CWC - The Summer

Chapter Twelve: Majorie: The costume is the character

A while back I created something. It was a simple dress up, nothing special, bit steampunk, bit fun, bit redhead fangirling. But when I came back the next day, and looked at that person, I realized that she was more than a costume. She was a character. She had a story, and I still don't quite know what it is, but she had a story.

And now she has a name. Along with a beginning.

My world is not a light one.

I live in Underbelly, London, and ever since the fifty or so EMP's that went off a few years back, things here have been darker thn ever. No electricity, no light, other than the flash of guns.

As it is still war time, and I happen to be quite skilled in the art of making things explode, I have been named resident bomb maker here in the Fifty Seventh section of our fine underground. And most of the time, I'm pretty happy. Sure, on occasion some idiot goes and blows themselves up, but other than that things are pretty good, I might say.

But recentlly I discovered something a little bit unusual. And of course George, my favorite nosy neighbor, reported it to the marshals. So now I'm basically running away. Buisness is still good though, and most of the Marshals that do catch up with me are happy to leave me alone if I give them one of my most explosive creations. And so that's life now, living in tents and blowing thins up when they get hairy.

But you want to know about what I found. Well, I was just tinkering one day, hoping to find some combination that pack a bigger punch in a smaller package. And I had this little thing made out of metal and a couple packages and then...

It started glowing. Electricity. Right there. Totally legit.

And deathly to no one but me.

So that's where this story really starts. A tiny little light and a nosy neighbor and one very...fine, scared, girl. I can't wait to find out what will happen next.

So yep everybody, lets hear it for the new Eliza! Welcome back to steampunk and a world ripped apart by war. And maybe, just maybe, welcome back to Thomas in all his idiodic glory. (Instert very pleased smile here.)

- Rose