7th of Searing, Year 125 of Steel
Tavárinoikos, Silfanore
Tavárinoikos, Silfanore
As good as his word, Sivan had sent appropriate updates to the princess at Eilranoikos and made replies where necessary. The day had finally come for an actual demonstration of his progress.
The princess was led to the same room. It was impeccably clean; he had stopped tinkering in order to clean the workshop so everything looked tidy and professional. It was rare that he got so caught up in a process that his workspace became a mess, but it had been known to happen when he started chasing an idea that wouldn't hold still long enough for him to put to paper, at least.
On the table were sample swatches of various materials from Kinryn Len'Aldris' workshop. Most were for future projects that they had discussed, but there were also light and strong gossamer fabrics that he was considering for the firebird automaton. The thing would be able to fly without them, but they could be added if she wanted to dress it up as some highborn ladies did with their pets. He didn't think the spirit would mind, really.
Several fire sprites were fluttering about above the table where delicate bits of clockwork were laid out for her to see. The chassis of the thing was constructed so she could see the general shape it would take, and there was at least one wing that could already articulate its fine metal feathers, each etched with the patterns real feathers bore.
He had already let the spirits try inhabiting parts of his creation to get a sense for it. Some were curious and game to try; some others had already been dismissed when the metal structures felt confining or in any other way wrong to them. The few gathered were having fun with it so far, and so he thought it safe to introduce them to her. If Akantha bonded with one, he could spend more time teaching it and it would likely have more mind than it did now by the time he had completed the automaton.
One of the sprites seemed to be focusing on the chassis, flickering in the shape of the metallic skeleton almost like a match lit to a trail of smokeless powder seeking an explosion. Another was floating around with the shape of a bird's wing, though it wasn't flapping, just trying it on for size. Another, quieter, landed on Sivan's shoulder. The young maker smiled softly to it, then pursed his lips and carefully whistled something quite akin to bird song.

