I am a Factory Girl // {closed; Celena
May 18, 2011 22:51:34 GMT -5
Post by Baby Wessex d9b [earthling] on May 18, 2011 22:51:34 GMT -5
On shipping days Genie was always careful to stick to the smithy. It wasn't an easy job; first you ha to put on the heavy gear, which included leather overalls, gloves, and boots and a metal face mask. None of it fit properly because it had been sized for her brothers, and her family couldn't afford to order an entirely new set just for her. After suiting up, you had to be able to lift the rods and instruments used to coax the metals into shape. And then of course, there was the forge. In short, it was a process, and one that Genesis quite liked. It was more challenging than homework (well, mostly) and more secluded than any other activity than sleeping.
Except for shipping day. Then the gunsmith's shop became a tornado of activity, some check-ins by the Peacekeepers, to some sly bargaining, and finally the carting off of their wares. Genie didn't like to be involved in all of that; it smacked of something broken, of desperation. Where would the Alders be, if not for luxury commission and rare, ever so secret side deals? The Capitol would not keep them clothed and fed for things they considered necessary, even though Genie held in her hands the literal weapon of their destruction. She was sure they had something much more powerful than a few dozen pistols, but...
And she cut the thought short. Guilt welled up from her stomach and stuck in her throat. Who dared to even think such mutinous thoughts? She wanted to wipe the sweat from her brow but the gloves and mask would not allow such a soothing gesture. Instead she let the honed hammer fall again against the orange, glowing metal on the block. Ting, ting, ting. The rhythm softened her angry insides, buried the guilt. Still, she jumped when her eldest brother materialized next to her, and demanded that she change to help organize the shipment.
Genie went, head bowed and covered with a streak of soot where she had hastily swiped her glossy forehead before taking off her gloves. Two Peacekeepers were deep in a discussion with her uncle in the front lobby. One eyed her for a moment before returning to the talks. Her brother guided her outside into the hallway of one of the massive District Three buildings. It had always seemed normal to her that their firearm smithy was the basement of otherwise white and orderly electronics factory, just as long as she didn't drag any soot out into the hallway.
Her brother gave her the shipment manifest and then sent her outside to find the man who was supposed to be handling the details. She pressed her lips together. Her uncle was a gifted pistoleer and artisan, but he had never been the wisest businessman. Why on earth he had agreed to a new shipping arrangement baffled her. Genie took the slip of paper and made her way out into the cool evening. The street was mostly deserted; people either went home in time for dinner or worked until it was closer to midnight than sunset.
With no sign of the man her brother described, Genie felt her stomach begin to knot again. If she came back empty handed they would be disappointed, but then at least she could get back to the smithy for a few more hours. But, if she did manage to find the transporter, they might see that she could be responsible and let her do more of the careful etching worked for which she so longed. Casting her gaze down the street and back, Genie lifted her abdomen, squeezed her tummy muscles, and stepped into the path of the first person coming her direction. "Excuse me? Have you seen anyone, uhm, from the Capitol around here?" She brought her broad almond gaze up to Celena's and almost lost the remainder of her nerve. She had never seen someone so beautiful, except for on the television, in her entire life.
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lyrics:florence + the machine heavy in your arms
lyrics:florence + the machine heavy in your arms