StarlitSiren

apologies for my own sloe down but will try to catch up on everything tonight x

There she was, sandwiched between Alica Von Vulf, who kept tyring to talk to her- the tinkerer had gotten the impression that she had work for her, but there were so many half-finished projects of her own littering the workshop... not that she couldn't use the cash, and on the other side was Willis Sloan, a man who held her by the throat with a noose of that very same money. She longed to be back in the comforting seclusion of Gearheart Repairs, and out of this horrible dress~ But, mercifully fate chose to spare her at least some part of one of the most uncomfortable nights in her life as Silas Ward took the stage. He was ever a showman- even she knew that- and at the very least, if she had to be here tonight, she would get to hear Carlo sing again. She normally wasn't one for music any more vibrant than the steady rhythm of clockwork, but there was something almost... magnetic about his melody. Something Millie couldn't put her finger on. Then the lights died as one, a dramatic crash into the darkness, and Millie rolled her eyes, instinctively clutching the strange metallic token that much tighter... and then came the melody. Not Carlo's. Something else. Something Queer, and familiar and alien all at once... The lights flashed back to life, and a crimson arc of blood splayed across the stage as Silas Ward slumped to the ground, choking on the essence of his own dwindling life. A moment of silence. Another. A heartbeat of a heartbeat, and as the creams began the light was extinguished once more. All around her was chaos, chaos and madness, as all sought to escape this place. People ran into one another in the dark, screaming and shouting, and Millie sat there motionless, frozen in space as her mind remained frozen on the dying man who had contracted her for work only last week. And she at last rose on shaking legs... only for some unseen person to crash into her, causing Millie to collide with and trip over the chair, hitting the ground with a thud as whichever panicking citizen had knocked her down harried over her fallen form. She groaned, trying to pull herself to her feet in the crowd, panic setting in... and never realising that somewhere in the dark and the terror, she had dropped Willis' treasure.

Would we recognise the figure as the legend of red jenny? given the myth?

I have ideas (assignment weekend but will try to get replies in once that's all done!)

Millie had been unfortunate enough to become acquainted with Mister Sloan her very first Month in Prospect Junction, and from the very start had seen the snake behind all smiles and well-mannered business acumen. As time went on, he stopped even bothering with the mask- why would he even need it anymore? She was trapped in debt to the man, and there was little the tinkerer good do to get out from under his thumb without a huge windfall. It's part of the reason she had started taking those jobs with the Exchange. 'One bad decision into another,' she thought glumly. There was a solution. There was always a solution. She just needed to think it out~ The man grabbed her arm- he was used to owning people, not mixing with them- and she barely had time to feel revolted as his touch before he handed her the object. She listened, she really did, but in some ways it was like the room fell away. 'What is this?' Folded into the little scrap of fabric was... well it was metal, that much was clear. Cool to the touch. Strangely smooth despite that it didn't look as if it had even been refined, and it reflected the light in a way that gave her pause. "Where-" she asked softly "did you get this-?" But Willis wasn't listening. He was already pulling her down into a chair and straightening up, the prim and proper Sir here for a show, nothing more. 'If it does anything weird-' she thought, musing at his strange words. 'What in the-' She rotated the tiny thing in her palm, slipping a finger beneath the velvet to run it across the queer material. So many questions... It was only then that she glanced to her other side, and saw Miss Von Vulf. The newcomer to Prospect Junction was... well, to put it bluntly, Millie didn't trust her as far as she could spit. The... doctor? she thought, had an unusual- and ridiculous- reputation in town, and despite that she had done some work for her, just here and there- money was money- Millie preferred not to mix too much with anybody these days. The more she engaged with these people, the more likely she would get mixed up in more drama than she wants... the more likely her new life here might come crashing down. Assembling machinery, especially anything new and experimental- was a slow, delicate process, prone to mishap and difficulty every step of the way. Breaking something apart could happen with just a single little push, accident or not. Trapped between a snake of a man, and a woman that the idiots here had decided drank blood, Millie desperately kept her eyes down in her lap, hoping to go unnoticed in the meantime, until the show began, the metal in her palm stinging slightly from how hard she was gripping it.

Back at Gearhart Repairs, besides the locomotive station she was employed for, there was almost always a scent that clung to the place. And she lived there. The dry, woody notes of sawdust, smoke from any manner of fuel she required, and as of these last few months the acrid scent of gunpowder. Living there, Millie had fully accepted- and even welcomed- that she wasn't to be at home with the others in this town. After all, she wasn't at home anywhere. But it was one thing to smell like a machinist in your workspace, and quite another outside of it. Millie could care less what people thought, usually, when she went about her business around the town she now called... well, something like home, but tonight was different, and she felt the lack of belonging like a cattle brand square on her forehead. Given the choice, Millie would not have been here for this performance. Given the choice. Millie eyed Mister Sloan, never wishing more than now that the expression about glaring daggers to be true. He a few feet ahead of her, likewise clearly uncomfortable in this jovial, fancy atmosphere, but he had some plans. Plans and Schemes, the only two things in the bastard's head, she was sure. When he had barged into her workshop just today and insisted she accompany him, Millie couldn't say no. By all rights, the man had her by the bolts. She had washed up the best she could at short notice, but still she could feel that scent on her. Was it simply anxiety, or did she smell like a manufactory? Not to mention her appearance. Before all... this, this last year, Millie had been used to this kind of shindig... or at least used to avoiding them, and she'd never felt comfortable then but at least her sister had made sure she was dressed and presentable. Left to her own devices, Millie had tried and failed to tame her hair, which kept disobediently crossing past her eyes and forcing her to discreetly fix it. She was perhaps the only lady present without any manner of makeup- why in the world would she own anything like that?- and her dress was...a choice. It had been the only choice, at this notice. A pale blue dress Calico dress with floral patterns in red that had looked fancy enough on its own at the General Store, but here around all of these other folk who clearly understood everything about people so much more than she, Millie just felt... almost alien. It didn't help that the neckline was... well, it was low enough that she was conscious about it, and kept tugging at the hem to try and pull it a little further up, only for it to slip every time. It didn't even show that much, anyway... did it? The dress, at least, went low enough that she hadn't bothered in a hunt for heels. Sloan could threaten her as he liked; she wasn't coming out without her boots down those roads. The evening couldn't end soon enough. Looking around all these people, she saw the familiar and the unfamiliar. Rich and Poor. Gentleman and Ladies alongside labourers out for a rare treat, Millie clung as far from the crowd as she could, half-leaning on the wall. She didn't belong here, not like the rest of them. She had work to do.

I like that!

(DOES THE TOWN HAVE A NAME OR HAVE I MISSED THAT?)

Fixed! went with the most basic of the options to begin!

gear updated!

I've drawn an arrow from Judge 'Holland' Buck to The Exchange (He's investigating them!) I have chosen the Identity: The Specialist -In the short time she's been in town, Millie has built a name for herself as eccentric, but talented in all things machine. Millie's more practical work to order- which she cares little for the motivations behind, a job is a job- are a means to an end for her to keep the freedom to experiment with whatever hairbrained thing comes into her mind... -Tinkerer Distinction up to d12 (New SFX added: d12 Spend a Plot Point to Reroll a die when using, repairing, or improvising with technology.) -Stepped up Tial-V to d6 (is fascinated by him) -New gear: @IsabellaRose messaged you with idea. I'll put it here once we have it straightened out I think... I'm all done then!

Motivation: Self Millie's life, at this stage, is about her OWN wants, her experiments, her tinkering, and this new found lease of life that freedom from a stifling family has brought. -Glory stepped up to d6 -Gearheart repeirs setepped up to 2d12 (we're going all in!) And let's get messy on the Miro board... @WickedCadrach ol' Willis Sloan is onto you, Missy, and he's getting some blackmail material together <3

Mo: The Tinker's Way Passion stepped up to d8 Wanted distinction stepped up to d8 Stepped up resource: The exchange Otis Sparks Tulley linked to Red Jenny (is deathly afraid of) Line drawn from Millie Gearthart to the silvermines: (Procures materials from) To clarify @IsabellaRose : I have a relationship on board with Tial-V- so I add them as a D4?

Secret Santa by StarlitSiren Harper had been at Smart and Co’s New York location for almost a year now, as secretary under the managing director. Smart and Co were an accounting firm with their fingers in business’s all over America, and with Christmas fast approaching, the entire office was in full holiday spirits, with every employee prepping for their last day of the festive season. Every employee. Except Harper. “Fuck-“ she wailed again. “Fuck-Fuck!” “Breathe deep,” Isla- her personal agony aunt at the firm- told her fauxx soothingly, clitter-clattering her way through the report on her desk without a care. “Maybe he won’t mind.” “How will he not mind?” Harper snapped. “This fucking office is like Whoville, and I do NOT want to be its Grinch.” Today had been the secret Santa gift exchange and- surprise surprise- Harper was this year’s idiot who had forgotten. There was always one. “Then just fucking blow him or something!” Isla snapped, still working her report. “I swear, you’re making this so much bigger than it needs to be.” Harper felt as if she had been slapped with the ferocity of that retort, and she watched Isla rise from her office chair to march out of their shared space, towards the printing room. Harper watched her go, speechless… not at the gall of it, rather… ‘No, no, that’s crazy,’ Harper thought, even as she stalked towards the bathroom and shut the door behind her. ‘What kind of girl would even do that?’ she wondered, even as she inspected herself in the mirror. She was short at 5’2, with golden blonde hair from a bottle that was presently tied up in a smart pony tail. Her eyes were a pale blue, and… well she worked out, enough to keep in shape, and men were… well, men, so maybe… “Fuck it-“ Harper said out loud. “Fuck it!” and again, and flushing a furious scarlet, she stomped out to the office, dug the label ‘To Julian, from Santa,’ And- after some quick thinking- made a reservation for the forth floor conference room, marked the meeting as ‘private’ and dashed upstairs, pulling the blinds and locking the door. ‘This is insane,’ She thought, even as she was thumbing an e-mail on her phone to Julian. Julian Carvallo worked in HR, but career disaster this might have been with anyone else, this particular married man had made eyes at her on more than a few occasions. And it’s not like Harper wasn’t looking for another job anyway, so- Another several minutes later there came a rap at the door, and Harper hurriedly unlocked it, ushered him in mid-greeting, and locked the door again. Whatever professional ‘Hello’ the handsome Costa-Rican had in mind for her had been lost on his tongue… Probably because in the few minutes he had taken to get here, Harper had stripped down to her too-small lacy bra and matching thong. Her clothing lay forgotten on the table, and the only other thing she wore was that little label. “Merry Christmas-“ She sang stupidly, and immediately regretted it, feeling herself flush crimson all over again. “I, uh-“ She felt herself cross her arms over her chest. “Sooo- I’m your, um-“ “I just can’t believe you didn’t wait for me to unwrap you,” was all he said in response, smiling at her from beneath those smouldering brown eyes, like the cockiest bastard in the world. “Always knew you were that kind of girl?” ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ she almost snapped, though realization quickly sunk in that- yes- she was almost nude in the office, here to proposition HR for a secret Santa present. Huh. She was that kind of girl. “Just- shut up, it’s the fucking season of giving!” she retorted. Why was this so awkward? Smutty stories always made it seem so fucking easy. ‘Be confident,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Confidence.’ “Now, you want your present?” “Oh, badly.” Julian closed the gap, wrapping his strong arms around her and whirling Harper around away from the door, perching her bottom on the edge of the conference table. He kissed her fiercely, lips and tongue and teeth, and Harper found her breath catching in her throat as Julian’s hands were everywhere. “Oh fuck-“ Harper managed. “I-“ she groaned as her colleague’s tongue traced a long, lingering trail along her neck. “I… wait-“ The beautiful man obediently pulled back, eyes questioning, and Harper rapidly- and utterly without grace- clambered up atop the table and laid down on her front, yanking at his trousers. “I, uh- your present-“ Still there was a slight look of confusion on his face. “I’m sucking your dick you idiot!” That wasn’t too vague a hint for him, at least, and Julian helped fumble with his belt, freeing his manhood from the confines of fabric between the pair. When Harper gasped when she saw it, it wasn’t because it was huge or any shit like that- though Julian was packing pretty well, that she had to grant the guy- it was the reality of this entire fucking thing sinking in. Julian watched her expectantly, and the blonde ‘not that kind of girl’ shuffled closer to plant a delicate kiss on his cock. A delicate kiss that turned into another, and another, more hungry, until she took him in her mouth. He moaned as her warm mouth engulfed ins dick, and that made Harper moan. Welp, if she got fired for this, maybe she could add ‘Oral Expert’ to her resume. With every bob of her head, she took him a little deeper, always maintaining a comfort level short of gagging, but with every little drop further onto Julian, he became more frantic. Minutes passed with no sound but for the moaning and the soft slurping sounds of her present, then some base instinct kicked in, and one of Julian’s hands roughly grabbed her by the ponytail, yanking her hard onto his cock. She gagged on him, felt tears well in her eyes, but surrendered control. He thrust into her mouth, each push coming closer to her limit, and somewhere within another minute she felt a hot, salty feeling explode upon her tongue. The grip on her hair loosened, and Julian pulled out, panting in exhaustion as his cum dribbled down her chin. “Happy-Christmas-“ she managed weakly. Julian just laughed, tucking himself away… but before he could reply, the unmistakable sound of the door unlocking as it opened inwards to the scene. There, framed in the Doorway, Damien Wood. Her manager. “Boss, it’s not what it-“ Julia began. “Get out of here- now- and say nothing,” Wood barked. Julian paused only a moment before retreating, tail between his legs, and shutting the door behind him. Mr Wood locked up again, turning back to the humiliated Harper… and pointing a finger to the corner of the ceiling . She turned her head, dread settling in at the realisation… and saw a camera watching the conference room. “It’s off now-“ Mr Wood assured her. “…and I’ve got the only copy secured in my office.” Stupid as Harper felt in the moment. Even she could connect those dots. So… fuck it. “Merry Christmas, then.” She told him sheepishly, and wiped the mess from her chin as her boss began to yank his pants down.

Priority: Work Millie threw herself into her study, her tinkering, her experimentation. After all, it was the only place where she truly felt she had control. Power stepped up to d10 Distinction: Wanted, stepped up to d6 (note to @IsabellaRose- that particular distinction wouldn't get another SFX until it hits d8, correct?) Stepped up Extra: Willis Sloan, to d6# Added a line from Millie to Tial-V (is fascinated by him) Drew a line from Otis Tully to the exchange (sells information to) I just want to apologise to everyone for my slow responses, and I see I need o get some pictures for my extras! I'll do that ASAP! (it's been so busy over here)