[ And he'll even remember to send a courtesy message letting Fiddleford know when he leaves the house! Granted, given that the lamp friends make traveling so easy the time between his message and his knock on Fiddleford's door barely tops five minutes. But it's at least something. ]
[The warning is appreciated for exactly that reason. Fiddleford has to brace himself for Ford's presence. Ford Pines showing up without ample warning is easily at the top of his list of recurring stress dreams.
He has by this point grudgingly set up his own lamp friends on the theory that if he's going to run a business it ought to be easy to get to, so the knock on his door coming so quickly is at least not a surprise. He takes a deep breath in, deep breath out, and opens it. It occurs to him pretty much as he sees Ford's face that they have not actually interacted in person since before, uh. Since a while. Hm!]
Come on in. There's no hole in the floor anymore and I've actually got places to sit.
[It is honestly looking much nicer inside than it used to. The floor's been redone (no hole!) and the walls have been painted a dusty shade of orange that clashes with the herby green cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen. In the open living space there's a small coffee table and several mismatched chairs, one of which has a book under the clearly broken front leg.]
[ It has been a while, and it would be a lie for Ford to say that he's not a little nervous about it - but since his own emotional state is one of those things that Ford lies about constantly to both himself and others, lie he does. He's not nervous. Just excited!
And it's easy to believe that, because Fiddleford is his friend, and being excited to see him (especially after something of an absence) comes naturally.
Especially when he's confronted with evidence that Fiddleford is, in fact, adjusting to life in Trench. ]
You're making good progress. It suits you.
[ Ford may have his own opinions on 70s-era color pallets but there's absolutely no denying that they're exactly what he expects from Fiddleford. ]
[Honestly he did expect a comment about the color. It's surprising, but pleasantly so, that Ford has managed to pay him a compliment without it coming out like an insult.]
I figure if this is my home now then I'd like it to be homey. It's getting there. You come across any secondhand rugs without too many blood stains, you let me know.
[He walks back across the room but does not actually sit. For some reason it still feels weird, having Ford in his space, like it's normal. Just a friendly visit. Between friends.
Quick. Fill the air with something before the silence gets uncomfortable.]
Your, uh. Your present's on the table.
[It's small, easily held in one hand, and wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with red yarn. Nothing fancy. He can't imagine how hard he'd have had to search to find chintzy patterned wrapping paper in this place, much less anything appropriate for a holiday that doesn't exist here.]
[ Ford's always been artistically inclined, but more than a year of living with Mabel and being friends with people from Remnant really forced him to care about both interior decorating and color theory.
He still doesn't quite have a normal sense of either, of course, which is why he chuckles at the blood stains comment. ]
You'll want to check for blood magic infusions as well, in that case.
[ He once saw a bafflingly expensive cloak women from individually enchanted fibers. He has no doubt something similar has been done with a rug.
As for his present, he picks it up and starts to carefully unwrap it. If Fiddleford didn't want him opening it right away he would have said something. ]
[It feels oddly heavy for something so small, and as Ford pulls away the paper it will be clear why: it's a knife. A folding pocket knife, the kind with a spring mechanism that flips it open. Its handle is also inlaid with--]
I figured if you were so keen to sample my blood I ought to just give in. Now you aren't allowed to ask me for it again in future. This is what you get, and we're square.
[It's obviously something Fiddleford made himself; it's got that at once scrappy and kind of ornate look that he tends toward. The blade is only about as long as a finger but then, it's not meant to be a weapon so much as a tool. A pocket knife can do a lot if you're creative, and Fiddleford knows Ford is creative.]
Funny you mention magic because it has a little bit in it. You push the switch forward one click to open it, twice to heat the blade. You could use it to solder somethin' if you really wanted, or to cauterize a wound the next time you do somethin' stupid.
[ It might not be what most people think of when they picture a nice knife, but knowing that Fiddleford made it tells Ford plenty about its quality. Even Fiddleford's equivalent of hacked together junk has a particular durability to it that's hard to match. Since this is a gift, he's got a pretty good idea of the level of care Fiddleford must have put into it.
The knife alone is plenty of reason to be excited. But as Fiddleford explains its assorted features Ford's expression suggests that the mere fact that Fiddleford used blood magic at all is a separate gift all on its own. ]
Fiddleford, this is magnificent! What's the maximum temperature the blade can handle?
[ Without waiting for an answer, he clicks the button twice to activate the heat feature. ]
Upwards of six-hundred Farenheit. I told you, you can use it to solder. It's a little inexact, gettin' it to where you want it, but I couldn't work out a way to dial it in without the whole thing bein' way too bulky. No point to a pocket knife that can't fit in a pocket. You have to just sort of feel it out.
[What he means is, use your magic brain to kind of direct it. It's not his area of expertise and that is on purpose. He doesn't think too hard about how he directs his electricity or the various things he can make it do when he purposefully gets his blood on things, he just goes on gut instinct.]
[ Right around an actual soldering iron, then. Hot enough to be efficient but not at risk of hitting temperatures equivalent to, say, a welding torch. And, indeed, more than hot enough to cauterize any wound should Ford find himself in a difficult situation in the future, which he surely will. A perfect balance. ]
A good reason to experiment with it once I'm home, then.
[ And then, in a tone that is more genuine and warm than what Fiddleford is used to hearing from him, he adds: ]
Thank you, Fiddleford. I'll make good use of it.
[ And he folds the knife and tucks it away into one of his coat's inner pockets, where it'll be easy to reach. ]
[Ha, yeah. That is kind of weird. It's like for just a split second all the weirdness between them has been pushed aside and things are how they were back in the Backupsmore dorms.
Hm.
Anyway!]
You tell me if it needs any adjustment. I'm still gettin' the hang of this whole, uh.
[He waves a hand.]
Witchcraft thing. Like to think I'm pretty thorough but often you don't see an issue until you're out of testing and find a new use case.
[ Fiddleford is not only doing 'witchcraft', he's actually admitting to be willing to do more of it in the future. This day just keeps getting better. ]
Of course! I've always found Coldblood to be highly reactive, but more predictable in its interactions than most others, so I'm sure if there's any issues troubleshooting will be straightforward.
[ Unlike trying to work with Paleblood, which always feels wishy-washy, or Darkblood, which seems to only do what it feels like half the time. ]
Have you had a chance to work with any other blood types yet?
[He shakes his head. Unlike some people he isn't quite comfortable just up and asking for someone's blood.]
Just my own. It seems the most... practical. What'm I goin' to do with Paleblood, make a gun that puts you to sleep?
[... Actually that's kind of a sickass idea. Maybe he should talk to Luna. That seems like the sort of non-violent option she'd like to foster.]
Most folks here are Hunters and they just want somethin' straightforward that'll keep them alive. You want to see the shop? It's still a little messy but it was way worse when I got it.
[ Ford, very predictably, lights up at the prospect of seeing the shop. He and Fiddleford might have different methods and work towards difference purposes, but they're both inventors and tinkerers and Ford has always enjoyed observing the work of fellow craftsmen. ]
I would.
[ As for Paleblood weaponry... ]
I've tried to isolate the potential hallucinogenic qualities of Paleblood in ammunition, but I haven't had much luck. Vileblood seems better for disorienting beasts.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cryptograms) wrote2021-09-04 07:34 pm
no subject
[Nailed it.]
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I don't mind. I have some things to grab from Prufrock anyway.
[ He did not get Fiddleford anything in exchange, but he's always been more of a birthdays guy anyway. ]
I won't be interrupting if I head over there today, will I?
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[He doesn't expect a gift back, mainly because he has (rightly) guessed that Ford completely forgot. That's Ford Pines, baby!]
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[ And he'll even remember to send a courtesy message letting Fiddleford know when he leaves the house! Granted, given that the lamp friends make traveling so easy the time between his message and his knock on Fiddleford's door barely tops five minutes. But it's at least something. ]
no subject
He has by this point grudgingly set up his own lamp friends on the theory that if he's going to run a business it ought to be easy to get to, so the knock on his door coming so quickly is at least not a surprise. He takes a deep breath in, deep breath out, and opens it. It occurs to him pretty much as he sees Ford's face that they have not actually interacted in person since before, uh. Since a while. Hm!]
Come on in. There's no hole in the floor anymore and I've actually got places to sit.
[It is honestly looking much nicer inside than it used to. The floor's been redone (no hole!) and the walls have been painted a dusty shade of orange that clashes with the herby green cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen. In the open living space there's a small coffee table and several mismatched chairs, one of which has a book under the clearly broken front leg.]
no subject
And it's easy to believe that, because Fiddleford is his friend, and being excited to see him (especially after something of an absence) comes naturally.
Especially when he's confronted with evidence that Fiddleford is, in fact, adjusting to life in Trench. ]
You're making good progress. It suits you.
[ Ford may have his own opinions on 70s-era color pallets but there's absolutely no denying that they're exactly what he expects from Fiddleford. ]
no subject
[Honestly he did expect a comment about the color. It's surprising, but pleasantly so, that Ford has managed to pay him a compliment without it coming out like an insult.]
I figure if this is my home now then I'd like it to be homey. It's getting there. You come across any secondhand rugs without too many blood stains, you let me know.
[He walks back across the room but does not actually sit. For some reason it still feels weird, having Ford in his space, like it's normal. Just a friendly visit. Between friends.
Quick. Fill the air with something before the silence gets uncomfortable.]
Your, uh. Your present's on the table.
[It's small, easily held in one hand, and wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with red yarn. Nothing fancy. He can't imagine how hard he'd have had to search to find chintzy patterned wrapping paper in this place, much less anything appropriate for a holiday that doesn't exist here.]
no subject
He still doesn't quite have a normal sense of either, of course, which is why he chuckles at the blood stains comment. ]
You'll want to check for blood magic infusions as well, in that case.
[ He once saw a bafflingly expensive cloak women from individually enchanted fibers. He has no doubt something similar has been done with a rug.
As for his present, he picks it up and starts to carefully unwrap it. If Fiddleford didn't want him opening it right away he would have said something. ]
no subject
I figured if you were so keen to sample my blood I ought to just give in. Now you aren't allowed to ask me for it again in future. This is what you get, and we're square.
[It's obviously something Fiddleford made himself; it's got that at once scrappy and kind of ornate look that he tends toward. The blade is only about as long as a finger but then, it's not meant to be a weapon so much as a tool. A pocket knife can do a lot if you're creative, and Fiddleford knows Ford is creative.]
Funny you mention magic because it has a little bit in it. You push the switch forward one click to open it, twice to heat the blade. You could use it to solder somethin' if you really wanted, or to cauterize a wound the next time you do somethin' stupid.
no subject
The knife alone is plenty of reason to be excited. But as Fiddleford explains its assorted features Ford's expression suggests that the mere fact that Fiddleford used blood magic at all is a separate gift all on its own. ]
Fiddleford, this is magnificent! What's the maximum temperature the blade can handle?
[ Without waiting for an answer, he clicks the button twice to activate the heat feature. ]
no subject
[What he means is, use your magic brain to kind of direct it. It's not his area of expertise and that is on purpose. He doesn't think too hard about how he directs his electricity or the various things he can make it do when he purposefully gets his blood on things, he just goes on gut instinct.]
no subject
A good reason to experiment with it once I'm home, then.
[ And then, in a tone that is more genuine and warm than what Fiddleford is used to hearing from him, he adds: ]
Thank you, Fiddleford. I'll make good use of it.
[ And he folds the knife and tucks it away into one of his coat's inner pockets, where it'll be easy to reach. ]
no subject
Hm.
Anyway!]
You tell me if it needs any adjustment. I'm still gettin' the hang of this whole, uh.
[He waves a hand.]
Witchcraft thing. Like to think I'm pretty thorough but often you don't see an issue until you're out of testing and find a new use case.
no subject
Of course! I've always found Coldblood to be highly reactive, but more predictable in its interactions than most others, so I'm sure if there's any issues troubleshooting will be straightforward.
[ Unlike trying to work with Paleblood, which always feels wishy-washy, or Darkblood, which seems to only do what it feels like half the time. ]
Have you had a chance to work with any other blood types yet?
no subject
Just my own. It seems the most... practical. What'm I goin' to do with Paleblood, make a gun that puts you to sleep?
[... Actually that's kind of a sickass idea. Maybe he should talk to Luna. That seems like the sort of non-violent option she'd like to foster.]
Most folks here are Hunters and they just want somethin' straightforward that'll keep them alive. You want to see the shop? It's still a little messy but it was way worse when I got it.
no subject
I would.
[ As for Paleblood weaponry... ]
I've tried to isolate the potential hallucinogenic qualities of Paleblood in ammunition, but I haven't had much luck. Vileblood seems better for disorienting beasts.