Grimoire

Chapter 4-Sleeping apples

 Vyncynt spent the first few hours of their journey in brooding silence. A conversation was impossible speeding down the highway and angry that his Grimoire was terrified of him. He was not upset with her, she could not help the fact his height unnerved her. He felt like he had been skewered with a gear lever when she spoke those words.

He would never hurt her or crush her with his domineering presence as she seemed to think. How could she know that he felt her essence from a different room? She had long ago sacrificed her memories and intact remembrances brought the taste of rotten apples.

He turned his mind to the sensation of wind flowing through his hair and long stretches of winding roads underneath the wheels of his bike. The highways branched out of the main cities were long and winding like a spring stretched holding the tiniest of spirals.

The gears on the highways were much larger than the ones in the more populated areas, they ticked away slowly like the heart of a giant sleeping dragon. It was a comforting sound, especially for an Arkane such as himself who had spent centuries building and repairing Pendulum's gears.

After a few more miles, Scars turned off the main highway and stopped in front of what appeared to be a dead end. The gears of her bike whirred when their mana supply was cut. He pulled up beside her, removing the bike's mana stone as he did so.

"We walk the rest of the way," she said.

"What about the bikes?"

"They should be fine. Whenever I have the time I take this way, my bike has never gone missing. We are making great time so let's make a stop. Riding long distances always makes me hungry."

She then proceeded to balance herself atop a man-height gear and drop down the other side.

Vyncynt put his hand out to stop her in fear that she would hurt herself. He reminded himself, though she may think she is part human, she was still a Grimoire. Like himself, her bones and muscles were akin to steel. He had seen her tear a cog off the wall his height and throw it like a disk. Ah, those were the years, his beautiful, forgotten nightmare of a Grimoire.

Vyncynt lithely propped himself on the massive gear, cat-like, and peered over. Scars mauveine eyes gaze from between rotating mechanisms. The angle darkened her features and emphasized the almond shape of her eyes; his heart leaped at the sight, for a moment he thought she had unknowingly shifted into her Grimoire form.

If she had, he would not have been able to contain his desire; he would have kissed her there and then. Even if his mind knew that such an action was prohibited at the moment.

"That gear you're on ticks every sixty spring turns. Be careful not to slide to the side. There is a railing and ladder if you are uncomfortable with jumping. The last thing I need to do is explain to Mr. Donovan why you no longer have a right arm," she called, voice floating to his ears as a cello resounds through multiple rooms. It settled on his skin like one of her many caresses. The ache in his heart ceased.

"It would just grow back in a few gear-turns anyway," he mumbled.

"Did you say something?"

"No," he replied, "just counting to three."

He dropped off the ledge, the long tails of his coat flapping demented, broken wings. He landed lightly on his feet. The grating supporting their bodies rattled; by sound, he knew the railings had been created a few centuries ago. He placed his hand upon the metal, sending his mana to access the solidness of the steel. It would remain solid for another century or so before it would start needing repair.