if you build it, they will come. hopefully.

[abyssum_invocat]

So. Replicators.

They take some getting used to for a child who's never come across technology even remotely similar before, but after a few wrong turns and a bit of confusion over how what it spat out at her was supposed to be decent clothing Sinthia got the hang of it. Enough, anyway, to order food and drink, and a modest bunch of parts to make something.

A something which, if the instructions are anything to go by--thankfully they're pictograms as well as words, in case the passersby like the mun don't read German--will be a quite pretty little mechanical tellurion.

She's totally interruptable while building this, yes. Periodically she needs breaks.

Comments

[decideformyself]

He doesn't react to her thanks. He's more interested in the tellurion itself. Paying no heed to common sense or personal space, he reaches out to pick it up.

[abyssum_invocat]

"No," she says, forcefully enough to have the smaller objects rattle on her table, reaching out and taking the semi-assembled toy back.

"It's not done, don't touch it. And it's mine," she says, eyeing Phillip.

[decideformyself]

His face falls, but he crosses his arms and takes a step back without objection. If it's not done, that's a good reason to leave it be for now.

"Are you interested in astronomy?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"Yes," she says softly. "I like looking at the stars, but I built it so I'd know what day it is in a format I'm familiar with." She can't really wrap her head around stardates.

[decideformyself]

"I see." The conversion is simple enough to him, but the old, familiar dates are much nicer on the eyes. "How clever. I would very much like to see it once you've finished."

[abyssum_invocat]

Oh, she can do the conversion. The math is simple, and she understands the need for it given multiple star systems in play. She just...can't really make herself use the new calendar without a little more panic than she wants to deal with.

"When it's done I'll bring it to you," she says. "So you can see." Blue-flecked brown eyes flick between Philip and the wooden gears she's still sanding down for ease of interlocking. "You could watch if you wanted to."

[decideformyself]

Philip's eyes visibly light up at that offer. He takes the invitation, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from Sinthia. "I believe I will."

He's eerily quiet, though, just keeping his eyes on her hands as she works.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Alright," she says. "Just don't touch anything."

[decideformyself]

He literally sits on his hands to prevent himself from giving into the temptation.

[abyssum_invocat]

The motion makes her laugh as she glues a wooden spacer onto one of the gears, letting the glue set for a moment.

"Do you fidget like that often?"

[decideformyself]

Philip frowns in a very petulant, childish way. "I don't know what you're talking about."

[abyssum_invocat]

"You're sitting on your hands," she says, as if to remind an exceptionally petulant child. "Do you fidget with them if you don't?"

[decideformyself]

"Should you not be focusing your attention on your project?" he retorts plainly. But he moves his hands to his lap.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Do you think I'm going to build it wrong?" she replies, voice taking on the characteristically dry quality her father impresses on his, though Philip wouldn't recognize it.

[decideformyself]

"No. I just want to see the completed project as soon as possible." And all these questions are interfering with that goal.

[abyssum_invocat]

"If you want one already done go get your own," she says, defensive of her work--which is meticulous and careful, and precise. She wants it to be as accurate as possible, given the constraints on size it already has.

[decideformyself]

"There is some merit in watching the process," he admits.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Then watch me do it my way," she says calmly, adding pieces together and affixing them to their proper spots.

[decideformyself]

Philip sits calmly. He literally twiddles his thumbs to give his hands something to do, but manages not to interrupt. It might seem kind of eerie just how quiet and observant he's being, but he's easily pleased by getting to see his newest interest in action.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia glances at Philip while she finishes building the toy, and once it's done--not painted, but completed--she pushes it to the center of the table, slowly cranking it to make the planets move.

"Don't touch it, but you can crank it."

[decideformyself]

He's tempted to ask how he's supposed to crank it without touching it, but he manages to hold back, only raising an eyebrow in response.

He reaches out with one hand, slowly turning the crank and grinning as it moves. "Incredible..."

[abyssum_invocat]

"It is," she says with a small smile, watching the planetary motion and noting the teeth she still needs to sand down a little more.

[decideformyself]

"And yet so deceptively simple." He cocks his head to get a look from another angle. "I must thank you for allowing me to see it in action."

[abyssum_invocat]

"I'm keeping it in my room if you want to see it again," she says, watching it turn as he cranks it. "Whenever you want. I don't have a roommate."

[decideformyself]

"Which room?" he inquires.