BuggaBoo
Bumble🐝Butt~!!
Markina - The Steampunker Inventor!
∘ | World and Plot: AU London late 1800s. A bunch of scientists come together to form a society where they may practice their wild and weird SCIENCE!!
∘ | Context: Markina is trying out her experiment for the 13th time on her doggo, Croissant, hoping it all dont explode
∘ | BG Motivation: She has been trying to perfect her multi-lingual translator: The 'Fauna-Speak Transmorgrifier for the 20th Century'!!
∘ | Post Inspiration:
"Please dont blow up..."
A couple more turns on the wrench. Pink tongue couldn't help but poke out the side of her mouth the same way she couldn't help but stare cross-eyed when her face was mere inches from her work surface.
Slowly now, zooming out from the hatch in the giant clump of pipes, metal, glass and coppery wire, the young woman still held a look of deep consternation. Finally her impression of a concerned statue ended. A lovingly worn and oiled up work glove raised to her face and wiped, attempting to clear up, yet invevitably grease up, an already greased up forehead. A dirty, leather fingertip tapped on full lips because why not add more grit and grime to her face?
At her heels, the rythmic thumping of a tail on the floor accompanied by a querying whine reminded her she was not alone in her endeavours. From the top of a bookshelf, relentlessly lined with multiple books molested by old and oily little fingerprints, a yowl reminded her that the metallo-kitty was hungry.
"Peine, mate. Relaaaaax. We'll get some breaky after we get this final test done, savvy?" she called over her shoulder, aiming her voice at the demanding yowls. All the while, baby blues locked on the spider eye'd cluster of gauges and light bulbs staring right back at her. The readout panel seemed to bare the only semblance of reason and rhyme upon the massive blob of bolts and iron and bronze.
Baby blues softened as she re-tied her obvious veteran worker's apron. Squatting down now, she stroked the canine at her heels, "And as for you, Brûlée? Mate, doncha' worry none. Your sister will be fine. Just fine. I promise."
Several more strokes she gave the dog before scratching the area where the metal plates met her hide. A brass and steel leg kicked in time, pleasure and bliss clearly spilling from Brûlée's face. A yowl yet again from the book case. Markie thought it sounded like jealousy in Peine call, but most likely it was another reminder that the top-hat wearing metallo-kitty was hungry.
"Alright then! I'm up. I'm up. Croissant looks stable... vitals are good... she's sound asleep..." the young woman removed her glove before checking the other smaller dog in the harness. That same look of consternation took over her face as she double checked the leads heading from the machine, to Croissant in the harness, and back to the machine. Full power. Full stream ahead, "Alright let's have a go then shall we? Mates, readies your headies! System is hot and we are a go...!"
A nervous giggle escaped her lips as she slid her goggles around her dirty tan face. Several switches she flipped up and pressed a button several times. A heartbeat after the whoosh and whir sounded out, filling the room, the small hairs on her arms began to rise. Same with her hackles. Baby blues narrowed as she gripped the ignition lever with both hands, "Peine, start minutes, please. Brûlée, watch that door please."
Markina had to raise her voice over the chuffing an chugging of the barrel-shaped engine beside her invention. Suddenly, smoke burst out of its stack. Crackling static burst into life, buzzing angrily out her machines speaker. Lights flashed and gauge needles trembled, barely grazing the redzone in the readout panel. The half metal, half dog in the harness began to genrtly twitch and sleepily bark. "Alright. Let's hear Croissant for the first time ever. Ahem! Test run number 13 for the The 'Fauna-Speak Transmorgrifier for the 20th Century'!! Subject Croissant stable and at optimal health! Witnesses Peine and Brûlée have visuals and recording minutes! And inventor, Markina Lahadita del Rios... wellllllll--"
Peine's tail grasped the quill tighter as he dipped the tip into the inkjar, shook and continued to scrawl madly onto the manilla sheet. Brûlée did a nervous 2-step at the door, her metal rear right paw, clinking nervously upon the concrete floor.
"--me? I'm mad as a hatter...!" Baby blues held closed tight for dear life. Markina then screamed in desperation as much as it was in prayer.
She threw the switch.
WC: 688
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