Editing Story:ROAD TRIP! (Warhammer High)/Part Five (section)

===The Workshop===


Venus was hard at work in the forge at that moment.  The rivulets of sweat down her bare back were testament to just how much time she had spent there that day.  She was in the same outfit she had been in while in the Hall of Deathfire; a simple metalworker’s apron over shorts.  The bottlecap had been stripped of its rubber component, and was melting in one tiny crucible, but she had spent the majority of her efforts that day on something else entirely.  The small metal bauble that was growing on the work surfaces in front of her at that moment was the centerpiece of an anklet, the slender metal lines beside them were a pair of stands for the slate she was loaning Jake until he had saved enough to buy it from her, and the little gold coil she was making at that moment was the beginning of a tiara she didn’t plan on wearing.

Farah saw forging as a means of expressing herself, certainly, and for passing time and working with her unusual abilities, and Hana liked it for the simple pleasure of making something, but for Venus and her family, there was a spiritual element to it that she doubted anything else could replace.  This was meditation, this was prayer, this was sacrifice and supplication, and she loved it.

A light from the other side of the room flickered as her father moved in front of it.  He was taking the opportunity to work with his beloved daughter, though he was making a Power Glaive and she was making the tiara, but the effort was well appreciated.  The beaming grin on her face when he bothered to look pleased him to no end.

A shadow fell over her forge as she slid her gloves on to lift the tiny mold the anklet bauble was in, and she glanced up to see her mother walking by to deposit a small platter of cookies on the table in the middle of the massive workshop.  Venus flicked sweat out of her eyes and nodded her thanks as Misja walked past.

Her mother had to raise her voice to be heard.  “Are you having fun?” she asked.

“Hell yeah,” Venus said.  “Can’t do this on a patrol ship.”

“Excellent.  Don’t forget to snack when you get the chance, you’ve been down here a while,” Misja said.

“Yep, thanks.”  Venus slid her goggles on and gingerly moved the mold, examining the cooling silver.  “Damn, it’s asymmetrical,” she muttered.  She grabbed one of her shaping tools and gingerly tapped at the metal, trying to reshape it.

Misja wandered over to where Vulkan was threading the power conduit down the haft of the weapon.  She stood beside her husband and watched him work for a moment.  “Kind of makes you proud, doesn’t it?” she asked quietly.

He flashed her a smile sidelong as he worked.  “Hah.  It does.  I wonder if there’s a metals shop on the Kouthry campus.  I’d hate to see her have to give it up for school.”

“Oh, I bet there is,” Misja said.  “I just hope it isn’t for majors only.”

“Mmm.”  Vulkan finished threading the cable and cinched it at one end.  “What is it?”

“Are you going to leave when she does?” Misja asked.

Vulkan looked at her again, his face blank.  “No.  Not at first.  Give it a few years.  I’ll make sure she has time to be sure about Kouthry being the right call.”

“Good,” Misja said.  She looked up at him, towering over her.  His physique, size, and utterly alien appearance hadn’t intimidated her much when they had met, given that he had been, from nearly the word ‘hello,’ the kindest soul she had ever seen, and now she barely noticed them.  However, the news that the Salamanders would be amongst those Legions participating in the Solar Expansion, still formally classified, had been an unpleasant reminder of his role.

“You won’t just leave, right?” she asked softly.

Vulkan turned his eyes to her again, hurt.  “Of course not.”

“Good.”  She looked down at the floor for a moment.  “Perhaps…perhaps Venus had the right idea.  I think I may go back to Prometheus for a time.  Just long enough to get the Residence ready and check in with No’dan.”

“Do you want to make the journey now?” Vulkan asked.

“No.  I think I’ll wait for a while, too.”  Misja gestured for his hand as he reached for the bolt cutters to slice the armored power cable at the spool.  “You know…I have to wonder.  Do you think Venus will ever join you and your brothers on the Expansion?”

This time, Vulkan’s gaze was one of complete denial.  “Absolutely not.  Misja, I am endlessly proud of her, but she is not a killer.  Her hands will sculpt wonders and guide the people, not soak with blood.”

“Is that your will, or hers?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said coldly.  “She will be a princess and a mother, I hope, but never…EVER a warrior.  I have not fought for so long, watched so many brothers die, so that innocent souls like hers could be drawn into the fires of war.  I fought to prevent that,” he said, squeezing the haft of the glaive.

“You fought so that people would not fight…or would have the option not to fight?” Misja asked.  “They’re not the same.”

Vulkan’s massive shoulders bunched as he fought his impatience down.  She was right.  “No.  No, they aren’t,” he said.  “But it would horrify me.  It would sadden me.  And even if she didn’t care about those things…I think she loves the civilian life too much to risk it in war.  I don’t have that luxury.”  He turned to regard his wife, his stance softening.  “I’m glad she does.”

Misja remained silent for a few more seconds, until Vulkan turned back to his weaponsmithing again.  “I suppose.”  She looked over to where their daughter was still working.  “I think she’d take to it.”

“Naturally.  Like she and the other Progenitors take to all tasks, given time.”  Vulkan grabbed a pair of wire cappers and gingerly snipped one errant feed cable.  “Have you asked her to give her own opinion?”

“No.”  Misja looked over the weapon her husband was crafting.  “What are you even making, here?”

“Just something I wish to present one of my battle-brothers from the Liberation of Seadelant task force who distinguished himself,” Vulkan said.  “Polearm users are rare in the Assault ranks, but he’s gifted.”

“Mmm.  Well, don’t go hungry,” she said, gesturing to the food she had brought down.

Vulkan smiled as he hefted the unfinished weapon and balanced it on one finger.  “You take good care of me, Misja.”

“Oh, I know,” Misja said drily.  She walked back to where Venus was now setting the tiara aside to cool.

“I don’t plan on joining the military at all, Mom, fear not,” Venus said without preamble, crouching to stare at the tiara at eye level on her work station.  “Blasted gem settings are so damn fragile…”


Misja closed her eyes for a moment, chastising herself for forgetting her daughter’s highly refined hearing.  “Okay, good.”  She placed her hands on her daughter’s bare shoulders as Venus rose to fix the tiara.  “Venus, sweetheart…I just can’t stomach the thought of losing you to the Emperor’s wars.  It’s hard enough knowing what Vulkan’s gone through.”

Venus relaxed and let her eyes slip shut as she felt the cool weights of her mother’s hands.  “I know, Mom.  Believe me, I know.  I may be able to put on the uniform and fire off a few rounds at the range, but I’m not a warrior.”  She reached up with one un-gloved hand to rest it over her mother’s.  “I like being able to choose.”

“All right.”  Misja let go and stepped back.  “What are you working on?”

“Just some stuff for Remilia and a thing for Jake’s slate that I loaned him,” Venus said.  “The crown’s just for kicks.”

“Why don’t you ever wear a bra when you’re working down here?” Misja asked, glancing at her daughter’s scarred back.  Aside from the ties at her neck and waist, there was nothing obscuring the view.

“Flammable underwear is never a good idea around an exposed element,” Venus chuckled.  “I’ve got something on under the boots and shorts, rest assured.”

Misja rolled her eyes as her daughter heated the crown back up.  “Good to know.”  She stepped back as Venus got back to work, and snagged a cookie for herself as she walked back to the stairs.