Okay, finally got around to this. I got a bit carried away with the writing, so don't expect all my posts to be this long, they're usually more like a paragraph or three.

Alex is an inventor, twenty four, pale and lightly freckled. He's not exactly famous, but he does have a reputation in certain circles. He's wearing, at the moment, a plain cream dress shirt rolled up to his elbows under a light brown vest and matching trousers. Over this is a darker brown long jacket, embroidered down the back and many pockets in plum and gold.
In public he would normally be more dressed up, the shirt similarly embroidered in plum and with either a dark brown tie or cream cravat.

He has very dark brown hair, which is usually slicked back -- as it is otherwise embarrassingly wild -- and is extraordinarily tall, with thin feminine fingers.

The rest, while I have it written down, will be discovered in time, I suppose.


-----

Alexander fumbled with the magnifier, a polished device of several glass eyepieces, trying to read his own writing. Of its own accord, his other hand reached up to pull at his dark hair as he squinted. At the last moment, he caught himself, and brought it down to rotate the paper he was trying decipher, before it could muss his hair -- neatly combed, unusually for him.

“Aha!” He exclaimed under his breath.

“Of course, an ‘S’. I really must try to improve my handwriting. How I manage to make ‘S’s look like ‘N’s I just don’t know.” He shook his head reprovingly at himself, and the servant across the room cutting pipes down to size raised an eyebrow, though it fled back down his brow as Alexander looked over.
He strode quickly towards the other man, waving the paper triumphantly.

“I know what happened!” He pointed to the nine already cut slim pipes that lay on the wooden table.

“Three of those are unnecessary, which is why there was not nearly enough room for them. Though, perhaps nine would be a better number… I could easily make more space behind the engine.” He stared into space briefly, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, before coming back to the present with a little shake and removing them guiltily, pausing only to finger the embroidery.

“No, no, definitely not. I am being foolish, of course. Nine would not work. Silly of me to think it would.” Without waiting for a response, he wandered back to his table, leaving the disgruntled man behind.

“Sir,” the servant started.

“Hm?” Alex answered, absentmindedly. It was unlikely the man would have anything to contribute, and he rarely listened when the labourer spoke.

“’Scuse me, but ain’t there a girl coming about now? It is five to four, and ain’t that when she was supposed t’ be here?.”

The inventor frowned, momentarily confused. “A girl? No, I don’t think so. I don’t usually have much to do with woman when I am busy working. They can be quite distracting, in my experience.” He said ‘in his experience’ as if that made it an absolute truth.
The servant sighed, fighting exasperation. Mr. Hale was such an idiot. Technically, he was also a genius, but sometimes it could be hard to see.

“Not t’ visit, sir. Y’ remember, Mister Hale, that ergle-manter woman.”

Alexander Hale blinked a few times, pale face exhausted. “You mean… Buckley? Miss Buckley? The ergaleomancer? Right, of course. I best make myself slightly presentable for the woman, hadn’t I?” And then, he added inwardly, I can sleep. Oh sleep, how I’ve missed you.

He walked steadily, albeit slightly dazedly, out of the room and up the gleaming stairs. The servant, a forty-something called Linner, sighed and waited for less then a minute before he saw Hale appear at the top of stairs in the same garb he had just ascended them in.

“What was I…?”

“Goin’ t’ get dressed properly, sir. Too late now though, she’ll be here any minute, she will.” Linner paused. “No disrespect intended, but after this thing is done, ya better stay put in yer bed for at least a week,”

Alexander allowed amusement to cross his face ever so quickly, then frowned at the older man, before settling in a chair and closing his eyes, leaving it to Linner to make the cluttered tables look, at least, somewhat decent. He smiled once, tiredly and proudly, at the unfinished machine that glinted it the centre of the room, then drifted, unintentionally, into a doze.

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, his servant heaved a great sigh, and waited for Hale’s new partner.

Theta wasn't used to going out on her own to strange men's houses. But nonetheless she was here, in her usual clothing no less. She didn't dress like a woman, and frequently people confused her for a man. She liked it when they did that, it made things a lot easier on her. She didn't correct them. She waited on the doorstep and pulled the bell cord, waiting to be let into the house. Apparently, this odd inventor had an idea that could be improved upon with the magic of ergaleomancy, and despite how truly thrilling the concept was...it seemed no one else was interested in stepping up to the challenge.

There was a good chance she might -fail-, actually, and she knew that trying this and then failing would set her up for humiliation. But to take on this challenge and =succeed=, especially when her peers were so dead set against it...that would be a proverbial feather in her cap that would last for the rest of her life. And certainly it would entitle her to a modicum of respect in the field. Not that she hadn't already earned a good deal of that. No doubt that was why she was even offered the opportunity.

But...the opportunity had been given, she had taken, now it was on her shoulders to make the most of it. So she was here, waiting to be let into Alexander's home so that she could have a closer look at his designs and begin working on the ergaleomancy end of things to transform a metal box with seats within into a device capable of taking its passengers -anywhere-. If they could manage it once, then it would be only a matter of time before they could entirely revolutionise the world...

Alex jerked awake at the sound, glancing wildly around. He rubbed his tired eyes and stared blankly forward. What…? He might of remained disorientated for a while longer, but his much more awake servant reminded him of his visitor, and he shot upright.

He didn’t have much faith in the woman, but he had heard of her -- and her oddities -- and it wasn’t like he had people lining up for the job. This may not have been his original line of study, but he did not want to fail. He would not fail. If this woman could help, he would let her.

Trying to smooth the many wrinkles in his clothing, Alexander waited as Linner went to welcome Miss Buckley. He would have to be confidant and friendly, two things he wasn’t very good at. He felt himself tensing, a slight pain shooting up his chest.

He took a breath as he thought, hoping to calm himself. How could he have forgotten about this for so long? There was now no time to organize. He gazed frantically around, looking for the locations of the models Linner had put away somewhere. She wouldn’t understand the theory, or the importance, and he would have to explain it, likely repeatedly. Few of the men he associated with, in the rare times when he went out, understood exactly what it was he was trying to do.

Idiots…

But soon, soon they would understand exactly why it was important. They would understand when he showed them. He smiled for an instant, before realizing he had no real of idea of how to greet a lady in his home. The pain in his chest increased.

Fortunately, he thought wryly, she apparently wasn’t much of a lady at all. Stop panicking!

Then he heard the door open down the hall, and froze.

He didn’t know what to do. Alex began to tremble slightly. He didn’t know what to do, and she was just going to stand there and stare at him, probably was going to walk out, and his machine would never be finished because he would never be able to find anyone else to work with him and that would mean he had failed.

Quickly, he searched his pockets, trying to control his breathing. There! He pulled out the small bottle, relaxing minutely.

--

There, that was better. He could breath now, and a headache he had hardly noticed he had began to fade. He could do this.

For being someone that was reputedly a cripple, Theta moved remarkably quickly. The less time she spent on her bad leg, the less it hurt, and she'd taken to moving at a very fast clip with that in mind. She was shown into the drawing room to wait on her host's personal appearance, and while for a person capable of standing it would have been considered rude, she did believe her disability entitled her to -some- things. If nothing else, she reserved the right to have a seat if one was available. She settled on one of the couches, setting her hat on her lap while she waited on her host to appear.

She'd been told enough about the job that she was itching to begin, and to be fair she already had a few ideas about how to go about beginning, but she wanted to wait on a chance to speak with him before she launched into any great and intimate details. It was still mostly his idea, and she was certain he would want to have some input on its implementation.

So where was he? What was taking so long? She started to tap her cane on the floor while she waited.

((I don’t know too much about steampunk or the Victorian period, so I’m not entirely sure what the social norm is… Sorry! Please tell me if I make any drastic mistakes. Also, I was talking to my friend, and she said she was going to draw something for my 16th birthday (which was like a month ago…) so when she asked me what I wanted, I asked if she could draw Alex. She wanted to know where he was from, so I was telling her about this rp and now she’s gonna draw Theta too. She wants to know how tall Theta is.))

Alexander waited a few seconds for the Bromium to take effect, then moved into the drawing room. As he was entering, debating whether to take the time to explain everything or just those pieces the woman would need to understand – and would hopefully be able to understand – his chain of thought was suddenly derailed.

Sure, he had heard she dressed oddly, as if she thought she was a man - who hadn’t - but seeing it firsthand was a different matter. He raised both eyebrows, looking her over. She was also sitting down, on the green couch. To be fair, he had heard there had been an incident of some sort that had damaged her leg.

His eyebrows stayed where they were.

Collecting himself, he addressed her.

“Miss Buckley?”

Was he expected to make small talk? He hoped not, but the woman would likely take offense if he skipped the frivolities. Woman did seem to love their frivolities. This was why he disliked dealing with them, and people in general.

“I am glad you find my project of interest, though, of course, you may not fully comprehend it. I know it can be difficult for a woman such as yourself to grasp such concepts, but I believe, through effort, understanding can be gained.” She probably did not understand the first thing about it, he thought privately. Barely pausing, he continued.

“Shall we examine the plans, or take tea and play at conversation?” Aware that he sounded slightly snappish, he tried to smile, but knew he looked quite awkward. He really did need to get out more often.

((Theta is about five foot three, but since she leans heavily on her cane, she's stooped to about five foot one. That's so sweet of your friend! And happy belated birthday!! ^_^))

Theta narrowed her eyes behind the magnifying frames she wore, utterly unimpressed with him already in an instant. But she was also somewhat used to this treatment. She stood up quietly, setting her hat down to the side and heading towards the man. "By all means, lead on to your workshop. You can tell me all about your project on the way. Tea would be lovely, but if we forego such affectations as teacups and a full service, we can fit the cups on the worktable no doubt."

She wasn't going to try and -fight- him about how he obviously saw her. Doing that would only frustrate him and prevent him from listening. No, she would play to his ego...and quietly humiliate him. "What is it about your project you think is so complex? Are you thinking of using an inverted flux capacitor and an anti-matter string particle to reign in the spline at the top end? I've done that before, and as long as you remember to calibrate the reticulation rate in hertz instead of ohms, it's not all -that- complicated...."

((Don’t mind the technobable, I’m just making things up with no idea of what I’m saying… Also, SORRY!! I had been writing so much the week before last when I had no school, and now that I’ve got a new semester I have been writing hardly anything! Sorry sorry!))

The arched eyebrows, which had begun to lower themselves, shot up again as Elizabeθ spoke. Alex reached up to rub at his tired eyes, realized that was probably not something one should do with a guest, and stopped, hand hovering by his chest. Quickly, he tried to turn the movement into something different, tugging at his tie in an attempt to straighten it.

Oh why did this astonishing display have to come at a time when he was so ill prepared. He was momentarily shocked, then excited – she was truly interested if she had gathered this information from some other in order to impress – but both admiration and surprise were fast banished by his passion for the topic.

“Mmm.” He shook his head briefly. “That was my original plan, but I’m afraid I do not have the materials to build such a capacitor. I was the victim of a burglary a short while ago, and,” he added sheepishly, “with all the various devices and mechanisms I have already purchased, I do not believe I have the means to acquire another.”

He had dedicated a lot of himself to this idea, this revolutionary concept. He could still feel himself becoming giddy when he thought of how close it was to becoming a reality.

“As for complexity, I would not ever say this was simple. If it was so, why has a machine of this kind never before been constructed?” Alex smiled as he spoke, happy, as always, to be speaking about the things that interested him. He guided his guest to his workroom, excited and talkative, for the moment forgetting that he would likely not be understood.

“The idea is to- to stop, to basically… freeze, I suppose, the machine. To…isolate it and its movements from the- the movements of time and space around it… Like a brake, in way. So… so…everything moves, right? Time… flows, moves forward, and, and the people, these ‘time travelers’ are... are separate, pulled into another dimension and held fast in one point, one position… so time and space and these four first dimensions are- are continuing, progressing, ever moving, and we – well, not we as in us, but the hypothetical we, the general we – we are not. That way, that way when we… drop, you could say, back into our… back into space and time, they have progressed while we – ah, not we - have not. In effect, we – they – travel backwards in time. Or, with the proper timing, anywhere in space.”

Suddenly realizing who he was speaking to, as his words and feet both came to a halt, he sat on a wooden bench, settled himself, then jumped up, remembering to pull a seat out for his guest, expecting to see a blank look on her features. He did truly like her, as much as one could like someone they had only just meant, as she seemed interested and a reasonably intelligent woman, which was at least better then most he had spoken to. But still, he would have infinitely preferred someone with a better capability to understand the theory.

She listened to his ramblings, nodding along with them and quietly filing away her own thoughts. It would take a lot to get them to a point where they could cohesively work together, surely, if the expression on his face said anything at all. He didn't think highly of her, and if it was so painfully obvious...why did he even ask her? And she smiled a bit when she realised she had the answer to that--no one else wanted to. Everyone else thought this was some hair-brained scheme that wouldn't work, didn't they?

"Well, if you're looking to create a temporal sinkhole like that...a flux capacitor wouldn't be the ideal way to go. I mean, a capacitor is a -capacitor-, and inverting it will only make it worse. You'd make the temporal drag -larger- rather than smaller. What you need is a compounded resistor, and those are cheap enough. The hard part is all of the clockworks you'd need to add in..." Clockworks that only an Ergaleomancer could build. He needed her. "...to do the calculations and calibrations for it. Unless you're planning on keeping an engineer on hand to pilot the thing--that'd be great if you intend to mass produce this as a new method of transportation, but...somehow I doubt that's the angle you're going for."

She settled in the seat he'd pulled out for her, mildly annoyed with his manner but still far from being genuinely bothered about it. Overall, it was all right. Now if she could indeed get a cup of tea, and get him to stop all but pulling faces when he talked to her about the technical details of it all... This might just work.

Alexander frowned briefly “Hmm. Yes… I suppose I see. I must have been thinking about an earlier prototype…” He stared for a moment, trying to think past the tiredness that fogged his mind. “Stupid mistake, that.”

Wait. How – how did she know such things? He looked at her sharply, trying to see if she had been reciting from memory. But, no, she seemed to have been genuinely thinking about it. He rubbed at his temple with two fingers, barely stopping himself from pressing a palm to his eyes. He was not going to ponder this, not now, not when he was having trouble walking in a straight line.

“Yes, yes, I do understand the – the large requirement for clockwork. That is why you are here, is it not?” He shuffled through one of the haphazard piles on the table, pulling out a selection of papers and handing them to her.

“I’ll speak no more about my wild theories” He smiled slightly, almost bitterly. “You need only examine these. I’m no ergaleomancer, but I believe I understand the basics of what I require. ” Alex lapsed into silence, eyes wandering the wood table. Why did he have to be so awkward?

“Oh! Right. Uhm, there was meant to be tea, wasn’t there?”

Theta was being dismissive of his ideas and using her own mostly because she thought it was the only way to impress him. She was running roughshod over him, and she didn't miss that he didn't rise to the challenge of defending his idea. But if he wasn't going to challenge her... She smiled gently, feeling like she'd earned her place now.

She took the papers from him and flicked her eyes over them, considering the designs he'd drawn out. Well, it certainly was...fanciful. But aside from a few places where he'd left room for a clockwork compensation mechanism to handle actively breaking the laws of physics...it might well have worked. Now if she could just make sure she -could- compensate for those pesky things known as the laws of gravity and other suchlike.

"I see where you're going with this. It...shouldn't actually be so difficult as all that. You just need a few clockwork physics de-stabilisers and their companion protection bubblefields. If you can build the main body of this machine you've got in mind, I can fit those in the fourteen points of spacial stability around it. I can get work on those in a 'loose' setting and just fit them in when there's a place to affix them to."

She helped herself to a pencil from the table and started editing his designs slightly. Although she was doing it free-hand, there was a mathematical accuracy about what she was drawing, and she could draw a natural straight line.

As Theta worked, Alexander called his servant and tea was eventually set between them. Alex frowned as he watched his designs meticulously edited and changed, unsure if he liked her approach.

“Exactly what is the purpose of changing the rotation speed of the particle shell? I’ll need the higher speed to stabilize the inner atmosphere… there is a certain duality there, you see.”

Why had he let her access to his plans now, anyway? She had not even agreed to do this for him… what if she took was she saw here to some other man, some competitor? He conveniently over looked the fact that he had virtually no competitors.

She did seem unusually interested… and there was no way, even as intelligent as she appeared, that a woman could do this on her own. Chewing his lip, Alex came to a decision, slowing the breathing that had sped up minutely.

“Wait.” He reached a pale hand out and covered the papers she worked on, pulling them slightly back towards himself. “Are you going to do this? Are you going to help me? Without that guarantee, I cannot allow you to continue viewing this information.”

She paused when he asked about editing the rotation speed. All she was doing was adding in access points for her to add in the clockworks that he would need. Unless... She flipped down one of her magnifiers and squinted at the paper. "Was that supposed to be an eight instead of a six?" She erased it and waited for him to tell her what she ought to have written.

The accusations and sudden flare of protective secrecy were totally unexpected, and frankly upsetting. She set the pencil down and folded her hands in front of herself, not even acknowledging the tea that had been set out. If he wanted to play -that-...he could find someone else. Except he had no one else, and she therefore she held the advantage.

"Really? Let me be blunt. If I had no interest in working on this project, I would have said so by now. But badgering me and that way you get all but cross-eyed every time I say something intelligent is -not- conducive to encouraging me to assist you. Now. Obviously you have -some- regard for my skill, or you would not have even invited me. Or did you catch the Buckley name and think that my father would be coming?"

Alex tensed as she spoke, fighting down anger. It wouldn’t do to chase her off, because, as she no doubt knew, he had only her. Perhaps he was being overly paranoid, but nothing would make him admit it.

“I have devoted the last five years of my life to this machine! You-!” He stopped and forced out the words, “Forgive me if I am unduly cautious. There is… a lot of myself in this.” He gestured, somewhat melodramatically, around the room.

“I invited you because I believed you understood clockwork, perhaps better then any other. I did not expect for you to supposedly be an expert in every aspect of my project!”

He took a calming breath. This was ridiculous, becoming so upset over such a thing. She may not wish to admit it, but she is a woman, though one of the most talented I’ve met. How can she expect me to not be amazed?!

He collected himself slightly, and muttered: “An eight. Yes,” pulling the papers fully to his side of the small table and scribbling the number in himself.

The modifications she'd made were simple, simply adding in holes in the machine that would allow her clockworks to poke through and do the job they were needed to do. She pulled her hands back from the papers and sighed, letting him fuss with them. "Yes...I understand about how intimate your workings would be to you. Believe me, I do. I guard the schematics to my personal projects just as fiercely. But you're the one that handed them to me to look at. It's unfair to then panic because...I looked at them."

"As to my areas of expertise...clockworks are -used- in these fields, more so than they are used in other pursuits combined. Of course I understand them to some extent, though no, I am not an -expert-. Perhaps now that I've convinced you I grasp the basic material, though, you'll relax a bit about my basic nature?" She gave him a very pointed look at that, silently willing him to accept her point. Not that she had any psychic powers--it would be nice, she supposed, but all she could do was pray and hope.