doing.

But she'd be fair: she had rattled off the basic forms, rather than the skilled level of them. Mostly because she's been thinking of what might be useful instead of just giving him all of what she knows.

"I... think you might need to sketch that out for me," Annie says finally. "And I can only be so precise. I blow glass, and I don't have any grinder here. But if we get things workin', I can do what we can. And we can work at it." Her mouth twitches into an almost smile. "It's not like glass isn't reusable."