fandomtownies | The Magic Box, Thursday

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$magic box,
jenkins

The Magic Box, Thursday

Jenkins hadn't kept a lot of his own personal items on the island -- when all you had to do to go home was call up a portal, you didn't tend to relocate very thoroughly -- so it hadn't taken him long to pack up. He probably should have left last week, once his class had ended, but he kept finding another excuse to stay a little longer.

He stood now outside the Magic Box, sipping one last Perk iced latte and just watching the town.

That was where he'd killed that giant rabbit not long after coming to town. And also where the shark had landed.

Good times.

[This is Jenkins' last post. Open!]

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Peridot was making her way through town with a box in her arms, full of various bits and bobs, metal scraps and wiring that she'd been collecting over the past little while in hopes of re-creating her limb enhancers. When she spotted Jenkins standing around, of course she made her way over to greet him.

"What are you looking at?"

Pleasantries were for other Gems. Clearly.

"Ah, Ms. Peridot." Jenkins nodded to her with a small smile. "I suspect I shall miss you most of all. Do gems ever take moments to reflect on the past and how much things have changed?"

Peridot tilted her head up at him curiously for a moment, and then looked at the street around them.

"For most Gems, nothing changes," she replied. "But... I have, on occasion."

Because things had changed a lot for her.

"Yes, I imagine you have quite a bit to reflect on," Jenkins said. "Is there a particular place you prefer to do it?"

Peridot tilted her head, considering.

"There are the rocks, out by Selkie Cove," she' offered. "It's quiet out there. And at night, there's a good view of the sky."

And of Homeworld's galaxy.

"That sounds positively lovely," Jenkins said. "Perhaps I'll come back some day and you can show them to me."

With the two of them, that "some day" could be well in the future. There was no rush when you were a rock or an immortal.

"Maybe," Peridot agreed, a touch of wistfulness in her voice before she looked up at Jenkins, brow furrowed a little. "You're leaving?"

People seemed to keep doing that. Even the ones that were supposed to be forever, apparently.

"I'm afraid so. It seems my colleagues at the Library are simply unable to save the world without my regular assistance."

"I know that feeling," Peridot replied. Because hey, Earth would have been crumbs by now if not for her!

... And an intrepid lot of other heroes from Fandom. But, you know, mostly her.

"Regular assistance. So you'll be gone a while."

"Indefinitely," Jenkins confirmed. "Though -- I will still have a phone. It may be nice to receive occasional calls from someone who's been around even longer than I have." Santa fell into that category, of course, when you factored in all his different incarnations, but honestly, that man was kind of insufferable.

Peridot blinked, and then rummaged through the box she was carrying for a moment, pulling out her phone.

"Should we make an exchange of digits, then?"

Because people kept leaving, but it wasn't so bad if she got to keep in touch with them. Maybe.

"I would love to." Jenkins got out his own, a present from Ezekiel, who'd insisted that if he were going to have non-Library friends, he needed the ability to access Twitter. "Let me see, how do you tell what numbers are associated with this particular device?"

"Well..." Peridot squinted a little at her own phone, and then poked buttons until she found her contact list. "Aha! There, at the top, the one that says 'me!'"

She paused, and then added, "Only yours would be you, not me."

'Dot.

"The top of. . . . Ah, I see. Excellent. Though -- not to insult the technologically savvy, I think I'll jot yours down on a piece of paper first." Look, he could program the Danger Shop just fine -- that had a seriously idiot- (and luddite-) proof control system. But paper was built to last.

"Ah, yes," Peridot replied with a nod. "Analog methods of data recording. Popular here. Less prone to corruption."

She came from a race of people who were prone to corruption. She knew these things.

"Precisely." Also, Jenkins was sure he knew how to do it.

He pulled out a small notebook and pen and flipped to an empty page. "Whenever you're ready."

Peridot gave a quick, businesslike nod, and then rattled off her phone number. And then one more time, just to be sure. And then looked at Jenkins expectantly.

"And yours?"

It took Jenkins a few moments to call the screen back up -- his phone had already gone to sleep again, but he was able to read his off in return.

"Now, if you don't mind my asking, what are your intentions for that box of parts?"

Peridot entered Jenkins' digits, deposited her phone back into the box, and then looked down into it at his question.

"Before coming to Earth, I had very specialized equipment," she explained. "It was taken from me some time ago, and I've been hoping to replace it since. It it requires some very particular components, some that are difficult to replicate on Earth..." She looked back up at him. "I miss my screen. And my feet."

Her gravity connectors were fine and good. But feet? Those were where it was at.

Jenkins looked down at where Peridot's legs touched the ground. ". . . Yes, I rather imagine I'd miss mine as well. Have you had any luck locating the components you need?"

"Some," Peridot replied, looking down into the box. "Not all. Earth doesn't have the same mineral compositions as Homeworld, but I think I can improvise... something."

Maybe a toe?

"Perhaps take advantage of some of the organic compositions that Homeworld is missing?" Jenkins suggested. "Not for the screen, perhaps, but for the feet, maybe."

"Organic... feet?" Peridot looked down at her... kind of socky feet and wiggled her toe-like-bits. "Would they last, do you suppose?"

"Not as long as the rest of you. But I imagine you would want to improve upon your design from time to time anyway -- having them slowly wear down would give you extra motivation to try."

Peridot's eyes widened slightly at the thought.

"A... a constant challenge...?"

You were speaking magic words here, Jenkins.

"For when you need a break from the challenge of trying to understand humans."

"I need to take breaks from that all the time," Peridot confessed. And then smiled a little. "It's something to consider. Organic materials..."

It never would have occurred to her.

"Any time you need someone to consult on it," Jenkins said, smiling. "You have my number."

"I do," Peridot agreed, grinning up at him. "I'll do that, yeah!"

Something to look forward to! She had needed that!

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The Magic Box, Thursday

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