The door to Artman's workshop was locked, but that didn't matter to the figure standing before it. The sound of breaking glass the, chalk on the wood, scampering feet running away as unseen defenses triggered and sent them running. The only thing left behind was a spilt jar of turpentine, a ring, and note scrawled in chalk on the door.

"We know You." It reads ominously, "The Black Library knows All." The only other words that follow the message, etched there like burn marks, drawn with charcoal or black chalk. the broken jar perhaps meant as a firebomb, left discarded and its contents soaking into the door.

Maven gasped as she saw it, but, straightening herself, she knocked on the workshop door anyways, pounding it so she wouldn't be ignored. When it finally opened, Artman greeted her with bleary eyes and red face of someone not accustomed to being rudely woken.

"Wha-Who?" he blurted out before seeing who it was, his tired face smiling "Oh, Maven come in." taking a sniff at the afternoon air "What is that smell?" Maven forced her way in with a slight huff. "Perhaps you spilled something in your workshop again, Artman," She declaredly and nonchalantly spoke, brushing past him with a large basket.

"Have you been trying to cook with your machines again? or is this one of your starving artist moments?" She asked, her load down on the work bench. Opening the top and letting out the trapped smell of fresh bread, fruit and cheeses. "Well, aren't you going to help?" She smiled to him, flashing those same teasing eyes that always seemed to befuddle and dumbfound the poor magician.

"Maven, ugh, what time is it?" Artmna asked, rubbing his face in shock, disbelief, or perhaps still chasing away those lingering shades of slumber that he'd apparently been lost in when she came.

Maven stifled a laugh "Time for you to buy a watch silly man, Or you'd know what time it was." She pulled a small rope of sausages from the basket "Its the Fourth day, and half past noon, If you must know." she said curtly, pausing for a moment "I've, been away, taking care of things." Brushing back a bit of her hair, finger tips gingerly passing the spot of her recent, exorcism. "It- its over now, and I'm hear once again. Feeling much better and very worried about you- now, where did I put those silly little pears?"

Artman reached out to touch her elbow, and felt her trembling beneath his hands. Seized by her estate he wrapped his arms around her gently, feeling her stiffen, the melt in his tired arms. "Maven," he whispered "stop now." ITs at this that Maven feels herself start to sink into him, before a fire jab forces her to push him away.

"What's Wrong?!" he asks, but even to his dim senses, he can feel something ugly wriggling under her skin, some blemish that's over come her. Grabbing a stool he bids he guest to sit and rest as her legs begin to shiver and bend.

"God," she whimpers "I can't even get this little thing right?" she mutters, tears forming on her face, Artman kneeling beside her. "What wrong Maven? What's happened? You look so pale, fragile, you've never been like this." He pleads "Tell me, what can I do to help."

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Maven gives him a sad, but warm smile as she pulls a handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe her face "It's nothing Artman,I swear it'll all be fine." clearing her throat as she makes her self sit up straight "Now, tell me, how's the Wooden Man? ready for his dance lessons?" She asks, trying to sound strong "I didn't bring this basket lunch out here just to see my best chance at wealth die of starvation you know." Standing up and brushing her dress down, "Well, how about it? Tell me you've been making progress now. I - I need some good news today."

"Well, then I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place." as he points to a loose pile of charred wooden limbs in a metal bin "The Wooden Man is no more." He sighs, throwing himself onto the bench beside Maven, totally forlorn as the despair leaks out of him and covers the room like a veil.

"What happened?" Maven asks, quietly, like how one whispers in a grave yard when seeing a fresh plot. Artman replies, each word draining his spirit as it leaves him. "The resistance was too high, in trying to cut out the interference, I instead set a fire trap. the new Wooden Man, burst into flames and the reagents meant nothing could be done until it was over. My work, is, destroyed. And I'm, I'm sure to blame."

His head sinks lower as he fidgets with his hands, picking at the scabs and scars of his clumsy mistakes. "I- I'm not sure I can do it. Maybe it was for naught, I'm just destined for it I guess. Just like in Long Field, and Dustings, and all the other place I couldn't make myself into something." He's holding back a flood of emotions, the room seems colder as his mind dims with the clouds of melancholy. Maven rests a hand on his shoulders gingerly, before shifting to embrace him fully. "Oh Artie" she cries softly "Don't ever let me catch you saying that ever again!" she scolds him.

"Wha-" he stammers under the sting of her words, "Shush, silly man." she chides "You should know better than to let yourself get this way. It didn't work, Fine, so build another one. Like you always do, fix the problem like you men so love to do, dazzle me with that brilliant jewel of a mind you have. And for God's Sake, Eat something." She continues, lavishing these scolding's on him like a mother treats a foolish child. Then sitting straight she turns his face towards hers and tries her best to look resilient and rational. "Now, what were you going to say about Wooden Man? Something Good, because I've had too much of a terrible week to be putting up with your troubles as well."

Artman stares at her in amazement, and then shakes himself, laughing as the sun returns to his face and the room warms. "Alright Maven, you win. But this will make a pauper of me, In fact I think I might be the first magician to see the inside of a debtors prison." He grumbles, standing to stretch himself. "But I may have a few ideas on how to improve this little project..." He says wistfully "I'll need more silver ink, no, Wire, and the sapphire's, we might be able to get away with mere carbuncle's or some lesser gems." As he starts to mutter about his plans, Maven has to catch him by the arm.

"Wonderful, now, can we discuss this over lunch?" she presses, gesturing to spread laid out on his work table. "And if I am to stay on as you assistant and model, Can we skip those horrid pins? I looked diseased afterwards, covered in awful little red spots." she grimaces and shudders "I hate just thinking about them." Artman gives a soft chuckle "I can't promise that, but, I'm sure I can find someway to pay you? Maybe a lager cut?"

Maven gives him a genuine smile at the sound of more money to come "Oh, that sounds brilliant, but first" She pauses "You need to eat something. You look terrible." passing him a ripe pear "and don't worry about me, I'll be fine so long as you pay through." she lied. Even as Artman seemed to be getting better, she couldn't help but glance at the bin, where the charred ruined remains of the prior project lay in a charcoal heap, a hard swallow forced these fears down, but the after taste of them lingered as she encouraged Artman to explain his new plans for their projects future.