Chapter 8 - 5: Returning to Routine
Ellen stepped off the train, her sharp senses immediately tuning into the faint hum of Ether in the bustling air. The Sharkboo floated beside her, its stubby fins twitching as if it, too, was taking in the energy of New Eridu. The week away had left her changed in ways that weren't entirely visible, yet she could feel them in every step.
As she made her way through the streets, a nagging thought pulled her to a detour. Before heading back to Victoria Housekeeping Co., there was one more thing she needed to address.
Ellen pushed open the heavy door to the discreet workshop tucked into a quieter corner of New Eridu. The tinkering sounds of machinery greeted her, accompanied by the sharp scent of oil and metal. A gruff yet meticulous smith named Gerral, looked up from his work.
"Well, well, look who finally decided to swing by," Gerral said with a wry grin, wiping his hands on a grease-stained cloth. "Heard you've been laying low. What brings you here, Ellen?"
Ellen tilted her head, her gaze drifting to the various weapons on the walls. "Need a tune-up," she said simply, pulling the massive pair of scissors from her back and placing them on the counter. The familiar weight of the weapon felt different now—less like hers and more like a remnant of what once was.
Gerral whistled low, his expert eyes running over the blades. "These babies have seen some work. Still sharp, though. What exactly are you looking for?"
Ellen hesitated. "It's not just a repair," she admitted. "I need... more. Versatility, range. Something that matches who I am now."
The smith's expression softened, and he nodded knowingly. "Gotcha. Let's see what we can do."
For hours, Ellen worked alongside Gerral, her hands surprisingly deft as she helped disassemble and reconfigure the scissors. Her Sharkboo hovered nearby, occasionally chiming with sounds of approval or curiosity. As they worked, Ellen found herself explaining the strange shifts she'd experienced—the newfound balance of power within her, the clarity yet conflict of two souls intertwined.
Gerral, despite his usual gruffness, listened without interrupting. Finally, as they added the finishing touches, he gestured to the weapon.
"What do you think?"