don't let your dreams be memes

birds flying high, you know how I feel
sun in the sky, you know how I feel

Things have not gone as planned for you.

But then again, things haven't really been going as planned for anyone, have they? Lots of travelers have been waylaid here in Ok'Kotoll, and sure, you're running low on money and really miss your family and your aunt's house where you've been staying smells like korok dung and your prosthetic really needs a tune up, but plenty of people have it worse. The travel restrictions will lift soon, and you'll go home, and this will all be a funny story you tell about the time you thought you could make it in the capitol. Very silly, ha ha, who wants another drink?

That's what you think about as you sit at your stall, putting the final touches on a music box and humming tunelessly as you do. You're dressed as usual: a leather apron over a plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. Your metal left hand is disguised in a leather glove; your right is bare, nimble fingers swapping tools as you peer into the mechanisms that make the mechanical magic work.

The stall itself is in a corner of the metalworking district of the market, space you fought hard hard for and are rather inordinately proud of. The counter is cluttered with odds and ends, mostly metal figurines made animate by clever clockwork. It's a humble thing but brightly decorated, painted by your nephews and crowned with a hand-carved sign which reads:

Zero's Fun & Useful Items

and beneath it,

come by and ask us about our wares!

(So far today nobody has, but hey, it's only noon).

Zephyr

breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel

Adam

Adam had a pretty good idea of who and what was around on the Drench; his job was literally knowing things and he spent a lot of time wandering the streets, as well as looking ‘cool’ while he smoked leaning against a wall. That was exactly what he was doing when on the edge of the metalworking district he spotted a stall he hadn’t seen before, with a man he didn’t recognise behind it.

While usually this would only draw notice and a mental note, he found himself more intrigued here because of the wares on offer. He wasn’t interested in figurines, but the mechanical workings that had gone into making them. For a while now, he had been looking for someone to help him repair his radio equipment when it was on the fritz. He could do it himself, but in the same way someone who didn’t know how to cook could sort of make an edible boiled egg if given enough time. It would certainly be useful to know a guy.

Of course, that guy would have to be sympathetic to his cause and discreet, so there was some talking to do. Sidling up to the stall, he nodded at the sign. ”Okay, uh, Zero, tell me all about them.”

I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy
Don't come at me
I'm the main character and you have to like me

birds flying high, you know how I feel
sun in the sky, you know how I feel

Oh, ok, but you can see the problem. There's a cog just barely out of alignment, tiny as sparrow's eye, just out of reach of your screwdriver. Luckily you have more tools than that in your arsenal, and in a jiffy you've MacGuyvered up some wire and putty and a paper clip into shockingly nimble tiny tongs. Flashlight clenched between your teeth, you set about peering and prodding and poking. You're so deeply absorbed in you manage not to notice the man approach (impressive, because he's a giant) until he's looming up above you and talking, and then, well--

Actually, then nothing. You're more than accustomed to interruptions when you're working, usually by louder voices with less respect for personal space. "Juuuuuust a sec," you mumble around the flashlight, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you gingerly close up the music box. "Been tryin'a fix this all mornin', cross ya fingers'n toes, yeah?"

The flashlight slips from your mouth into your lap; you raise up the closed box in your gloved hand for the stranger to see, sunny eyes bright in anticipation, clearly expecting him to be just as invested as you are, as though this were a Kusund's jewels and not a weathered family trinket. The silver crank is turned to him, sparkling as brightly as your lop-sided smile. "Wanna do the honors?"

Zephyr

breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel

Adam

Being told to wait a sec didn’t seem to mesh with the signs enthusiasm, but Adam entertained the man anyway, leaning back and folding his arms as he watched Zero tinker with the uh..thing on the desk. Once it was righted and held out Adam could see it was a music box, though without knowing the significance his first thought was that it looked pretty run down and old. Kind of thing most people would throw away.

”Oh, uh…” Moving back in, he lifted long fingers to turn the crank, a surprisingly gentle touch from a tall guy with finger tattoos and black nail polish. ”Is this thing special to you?”

Regardless of whatever tune it played (assuming it worked), Adam would gesture to everything else on the table once more. ”I’d really like t’know what all of this is, though.”

I'm the gap between a tragedy and comedy
Don't come at me
I'm the main character and you have to like me