Across the Island, The Wee Hours of Saturday Morning

[furnaceface]

When the residents of the island went to sleep the night before, all was as it should be. Ducks and flamingos were nestled in for the night by the pond. Rickshaw runners put in their extra hours, bringing the Friday evening crowd home from late nights at the bars. The streetlamps blinked on, one by one, and, deep below, the island's machinery ticked away, odd angles and detours of the island's interior architecture surrounding strange, unrecognizable components, bits and pieces that impossibly managed to fit and work together, and, among all the rest, clockwork.

All as it should be. Until, late into the night, the clockwork shuddered, and then stopped.

It didn't happen for terribly long. Barely a minute passed before something deep within the system realized the problem and compensated, nudging the clockwork back to life with a wave of encouragement and a good, solid kick. Slowly, the clockwork below groaned and resumed its tireless work, and nothing was the wiser as the night wore on, all as it should be.

Ducks and flamingos were nestled in for the night by the pond. Rickshaws were finishing their late night shifts, their spider-like mechanical legs clattering against the cobblestones as they strode down the streets. The gaslamps were flickering, illuminating the town throughout the night, airships drifting almost lazily across the sky above.

Just a normal night on Fandom Island. Though it could have stood to be a little bit more normal, perhaps.

[OOC: And so kicks off Steampunk Weekend! Have fun, folks!]

The C.I.C. - Weekend edition, Steampunk Style

[spectre_alenko]

Nate showed up to work dressed in black linen trousers, a smart white shirt with a silver-embroidered waistcoat, and of course a perfectly tied cravat. A small piece of clockwork winked from the top of the tie-tack.

He opened the door to the Aetheric Transmission Center, holding it for the raven, and went inside.

The counter was a length of polished hardwood and beveled glass panels. A large mechanical register sat at one end. Steam, soft beeps, and traces of aetheric vapor emanated from the open doors to the transmission chambers.

Pulling out a rag, he began to polish the glass of the counter, waiting for customers.

[OOC: Open, no OCD! Want to send a message to anyone? Need to collect a message? Need to talk to someone on the other side of the island? C'mon in.]

The Park; Saturday Afternoon [08/04].

[white_oleander]

It was certainly not a rare thing for Astrid to awaken and feel herself to be in an artistic mood; she even knew that she wanted to paint today, and she had a specific inclination to paint a landscape of the town. She considered the rooftop of the dormitory, but no, that wasn't quite it. So she gathered her things and headed to the park and, after some time walking around to find the best vantage point (made quite easy, really, thanks to her very sturdy and very...tall leather boots), she finally found the perfect spot to best capture the rooftops and all their chimneys spewing out all the steam and smoke from the machines that made their lives so technologically blessed in this day and age. Personally, she hoped she might chance to get an eyeful of an airship or the like in the sky as she worked, but perhaps she might just work one in anyway, if the composition called for it.

Setting up her easel (pity, really, that she hadn't enough money to spring for the very nice collapsible one she saw at the store, shining, gleaming, able to fold itself into the size of a simple spyglass with but the press of a button!), shifting around in the many leather pouches around her hips, then taking a moment to adjust her corset, her fingerless gloves, the decorative hat upon her head, Astrid set to work, making sure her palette contained plenty of gunmetal grays, worn-leather browns, and shiny bronze to capture the real feel of this humble little industrial drop in the ocean.

[[ open park is open for all your parkly needs! I personally might be a tad slow due to work, though! I just desperately needed to use this icon. ]]

T42 - Weekend - Steampunk

[hernando_fuentes]

Hernando blinked a little as he saw the front of his shop. The windows had new brass-and-bronze frames, the sign had become calligraphed paint across the top. Unlocking the door, he found the interior greatly changed as well. One entire wall had become a mass of pipes, hissing a little steam at the joints, all leading down to the water dispensers. The tea canisters were still metal, but now it was all embossed and bronze-rubbed. The electric lighting had been replaced with small flickering gas lamps.

The tables and chairs had taken on an elegance of polished wood and painted iron. The pictures on the walls had transformed to paintings - with the sole exception of the four Sparkle had given him.

The treats on the counter had become a smörgåsbord of dainty sandwiches, puff pastries, and tiny cakes. Including, Hernando noticed, miniature battenberg squares.

A door to a closet opened and an outfit rattled at him. He wandered over to take a look and one of his eyebrows rose. Fine wool trousers, a starched dove-gray shirt that matched the darker gray vest and scarf. A little amused, but willing, Hernando took the outfit into one of the bathrooms to change. Looking at himself in the mirror afterward, he watched his hair grow out. Setting his glasses down to rub his eyes, he then couldn't find them but also found that he didn't need them. With a very small sigh, he asked, "Please keep them safe. My face feels naked without them, and I would very much like to have them back soon."

Taking his place at the counter, he waited to see what the day would bring.

{Open! It's steampunk, you know you need a tea fix!}

The Parking Lot at the End of the Causeway; Saturday Morning [08/04].

[died8yearsago]

It had been a while since Rosa had really taken the time to work on her motorcycle, and, since she was already up and going that morning thanks to Seivarden slacking off on her radio duties, this seemed like as good a time as ever. So Rosa headed outside to the parking lot at the end of the causeway and removed the cover over her motorcycle. If it looked way different than usual, though, she certainly didn't seem to notice.

The same could be said for her tools.

Arlo 2 was there, too, usually napping in a patch of grass nearby or trying to eat bugs, inexplicably wearing a top hat and a bullet bandolier and refusing to be trained to help Rosa out by fetching the tools she needed. Whatever. She was mostly just glad to get some work done on the bike.

...still wearing those goggles on top of her head, even if this was literally the sort of thing that wearing those goggles could be useful for.

[[ don't judge me, I have ideas. Open! ]]

Syndulla Scrap and Airship Docks, Saturday

[futurespacemom]

Captain Hera might technically have some time off between cargo runs, but she never missed an opportunity to tune up her airship, the Ghost. She'd put out a sign that she was accepting more cargo and passengers for her next run, but unless anybody showed up, she'd be working on the steam engine, both hands and the mechanical tentacles she wore on her head deep in pipes and grease as she hummed happily.

If anybody needed to book passage or get to their own airships, though, she was here!


[OOC: Open post! Hera's human with mechanical lekku. Pretend; not like I could find icons.]

Luke's Diner, Saturday

[what_the_shock]

Doctor O'Hara had finally dragged himself out of his lab early in the morning after a semi-fruitful night of experimenting with his latest find. Not feeling up to making it himself, he had come to the local saloon for coffee and food.

The polished wood and bronze was soothing, and the coffee was good and the food was passable. Maybe he'd get a drink later, but for now the dim interior and a bite to eat were just what he needed.


[Luke's is open! It has TOTALLY ALWAYS BEEN a cattle-punky saloon, complete with dramatically swinging doors!]