Stillwater bends over, strapping on her greaves, following with her breastplate and finally the bastard sword, shifting her shoulders to settle the blade on her back.
She cracks her neck. “Way, we’re heading out now.” Stillwater knows it’s better to state what they are doing rather than ask WayWocket to decide.
“Ah, Pure onto the Dawn and path is set, this will be the day of Blooded,” WayWocket sings out from the bedroom.
The drugs are in full effect now. Stillwater shakes her head in regret. “Well, come on, Way.”
Opening the door and stepping out into the street, another fair day in the middle of Builder—the last month of Spring—greets Stillwater. Looking over the rooftops towards the lake, a few clouds hang overhead. Might be a storm later today or tomorrow, Stillwater muses to herself.
They’re based not far from the Hall, just a fifteen-minute walk. WayWocket jogs up to Stillwater. “Off to the path, nothing but that. We will see the way to the metal gleam and perfection! With a drop of the truth in colour will be seen.”
“What are you…” Stillwater stops herself. No point asking. Just keep moving and don’t worry about Way’s random statements. “Have you set up your lab in the basement yet?”
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“Ah, yes. Drop Drip. Swish Splash. Ding-a-ling and fractured light. Found WayWocket’s solution to the metal problem.” WayWocket skips along next to Stillwater. “And done! Lab and mixture about to make magic!”
Stillwater rolls her eyes. “That’s good, Way. I hope it’s to your liking. One thing we didn’t think about when leaving the Watch, was your access to a lab for creating your elixirs. I am glad that you could create one in my basement.”
“Fine, be fine. Space here and there. Safe and nice, like a mother’s hug.”
“Good, Way.” She crosses the road after a wagon goes past. “Is there something I’m missing this morn, Way?”
“No, nope, nada, nothing.” WayWocket is still dancing to an unknown tune, skipping and jumping. “But it will bring the path!”
A few workmen are filling up the gaslights: one canister out, one in, pick up and load. The merriness of the clinking metal bottles distracts Stillwater for a short time, but the sound reminds her of something, a spark of memory, buried due to the extreme events of three weeks ago.
“Way, what is this about spoons?” Stillwater stops and looks at the dancing gnome.
“See, see the path. The clink and clank of the machine. Impure and lacking, stolen from under their noses. Colour of blue instead of blood-red. Crime hidden to our Trinity eyes. Need to find and bring to the Blue!”
If she didn’t know WayWocket well, these would be nonsensical words. “Ah yes, the spoons from the Count’s manor and Klaus hiring us to find out about them. Sorry, Way, for forgetting about that. Zlata’s betrayal of the Watch hit harder than I thought, otherwise I wouldn’t forget a job,” Stillwater muses. “Lucky we’re heading to the Hall anyway for our first official meeting of the Rejects.”