Cid Highwind (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cidhighwind) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2012-04-10 04:32 pm
cidhighwind) wrote in onepassingnight2012-04-10 04:32 pm
First Flight
The labyrinth is endless.
Twists and turns fill its hallways. The walls are made of metal and bent in strange places, as if someone had taken a hammer to them, in an effort to shape them into something different.
There are engine bits and pieces everywhere. Little piles make homes in corners while the bigger parts lean precariously against whatever is near. The ceiling is low, and the lighting is dim. There's a faint smell of oil in the air, not unpleasant but it gets stronger as one travels toward the middle of this strange place.
There Cid Highwind will be found, hunkered over the world's messiest worktable. Bits of scrap metal are scattered across the scratched wood, no discernible organization or order to be found.
He rummages through everything, throwing things to the side without looking up. He pauses a second to take the cigarette that had been dangling from his mouth, jamming it into the already overflowing ashtray before continuing on his mission.
Not that he knows what he's looking for, just that he's looking for something. Once he finds it, he'll know. Until then, he's digging through the pile of scrap in front of him, wondering if he should get an assistant.
Not Shera though. Damned woman insists he needs breaks, but who can think about taking a break when he has all this shit to do?
Twists and turns fill its hallways. The walls are made of metal and bent in strange places, as if someone had taken a hammer to them, in an effort to shape them into something different.
There are engine bits and pieces everywhere. Little piles make homes in corners while the bigger parts lean precariously against whatever is near. The ceiling is low, and the lighting is dim. There's a faint smell of oil in the air, not unpleasant but it gets stronger as one travels toward the middle of this strange place.
There Cid Highwind will be found, hunkered over the world's messiest worktable. Bits of scrap metal are scattered across the scratched wood, no discernible organization or order to be found.
He rummages through everything, throwing things to the side without looking up. He pauses a second to take the cigarette that had been dangling from his mouth, jamming it into the already overflowing ashtray before continuing on his mission.
Not that he knows what he's looking for, just that he's looking for something. Once he finds it, he'll know. Until then, he's digging through the pile of scrap in front of him, wondering if he should get an assistant.
Not Shera though. Damned woman insists he needs breaks, but who can think about taking a break when he has all this shit to do?