Theodosia was ecstatic about starting school at Illyria College. But exactly one thing dampened those high spirits.
She would have a roommate.
And as a girl in a no-girls-allowed school, that was kind of an issue. But Thea did her best to shove aside the thoughts, the slight anxiety growing into an ugly monster in her gut, and instead focused on where she was. Why she was there. And the fact that she would get to stay there, if she just laid low long enough to reach the Science Faire. Stick to the plan, and everything'll be fine.
She took a breath, pushing open the door to her assigned room as she adjusted the single bag on her arm. Her only bag, the one that carried all her current possessions. In her other hand, she held a portable terrarium of sorts, full of varying plants, each one with a purpose. And a name she'd given it, but that was beside the point. Her eyes flickered around the room, taking in the place she'd be living, before landing on the boy already in there. Her roommate. And he looked like the kind of guy that could maybe be a problem. Great.
Ryan didn't even bother turning around to look at his roommate when the guy walked in. He instead occupied himself with unloading the things he had brought. First out of the bag came his spare arm, which he had locked into place to keep it from damaging itself. Next was his tool belt, which he carefully set down on the bed. Some of the tools he had were small and fragile, so he treated it as if it was a ticking timebomb. Then came his clothes. Those were brought to the left-handed closet and tossed inside. Finally, he turned to his roommate and gave the guy the once-over.
"Ain't you a little small to be a man?" he asked in a gruff voice, meeting the new guy's grey eyes with ease.
Oh great. Thea sighed softly, exhaling through her nose as she continued arranging her plants inside the case. She straightened only after finishing, arching an eyebrow at the guy. "Not really. Two point five inches under the average height ain't that big a' deal." She crossed her arms over her chest, face set in a sort of dead looking scowl, hiding her surprise. The guy had made it twelve seconds now, and was still going. Yes, she was counting how long he could hold eye contact. She did it with every person. So far, her brother held the record, at forty five seconds. Slightly disappointing, considering he'd grown up with her, but she didn't really blame him.
"Maybe everyone jus' looks a bit smaller to me," Ryan said, matching his roommate's raised eyebrow. His eyes never wavered from the guy's, despite the fact that they seemed to be waiting for something. Was this some sort of test? If it was, it was a fucking stupid one.
"The fuck are you lookin' at, anyways?" he challenged, squinting his eyes. "Do I got somethin' in my teeth? Maybe a bit 'o food stuck in my teeth?"
"I'm lookin' at you 'cause you're lookin' at me." Thea stated, something like amusement flickering in her eyes for just a second. This guy sounded like he wanted to pick a fight. That could be fun for the first few days, but after a certain point, it might spell trouble. That's alright. You like trouble. Just be careful with it. "Why are you gettin' all defensive?"
"I don' like people lookin' at me, simple as that." The counter on the eye contact had reached a full minute at this point and showed no sign of stopping. "And if my memory isn't failin' me, you were looking at me as soon as you walked in."
"People have a tendency to look at things that stand out in a room. A person in a room does the trick." She said, shrugging a shoulder as she leaned against the bedframe. She was absolutely thrilled with the eye contact, and it was beginning to show in her eyes, just barely. "If you'd been a coat rack standing in the middle of the room, I'd look at ya."
"Then restrain yourself," he said, turning back to the closet door and slamming it loudly. "I got more than enough eyes lookin' at me on a daily basis. I don't need your's."
He walked back over to his bed and put the arm and toolbelt back into the bag, sliding it underneath the bed so it would be out of sight. The silence that immediately followed the exchange between the two was…awkward, to say the least. Maybe he was being a tad bit defensive, but he had been having a bad day.
"Ryan Fairfax," he grunted, turning to the small man and offering his left hand - the clockwork one. Time for a test of his own.
When the boy turned away, Thea did too. Unzipping her bag, which was laying on the bed where she'd set it, she pulled out the only super personal item she had put in her bag. A framed photograph of her and her brother. He had insisted on taking the photo, surprising her with it as a going away present. She set the photo down when the boy spoke again, turning to look at him, and then his hand. Interesting. Looks well put-together though.
Thea took the offered hand, shaking exactly twice before letting go. "Theodore Ramone. Most people call me Theo."
"Well, I ain' most people," he responded, pulling the arm back. It moved exactly like the thing it was modeled after. "So I'mma jus' call you Ramone."
Him, in contrast, had nothing with him that would tell someone of his previous life. Well, excluding the arm, but that would have been obvious he was missing an arm without it.
"Sister?" Ryan asked, gruffly, gesturing at the picture she had sat down.
She wrinkled her nose slightly, not at the use of her last name, but instead at the clocks on his arm. Well-put together or not, something about clocks weirded her out. "Then I guess I'm callin' you Fairfax." She picked the photo bag up, smiling down at it for a moment before setting it on the pillow so she could continue unpacking. "Yeah. Twin back home. She's the one who convinced me to come here."
Ryan glanced down at the wrist of his fake arm, where the watch he had inserted into it ticked away loyally. A full hour before the Duke of Illyria would present his speech. An hour that they weren't allowed to leave their rooms. Needless to say, this next hour was gonna suck.
"'Convinced'?" he repeated, looking over at Ramone. "You sound like you didn't wanna go."
"More I felt like I couldn't." Thea said with a shrug, continuing her unpacking. Wasn't there something that's supposed to happen later? Something important… "Y'know, responsibilities. She's my only family, too. We'd never been apart that long before, so I was worried. If somethin' happened to her while I was away…don't know how I'd live with that. She told me she'd be fine so many times she embroidered the words on a pillow." She pulled a miniature throw pillow out of her bag, holding it up to show him the words 'I'll be fine, stupid' embroidered on it.
Ryan squinted at the pillow, taking a moment to read it before huffing. It was a crack in his usually steely personality, a little bit of his true self that had slipped out for a second.
He saw nothing else to do, so he sat down on the bed, letting his arms rest in his lap. Ramone hadn't asked him about his past and he wasn't about to just share it. It just wasn't the way he worked.
Thea tossed her brother's pillow over by the one already given, shaking her head with a snort. The story she'd told was true, but switched around. Obviously. Her brother had embroidered the pillow to get her to shut up and stop worrying, waiting for the next time she went off on a rant about something happening to give it to her. Or rather, throw it. "So, what're you here for? Your area of expertise?"
"Mechanics," he said, raising up his prosthetic arm, something he figured would have made his expertise very obvious. "Clockwork, to be exact. Gears, levers, kinetic energy: that shit just came easy for me. You?"
((I always fucking forget that freckles exist how tf do i do that i HAVE them))
There was that nose wrinkle again, the freckles smattering her cheeks scrunching with the movement. Clocks. "Bombs." She said, pulling a pair of boots out of her bag and squinting at them, trying to discern whether or not they were her's. They could be Theo's…Is my eyesight getting worse? "Chemistry, technically, but bombs are my specialty. If it blows up, I can work with it. Pull it apart, build it, you name it."
"Bombs. First one I made blew up in my face. Dropped the fucker carrying it over to the testing site and it blew off my arm," he said, giving her a small tidbit of his past. Very small, but still him relinquishing a bit more of the shield he had up when they first met. "Haven't tried to make one since."
She paused, tilting her head as she looked over at him. "Huh. Guess that makes us one strange pair of roommates. Your thing with bombs, and I can't fucking stand clocks. They drive me nuts." She shook her head, dropping the boots and turning to fully face him, unpacking forgotten. "What did you build the bomb with? An' what was your explosive powder? I'm guessin' you had your starter in the bomb to set it off like that?" God, she really could talk about bombs all day.
"I used magnesium as an igniter, which was dumb as hell. Gunpower mixed with chili powder for the actual explosive material itself. Shit hurt like the dickens when the shock wore off." He rubbed his shoulder as he spoke, not even realizing his was doing it. "And what's wrong with clocks?"
"That's an interesting mix, for sure. But yeah, the magnesium was kind of stupid. If ya'd gone with something less volatile, you coulda packed one helluva punch on someone other than yourself." She said, hands twisting with each word. Signing out of habit. "Everything's wrong with clocks! They tick tick tick tick tick-" She paused, making a face like she'd forgotten her train of thought. "And it's obnoxious! Then my ears start ringing, and I'm not sure if that's from the ticking or not, but it happens, and it makes me want to scream. They look pretty, but I wish they didn't make so much noise."
"This arm don't make a peep," he said, shaking the fake one around for emphasis. "There are ways to make clocks not tick. It just takes a bit more effort than most people are willing to put in. If I can do it with one arm, I'm sure a competent clockmaker can do it with two. Do you have any skill with the mechanical side of science?"
She blinked once, then twice, then a third time, before squinting again as she thought. "Sure. I can make a clock shut up. With a hammer. And I'm good enough at building bombs. All they gotta do is carry the boom-powder-" How technical. "-and all's well. You're sure your arm doesn't tick?"
"I found a way," he said simply, putting his arm out in demonstration. Not a peep came from it. "Besides, this arm isn't just a clock. Just 'cause it has gears in it don't mean it works the same at the clock on the wall."
She shifted a few steps closer to study the arm without touching it. "Guess that makes sense. Different mechanisms, right? And functions. Gotta say though, I am incredibly glad it doesn't make the ticking."
