Community Service [Char/Moshi:Closed]

[EriChar]

This island only ever feels colder… Trudging her way through the snow, the shipwright extraordinaire known as Tsun Dehre found that despite the several days now that she had been staying on Ice Nine, she had made no progress in adapting to its abhorrently cold weather. Wrapped up as warmly as she could with what clothes she kept to travel, only Tsun’s eyes were visible of her body, peeking out from the small gap between a woolly, pompom possessing hat and a tightly bound scarf. A thick and slightly worn borrowed coat wrapped much of her form, from underneath the wound scarf and down over the down of warm looking furred boots, which also happened to have been borrowed. Tsun was a small girl for her age, who looked two or three years younger than the sixteen cycles of seasons that had occurred since her birth, and because of this, the large coat which was meant to be worn by your average-sized adult swamped her form. With gloved hands hidden by comically long sleeves, she stomped her way along the permanently frosted set of streets and roads which separated the small inn she had finally found a room in from the harbour, hoping that today would finally be the day that the ships were approved for departure again.

It had been about a week or so since Miss Dehre had arrived on the island, and even then it had never been her intent to stop off her; having made a miscalculation in her sleeping schedule that forced her to nap through the entirety of her chosen stop, and was forced to depart instead at the following ‘station’. Although the ferries in the area usually ran around every few days, a week at the most, to Tsun’s misfortune she found that her arrival had narrowly preceded an unseasonable bout of chill, which had made the waters around Ice Nine too dangerous for small ships to travel through. Stray ice and freezing waters made for lethal mistakes should a foolish captain try to brave them, and so, short of using one of the large, strong battleships that the Marines maintain, to force their way through the ice, people were stuck for the time being on Ice Nine.
And so, stuck on an island not entirely of her choosing, the mechanic was left to her own devices for several days, with little to do other than eat, sleep and amuse herself; which she was not always the best at. And so, a few days later, having had more than enough time to dismantle her beloved ‘Pocchan’ and rebuild him as the upgraded ‘Pocchan Mk II’, she now found herself craving activity, and desperate to leave an island where the idea of advanced technology was a spool-based fishing line.

Finally, after taking far too many steps in the inhospitable outdoors of Ice Nine, Tsun finally reached the harbour, and before her saw the grand sight of… An empty dock.
Damnit, are these pansies ever gonna grow a pair and take a ship out? Tsun was largely annoyed at the helplessness of her situation, which was exacerbated by the fact that with proper supplies, by now she probably could have built her own damn Ice Breaker and been free of these dreary days in the mind numbingly plain landscape of snow.

“Sorry, Tsun-chan, it seems the ferry captain still fears the ice our waters…” Tsun felt a little start at the noisy interruption to her thought process, and was a little irritated both of being referred to with such an infantile honorific as well as being informed of facts which were already apparent.
Snapping her head around with a slight frown, Tsun saw that the intruding voice belonged to the old man who had let her stay in his front room for a night on the day she had arrived, since all of the inn’s had been full.

“Y-Yeah, bit of a problem…” Tsun was the type of girl who some might consider shy, and others might consider aloof; she didn’t tend to place a great deal of interest in developing connections with people, and didn’t really have a vast amount of skills needed to do this anyway. An intelligent girl who could effortlessly map out the complicated make-up of a miniaturized steam engine in her head, Miss Tsun Dehre hadn’t ever developed a strong level of ability and understanding pertaining to social situations, and perhaps at times this could be considered a fatal flaw. It wasn’t entirely a sense of familiarity that stopped Tsun from expressing her distaste for the related remark, nor was it a sense of kindness; to some extent, it was simply easier to ignore it and let it wash away within thoughts of other, more interesting subjects. One of these in particular would have been of great assistance to the young Miss Dehre in her current situation, and this was the topic of work.
While socially inept, Tsun was incredibly industrious, and was so highly interested in keeping herself busy that it was often the case that her absentminded mistakes came from her being a little too focused in what she was doing. In fact, the current situation that the small shipwright found herself in was actually due to her working too busily while on route to her homeland, and the accumulated tiredness from this activity being the source of the long nap that had made the girl miss her ‘exit’.
And now, in complete reverse, this young woman found herself with plenty of time and energy, and yet nothing to spend it on. Tsun Dehre needed a project.

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

"Next on the docket:, Case D0381: The World Government v Wrongdoer."

He heard the crack of a gavel, and a man in white escorted him through the court doors, and onto a small platform directly in front of the judge's podium. It seemed designed for someone a good bit older and taller than Weiss. It wasn't anything particularly fancy, just one of the side courtrooms they used when the main ones were already occupied. In truth, he was surprised they were going through a trial at all. The Judge himself was a gnarled fellow, adorned in black robes and a powdered white wig. The sheer prominence of the man's nose astounded him. There was no way he could even see past that thing.

The boy's thoughts on the matter were quite rudely interrupted when he was tossed in front of the very fellow whose proboscis he had been considering, who made a show of banging his undersized wooden hammer a few more times and call the room to order, despite the fact that the three of them were the only occupants.

"Now. According to this," pausing a moment, the man carefully removed a pair of comically small glasses, pushing them into place, "the accused is charged with stowing away on a marine vessel." Weiss cringed. Admittedly, that not the most brilliant of stratagems for him to have chosen. But his options had been pretty limited at the time.

"While onboard, he engaged in petty larceny, criminal mischief, and the harassment of of government officials." One of those words stung him like an open-handed slap. Petty? The Marine had been showing off a golden Casia Royale watch, worth 100k on the open market, more to the right buyers. It was definitely something above the sailor's pay grade, and had probably been stolen in the first place, so he didn't feel particularly bad about nabbing it. Or about Deadbolt Locking every door in the crew quarters in the middle of the night so they had to start busting down walls to get out. The thought of a bunch of the Navy thugs in their jammies trying to bang a door down forced the boy to stifle a laugh. He was pretty sure they still hadn't figured that one out.

When he realized all eyes were focused on him, he straightened. Now was not the time for childishness. He would be all business.

Passing the list closer to his face, the Judge read further down, murmuring each word under his breath as he went. "These infractions have been witnessed and signed by a commissioned officer and as such, the defendant is assumed guilty."

Weiss raised an eyebrow at that. Sure, he was guilty, but he thought he would at least have the chance to try and look innocent. "Wait, I don't even get a chance to-"

"Order! I will have no outbursts in my court."[/color] Red-faced and steaming like a kettle brought to boil, the arbiter made a show of slamming his gavel onto the wooden block several more times than were necessary. When he felt he had fulfilled his self-imposed quota for banging, he took a deep breath, the blood leaving his cheeks. Apparently this guy was very emotion about his job. "Now then. The court hereby recommends immediate punishment, in accordance with the local laws, and those of the World Government. Does the Marine representative have any objections?"

The burly man in white that had dragged him in shook his head. "None, your honor."

"Do any other parties present object?"

The sticky-fingered boy very nearly presented his dissatisfaction with the current arrangement, but the adult's mutual glare persuaded him to hold his tongue.

"Very well then. In light of of the recent Pirate attacks, I am invoking Article 14 of this island's Declaration of Powers. The guilty is sentenced..."

Sighing to himself, Weiss resigned himself fate. After all, this wasn't so bad. It just meant he was gonna get stuck in some nearby jail. And given the state of Ice Nine's infrastructure right now, he doubted security would be anything more than minimal. He figured he could probably be in and out in time for supper.

"...to thirty days of community service."

Wait, what?

The further he continued his decree, the more Weiss hopes sunk. "He will be assigned a keeper with whom he must check in daily. Every ship in port will be given strict orders not to give you passage off the island once the ice recedes, until such a date comes that you complete your service."

But... they can't do that. That's stupid! He didn't wanna have to go pick up people's trash! And blocking him from the ports, isn't that a bit excessive?

Carefully, the Judge removed his glasses again, and placed them back in their case. Then, with the bang of his gavel, and a tone marked by nothing but finality, he brought the case to an end. "Justice has been served. You are dismissed."

"That's not fair!" Weiss declared, attempting to move. A strong hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragging him back out of the courtroom. "Nooooo!"

-----------

An hour later, he was being escorted to meet with one of the civilian contractors who were in charge of the city's rebuilding efforts, so he could be given his first task. He had been given a white parka with the words MARINE written on the back, a kindness he accepted grudgingly. On one hand, he did not particularly want to wear something that associated him with the strong-arm branch of the World Government, but on the other, it was the case that the coat he had brought with him was woefully insufficient for the aptly named "Ice Nine". So, he dealt with the Navy branding; content with the knowledge that he would not be freezing solid in the near future. Still, acquiring a larger buffer between his skin and the island's chilled winds was definitely a priority. Then, perhaps he could figure a way out of this mess.

"Looks like we'll be stuck here a bit longer, little buddy." Weiss muttered. [/size]

[EriChar]

“I shouldn’t be lingering in the cold. Goodbye.” It was perhaps something of an abrupt end to the short conversation that Tsun Dehre had with her aged acquaintance, her trademark lack of conversational skill meaning that her departure was announced in a manner almost as cold as the weather that drove her away. And so, with her rather sudden withdrawal, the small girl who liked to build boats and tinker with machinery made further footsteps in the snow as her furry boots moved back in the direction of the inn.

This is entirely too much idle time… Tsun was the kind of girl who would relish more having too much to do, rather than too little, and being stranded on an island with little in the way of interesting machinery, or even uninteresting machinery, she was at something of a loss as to a task with which she could ‘amuse’ herself currently. The girl mind constantly looking for a new puzzle to occupy itself with, and despite having taken some time to fit the odd enhancements to her ‘little puppy’, she now wished that she had also brought along something else to occupy her idle hands and cerebral attention. Anything would have done really; maybe some kind of device that could use a smaller version of the steam engines used to the propulsion of Marine ships and the ‘Puffing Tom’ sea train, to propel a smaller sort of craft which could be used by in individuals or small groups. With the right modifications, one could probably design something of the sort which could be adapted to run both the surface of the water and upon land, meaning that it’s owner could traverse terrain as they saw fit, and it would be small enough to slip through ice floes, meaning the occupant would be able to endure through almost any sort of conditions.
Especially cold weather… It would certainly be ideal to have this versatile piece of kit be something of a contained environment, perhaps with the option to vent the excess steam from its engine around small, heat generating pipes to achieve an optimum internal environment.

Mentally designing this personal travelling craft, or ‘Pertracraft’ as Tsun had decided to name it for the time being, the young girl continued to hear her footsteps making the somewhat satisfying ‘crunch’ when she stepped on the snow that covered the landscape. Despite taking a path virtually identical to the one she had followed to come to the dock, the perpetual snowfall of Ice Nine had quickly covered the small steps which the currently absent minded girl had made a trail of on her way to the harbour, and given the slow speed with which Tsun was moving due to her attention being focused internally, only a few steps over a dozen behind her remained clearly defined. Of course, with her head in the cloud, or more accurately in the steam design, this girl was oblivious to the fact that the printed path she had left was quickly being swallowed up by fall of frozen flakes.

On her ‘autopilot’, Tsun barely registered the scenery around her, ignoring the sight of burned and broken building work, around which was gathered a group of large and imposing men, all scratching their head and holding beams and boards of wood. Perhaps her absentmindedness had continually blinded her to a rather obvious output for her attention; the damaged town in which she was currently residing, the victim of cruel pirate attacks a little too close in succession. This ordinarily was no big thing for the island, as usually there was at least one good carpenter on the island who could have directed the efforts of the townspeople in rebuilding, but this time that presence was to most people, noticeable by its absence. Tragically, the town’s usual carpenter and his family had been struck by tragedy during the attack; the head of the household losing his life in a sorrowful attempt to protect his family, and his heir being a mere apprentice who was crippled both by grief and lacking experience. The town of Ice Nine sorely needed someone who could, at the very least, show their willing body of volunteers how to return the town to some semblance of normality, but with one young carpenter lost in woe and doubt, and the only other person capable currently too busy daydreaming to help, her restoration would for the time being have to wait.

Largely oblivious to the level of ruin in the town, Tsun Dehre returned to the inn which had housed her with her head still very much full of ideas for machines to solve her current ill-fortune, as well as regret and irritation that she lacked the means to produce any of these currently. Stepping her way through the entrance to the Inn in almost a dazed state, Tsun blankly moved along her way, ignoring almost all of the efforts of her innkeeper to grasp the girl’s attention. It was only after the greying fellow had practically dove from his counter like a skyward goalkeeper and passed in front of Miss Dehre, did she finally pay him heed.

“M-Miss, I’m afraid that there is a little bad news regarding your stay with us…” Having pulled himself back up to his feet, the keeper of her hotel had the unfortunate duty of relaying sour information to Tsun, who hadn’t been the most receptive of customers. The inn, like the town, was itself in something of a bad state, with Tsun as its only current guest. This wasn’t to say that the inn was empty, in fact every bed in it was full, and the news that the innkeeper had to give was that hers was now ‘double-booked’.
“Unfortunately, one of our town’s builders has come down with a bad case of frostbite, and we have had to offer your room to him…”

Irritating. I already had to sleep on a strangers bed for a night when I arrived because all the island’s inn’s were full of ill and invalided… This was not good news for Tsun, who quickly reflected on her stay on Ice Nine, and found herself to be further irritated by this current act of imposition upon her.
“Shouldn’t a large island like this have a hospital for people like that?!” Tsun Dehre’s voice was usually quite quiet and calm, but with the recent turn of events, there was a slight exasperation in what she squeaked out. With good reason as well, at least for Tsun, since it was completely absurd to have sick people staying in something that wasn’t a medical establishment.

“Ah, I’m afraid that our island’s clinic was regrettably ruined in a recent raid by ruffians…”

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

Weiss learned a great deal as he made his trek through the city, held tightly by the figurative leash of his Marine escort. The first was the true extent of the damage Ice Nine had received in the past weeks. Houses seemed to have been the hardest hit; whole neighborhoods had been flayed by voracious flames, and only their wooden skeletons remained. The charred earth had been since covered by a blanket of powdered white, hiding away the smoldering scars under an illusion of peace. But no amount of snow could conceal the mass of tents that were littered across all the city's open spaces, all people who had been forced from their homes by the destruction, now just doing their best to stay warm next to their meager fire. The sight itself was daunting enough, but what truly disturbed him was the people's eyes. Cold. Not a lack of emotion, rather, the look of someone who had lost their measure of inner radiance. It was a hopelessness Weiss had only encountered only once or twice in his brief existence. Perhaps one day it would stop unnerving him so much.

The second thing he learned was, comparatively, far less significant, but a harsh lesson nonetheless. Walking on top of ice was freaking hard. Concealed just underneath the seemingly innocuous coating of fluff lay an insidious insurgent, slicker than travelling across hardwood floors in socks, and far more painful to crack your head against. More times than the boy would like to admit, he did not realize his step had gone awry until he was already head-under-heels. The trip earned him a few bruises, as well as the amusement of the man leading him. Laugh it up while you can, chuckles. His vengeance would be swift! Soon as he could master navigating these frozen pathways...

Oh, and lastly? Earmuffs. It seemed the only times his ears ever seemed interested in feeding him sensations is when they were sunburnt or freezing. If he didn't enjoy his sense of hearing, he'd rid himself of the painful little buggers altogether.

"We're here." The watchdog declared. Snapped free of his reverie, Weiss found himself placed in front of a large four-story building, each tier successively larger than the one below it in a rough sort of reverse pyramid. It was actually somewhat impressive, compared to what he had encountered along the way there. "The man in charge of the reconstruction project is inside. You are to report to him regularly. Treat his orders as if they came from the Judge himself. He has the authority to send you back into custody should you prove yourself a nuisance."

"Whatever, whatever, I got it." Weiss said with a cool nonchalance, waving the man away dismissively.

"I was ordered to see you straight to the desk."

He did not respond, but the sour look on the diminutive criminal's face carried over his opinion on the matter just as clearly as a shout. Instead, he decided to press on, pressing open the large oaken doors with just a smidgen of anticipation. After all, a structure that possessed as odd an exterior as this would surely posses a similarly outlandish interior. And as he passed through the entrance, he quickly found that his prediction was to be. Well, accurate, if only in the literal sense.

The building was just a series of frame and beams. Literally, that is all there was to it. Turning back around, he saw that the front of the building that had initially impressed him was literally all that had been constructed. It... it didn't make any sense. His knowledge of construction was limited to the passages of books, but it truly did not take a veteran architect to know that such practices were a terrible idea.

As striking as this newly-discovered oddity was to Weiss, the other worker bees of this particular hive seemed rather oblivious to the fact their current base of operation was likely to collapse under the stress of its own misallocated weight at any moment. About they went, carrying planks of wood, and boxes of nails every which way. In fact, closer observation revealed their destinations to be erratic. Aimless, even. One person would set down an item in one place, only to be snatched up and taken back to its origin by another. He'd seen more orderly riots than this. Who the heck was managing this lot?

Stumbling through the crowd, his white coated antagonist led him to a large office in the center of the complex. Or at least, what he assumed to be an office. There was a desk littered with papers and ink, several chairs, a small candy bowl and what appeared to be a plastic fern in the corner. The only problem was, like the rest of the building, it had no walls or ceiling. Just a door, standing straight up from the floor. The workers treated the office as if it possessed some invisible barrier, moving around it rather than cutting straight through despite the shorter distance.

Seated at that desk was a boy. No, that's not quite fair. Weiss was a boy. But this fellow was young, maybe in his late teens, though rounded babyface cheeks made him appear much younger than that. It was clear from his broad shoulders calloused hands that he was a worker, but he seemed uncomfortable giving people orders. Even more so when he turned back to the ocean of paperwork that had consumed his workstation. From the way his eyes were darting back and forth, it almost seemed like he was pondering just making a run for it. Not exactly the signs of an experienced build leader. An apprentice, perhaps?

"Bappou?"

The fellow jerked up as if someone had run a current through him, looking up, first at the Marine, and then at Weiss. "Um. Y-yes?"

He couldn't help but stare back incredulously. This was the guy he was going to be working for?

[EriChar]

“Hmmmm…” Tsun Dehre had elected to again brave the bitter climate of Ice Nine and now, having followed a simple map that her innkeeper had given her, found that she was standing in front of the town’s clinic, or what was left of it.
That’s a bit of a mess… Looking up at the charred remains of the building’s roof, Tsun found it a bit more understandable now why she had been turfed out of her room at the inn; nobody was going to get any better in a clinic where you had blizzards falling on your head night and day. The little shipwright’s intention in coming to this place was to see the damage with her own eyes, to see which parts were broken and which weren’t, so she knew what she would need to repair it. Her reason for doing this, well, it would have been nice to say that Tsun Dehre was doing this out of the kindness in her heart, but that wasn’t the truth; she had two reasons she wanted to get the clinic running again, and neither of them particularly noble. Firstly, if the clinic was fixed, then she’d have a nice, comfortable inn to contain her, without masses of people to bother her while she waited to escape the island. In addition to this, it was also something relatively mind-consuming to undertake, and a part of the girl was happy to take on the task because it would give her something to do other than walking backwards and forwards between the hotel and the harbour.

With a sigh, the girl stepped forwards, towards the door of the burnt out building, and placed her hand on the grip to open it. The handle turned stiffly, obviously something that was in need of more ‘love’ than it ordinarily received, but with a little bit of effort it finally seemed to rotate all the way to open the door. It was after the door’s lock was released, that another element of the damage revealed itself, and rather than swinging out to open, the door fell downwards. With a slight squeak of surprise, Tsun Dehre dodged backwards, and got a face full of snow as the door planted itself flat on the thick fall in front of it.

“Hey, what’re yeh doin’ over there?”
Wiping the snow from her face with the back of one of the long sleeves from the borrowed coat, it appeared to Tsun that her action had caused a slight commotion further down the street. Stamping towards her was a displeased man, dressed in thick clothes but with a bright, almost glowing, silver star on his left breast; a lawman.
“I said, girly, what business d’yer have messin’ with burned out buildin’s?”
As he drew closer, Tsun’s attention shifted from the shining metal on his chest, and she now surveyed the status of the man questioning her so firmly, and found what she saw slightly reminiscent. This fellow was an older man, on a good day wearing a white moustache, but on a day like today, it was accompanied by the scattered snowfall of a lacking shave. He had a large nose, long and slightly curved down, like a beak that divided the man’s lip-hamster. This man, around his eyes he had more than one crow’s set of feet, and a dark bagginess that suggested that his night’s sleep had been shortened for several days before.
The reminiscence that Tsun drew from the image before her did not really lay with the man himself, since he was someone who this her first meeting with, but rather the inspiration of the recollection came from someone whom the girl had lost the company of more than two years previously. Stomping and stamping his way up to her, bellowing questions and demands, the man’s countenance pushed the girl to remember her grandfather, who would similarly take this action when he saw his shipwrights slacking in their duty. There was just that certain something about this man that made Tsun see her departed grandfather, and because of this, a rare smile gave a slight curl to lips of Tsun Dehre, who usually remained so stoic.

“What are yeh, hard of hearin’?”
The man had stomped sufficiently far enough to come to a halt in front of Tsun, jamming his hands on top of his hips and leaning forward slightly to look at her largely obscured face.

“I’m a engineer, and I came to fix this broken clinic…” The small smile which the sight of the stomping old man had bestowed upon Tsun Dehre vanished as she spoke, and after informing him of her task, she turned from him in order to better concentrate on the job at hand.

“A little girl like you says she’s a mechanic?”
Tsun Dehre was not unaccustomed to this attitude, which was usually given to her by anyone unfamiliar with her skills; people figured mechanics and shipwrights to be big, burly men who could lug around beams and girders, not underdeveloped teenage girls who squeaked and hopped away from falling doors. However, this impression of her being lacking in ability would prove to be false in a short period of time, and having been raised as an engineer since she was six, she had the skill to make that a very short time indeed.
“A first class one…” Miss Dehre continued to largely ignore the old man who questioned her, instead narrowing her eyes and lifting out a pencil and pad from her pocket…

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

Their introductions were cut short by a sudden commotion from across the camp. A figure cut through the crowd swiftly, a string of heavy pants and impassioned curses following in their wake. Making their way to the foreman's "office", the ranting figure stopped short of crossing the non-existent walls and, with a labored sigh, made their way to the door.

"Bappou! Stop putting me off!" Shouted a burly-looking woman, as she shoved her way in past the marine. "You told us to repair the damage to the wall, but you still haven't given us the materials we need to actually do it! I can't build something out of nothing here!"

"Agh!" The baby-faced builder visibly cringed at the sound of the worker's voice, moving as if to hide under his desk. Swallowing nervously, he attempted to address her, albeit in a much softer voice.

"I'm s-sorry Cai! W-we can't get any shipments right now because of the ice. What he have right now has to be rationed out according to priority."

"And so far, no one has been able to agree on which aspect of repairs is the most important."

A second woman intruded, who had somehow managed to slip on a doctor's coat over her heavy jacket. "Arin, from the clinic. We are still missing a roof. We have injured people getting hypothermia inside the hospital because we can't keep it warm enough, not to mention the condition of the medical equipment due to the snow."

"I know, I know. But there is no-"

"There is still the issue of people who have lost their homes to the flames." A man's voice said sternly. The collective eyes turned towards the source, a fellow positioned just outside the boundaries of the office.

The group's collective stare shifted to the grizzled fellow, but said nothing. It took a few moments of awkward silence before Bappou would address him. "We can't hear you, Dorn."

He raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "..What?"

Shrinking down in his chair under the sudden public scrutiny, it was all the young man could do to sputter out the his next few wouds. "W-well. You're behind a wall."

"But... there isn't..." Dorn began to object to the ridiculousness of the situation, but his boss's blank stare informed him of the fruitlessness of his endeavor. So, with a grumble of dissent, he moved to join them. "Guh..."

His message came in a rather robotic manner, the urgency of his words spoiled by the ridiculousness he had to perserve to deliver it. "Aid is being dispensed, but they can't begin to rebuild their homes until we clear out the rubble. You need to put men on clean up duty right away."

"We don't have the manpower to c-commit to rural restoration right now."

Unable to restrain herself, the first worker balked at her superior's flippant denial. "Yes we do!"

Similarly dissatisfied with this response, but a bit cooler headed, the doctor presented a similarly opinion. "People are just standing here because you can't make a decision!"

"It's not that easy! What if I make a wrong decision!"

"Just pick something already!" The older man barked.

"But, I-"

"Fix the clinic."

For the first time, it seemed that the room recognized that Weiss was there at all. At some point in the commotion, he had weaseled his way away from his overseer, and taken to rifling through the assorted papers spread across the office. He might not know anything about hammer and nails, but decisions like this were just resource management. Nicaea had drilled him with scenarios like this on a weekly basis, and as much as he hated to admit the man had ever done him any service, Weiss possessed a rather keen business sense, and something like this seemed entirely straightforward. It was more strange to him that they hadn't already reached this conclusion themselves. "...What? It's the easiest to fix, and the most time sensitive project. The wall isn't going anywhere, and anyone from the displaced families who needs help just goes to the clinic anyway, so it's two-birds-one-stone."

"Well... yes. But what if-"

"JUST PICK SOMETHING!"
"JUST PICK SOMETHING!"
"JUST PICK SOMETHING!"

"Agh! Okay, okay!" Faced with an overwhelming opposition, the indecisive official had little choice but finally take executive action. "We'll start sending men and materials to fix the roof. I'll go too. But since you picked, y-you're coming with me!"

"Wait, wha-aah!" A strong hand sudden had him by the collar, and the precious child quickly found himself hoisted up into the air like, well, a sack of something more dignified that potatoes. With a chance of escape in sight, Bappou bolted out of his makeshift office, passing along a few timid orders as he scrambled out of the city renovation's HQ.

Their goals met (Or at least, finally in the process of being achieved), the three community leaders dispersed, to take care of their respective sectors. That left only the Marine, who stood quietly, with the oddest feeling that something had slipped his mind. "...Wasn't I supposed to tell him something?"

[EriChar]

“Hold this for me.” Flurries of scribbles and scratches with a pencil later, Miss Tsun Dehre offered up the small pad to the old man who reminded her of Pappy. Skeptical, the man seemed hesitant to take the item from her, like it was an exploding toy mouse which she just wound up, or the hot end of a soldering iron she was trying to place in his palm. After a beat or two, the man in the silver star relented a little, and took the pad from Tsun, who tucked the pencil which accompanied the pad behind her ear, and then dropped the large pack she brought with her and begun rooting around inside it. Plucking a screwdriver from within the bag, she gave it a quick glance before stuffing in within the deep pocket from which a few minutes ago the girl had produced the notepad which was now being scrutinized the diagram that she had sketched out on the uppermost sheet.

“So, yeh can draw, but that don’t really mean much…” Despite having seen a rather well designed plan of a building, which featured labels perfectly matching the dimensions available for the building, the older timer didn’t seem to be convinced that the little girl in front him was what she claimed, but Tsun paid him little attention. Thrusting her hand deep into the rucksack that she had brought with her, she pushed past spare clothes mixed with the hard, digging sensation of metallic objects; tools and parts of machinery which she had decided to bring with her. Not the most organised of girls, Tsun didn’t pack with any sort of system or neatness, and the jumbled mess that made up the contents of her travel bag was an illustration of the life she now led. Finally grasping what she had wanted to reach, Tsun wrapped her hand around the feeling of tough fabric, and tugged her arm out of the bag, holding onto what looked like the end of a grubby kind of belt. Her backpack buldging from the strain, as the sum total of her nomadic life threatened to spill forth onto the cold snow around her, the belt finally gave burst free of the bag which held it.

The force with which the item was removed from her bag made Tsun stumble back a step, and once she regained her balance, she now stood with an arm outstretched, holding onto a stained and scuffed toolkit, all contained within the handy confines of a belt.
The man, who had been warily looking to see what she had been trying to conjure from the bag of tricks, eyed the hanging item, and his eyes quickly recognised the mixtures of metal and wood that made up the objects attached to the messy sash.
“Yeh’ve got tools an’all, but that doesn’t mean that yeh can just start bashing away at a broken roof, missy…” His attention seemed largely focused on the metal mallet that sat roughly in the middle of the buckled rope, and again Tsun gave him the barest of regards, instead putting her hands at either end of her tool belt and wrapping it around herself.

Once bound, the belt of implements made for a rather odd look, when combined with the old and oversized coat that Tsun wore to ward off the cold; wound around her tight to keep it on, the sash of stashed tools emphasized the narrow frame of the girl that wore it, forming an hourglass shape with the bulging and baggy sections either side of its wrap. Tsun cared little for the oddness of how she looked; usually she pulled off a similar ‘style’ when in warmer climes than this, just with her trademark jumpsuit taking the place of the currently worn cold weather coat. Stuffing her hand into her pocket once again, she retrieved the screwdriver which had earlier been stored, and poked its flat end through a small loop on her belt, restoring the array of apparatus to its full assembly. With herself now fully ‘tooled up’, Tsun closed up her bag and lifted it with a little displayed effort onto her shoulder again, before stepping forward and over to the wall of the scorched structure. With a slumping sound, the sack was laid on the ground, leaning up against the wall nearest the hanging hinge of the door, the would-be carpenter inspected the damage which had earlier occurred in her attempt to open the room. She could still hear the sound of the old man in her ear, and he seemed to still be harping on about how he couldn’t let her mess around with the broken building, but for Tsun this was largely like unnoticed background music than a person trying to intrude onto her.

Hinges look OK… The engineering girl quickly surveyed the state of the pivoting pieces of metal which clung to the wall, and then turned her attention to the lump of boarded together wood that lay in the snow a few inches away.
As I suspected, the wetness of the snow has rusted the screws and rotted the wood… The door was in less acceptable status compared to the moving metal brackets which had formerly held it, red rings lined the screw holes of wood that was crumbled away to the touch.
Outstretching her hand, she tugged her notepad back from the wittering old man and turned it’s page, jotting a note about the door and it’s hinges, before finally paying some attention to the man again.
“Fetch what supplies you have and able bodies, this is going to be a big job…” Tsun co-opted the silver starred man, who she had never thought was the Town’s Sheriff, into her service like he was a teenager with too much time on his hands.
“I’d like to at least get some cover up before nightfall…” Stepping away from the Sheriff, she expected him to do as she asked, but made no real motion to force him to. The girl had her craftswoman’s mind ‘on’, and instead decided to assess the rest of the building whilst the old coot did her bidding, and so she stepped inside the building with the blackened top, to fully get to grips with it’s condition…

[/blockquote]

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

Once they had made it clear of the builder's HQ, the foreman's mood brightened considerably. It seemed he was just as relieved to be clear of that place as the young pickpocket was to slip away from the Marine. He was forced to stop and stutter off a few orders, rounding up a few odd men and supplies, something he quite obviously did not enjoy, but once they knew were to go he made a point to move ahead of them.

Which was all well and good, except for one minor problem. He was still toting Weiss about like a dufflebag, maintain a particular strong grip on the hood of the lad's sweatshirt. Attempts to free himself from this position had so far been ineffective, leaving him just sort of flailing in the air angrily. Bappou was too caught up in his freedom to notice.

"Man, I've been able to get out of there in days! I hate that place." He stretched out like a lounging feline, taking great pleasure in basking in what sunlight managed to piece the heavy snow-laden clouds that blanketed the sky. However, the smile soured when he realized what he had just said.

"Well, I mean, no. I don't hate it. I do want to work. It's just..." Bappou hung his head, his eyes reflecting the young man's conflicted thoughts. Some subtle shift on how the man was carrying him forced the base of Weiss's hood up around his neck. It was suddenly becoming somewhat difficult for him to draw breath. "I'm not cut out to handle all this, y'know? I mean, the only reason they even gave the job to me was because he was such a great architect, and I worked under him. They all expect me to be Babbou, do things as well as he would have, but I can't. I'm just an apprentice."

A few minutes of silence followed, during which the smaller boy's flailings continued on unnoticed, despite their gradual increase in urgency. "Well, I guess I'll just do what I can. Maybe they can sail in a real craftsman once the ice in the harbor breaks up. In the mean time, I'll just try and keep things from getting worse."

Sharing his troubles served to make them less burdensome, and some spring worked its way back into his step. "Thanks. You're a good listener, buddy. I feel a bit better already."

"Oh, look. Sheriff Warren. What's he doing here?" The sight of his acquaintance apparently loosened his grip, allowing Weiss to fall down onto the trodden snow, gasping desperately for air. It was the first time the builder noticed the state of his companion.

"Something wrong?"

As his breath slowly returned, the young boy's eyes bore holes into Bappou's head, which achieved little in the face of the fellow's obliviousness. "...Nevermind." He heaved a heavy sigh of resignation as the two approached this Sheriff fellow. This was going to be a long day.

And who was the little girl with him? She looked like she had tripped and fallen into a toolbox.

[EriChar]

“Mmmm…” Alone once more, Tsun Dehre made her way around the open topped structure, making inconsequential expressions of ‘um’, ‘mm’ and ‘ohh’ as she surveyed the state of what remained of the burned building. Inside she would find a variety of things, snow covered instruments and bookshelves filled with what were now charcoal briquettes, but the girl as she was, made no real reflection on the sad state of this previously proud practice. Whatever memories of joy or perhaps sadness that were held in the bounds of the ruined clinic remained invisible to Tsun, and if the walls were talking, Tsun certainly was too deaf to hear them.
It’s in better condition than I anticipated… Whilst there were obvious signs of a fire, the brick construction had spared much of the structure a large amount of damage, and whilst building a new roof wasn’t close to an easy job, it was certainly more approachable than erecting a whole edifice from scratch.

Stepping her way back out of the burned building with care not to disturb any of the dangers present within the derelict dwelling, Tsun Dehre exited back into the snowy street outside.
I’ll need more help than myself and this old geezer… In the open again, Tsun stepped through the spoiled surgery’s broken doorway to see that the elderly man was still dallying around outside. To some degree, it irritated the young woman that the old man seemed to have favoured hanging around outside the broken clinic, rather than doing as she had requested.
We won’t be able to build much without supplies either… The girl voiced little of her concerns, and instead set about attending to what she could deal with at the moment. Flipping her notebook back to the sketch she made earlier, Tsun jotted down a few more notes, revisions that the previous inspection had necessitated.

By the time that she had finished her design alteration, Miss Dehre attention to the outside world returned to discover that the solo accompaniment had blossomed into a rather odd trio. Now with the Silver Star chested old man, there was a younger male and another that was even junior to the first.
Bring your child to work day? I suppose it would be useful to have a gopher… The work force hadn’t really expanded in any sort of spectacular fashion, but the mid-aged one looked like he might prove useful in the restoration effort. Tsun was and endowed with brains and experience in tasks of this manner, in fact her early work on Moimoro Island had involved restoration work on some of the local’s abodes, but what she lacked was the brawn needed to actually do the task. Precision work with machines or small carpentry projects she could handle, tossing around beams and tree trunks was not her area of expertise, and the younger man appeared as if he might make up for that weakness. Of course, they could have used a dozen or so more men of that size in order to even contemplate raising a roof on a building of this size, but at least if they had a decent spare pair of hands, they could begin their work.

“It’s not a full team, but I suppose we can get started…” The feisty female foreman wasted no time in taking names, instead jabbing out her orders to the characters present.
“Ojii, we will really need to get some more hands on the job, so can you please go and find us some strong arms to help us with the lifting. They don’t need to be overly skilled, I can direct them as required, but able bodies are essential on a task this large.” Basically the same order that she had given the old man before, Tsun has emphasized and expanded her intents in the hopes that her orders might better reach his mind. Of course, Tsun was hardly in a position to comment on other’s perceptiveness, as even now the old man seemed to be kicking up an ignored fuss about having a town sheriff being bossed about by a little girl. This fell on deaf ears, as on-task Tsun rapidly let her focus on him slip as she now moved onto her next ‘assistant’, the little boy.

“Ah, you, the shrimp.” It might have been a better idea for Tsun to have taken their names, rather than risk a sort of insult to the names she chose on the spot. In truth, Tsun’s work environment had always been a bit rough and ready, so people tended to be better known by the nicknames given rather than their actual appellation, and whilst she had no real malicious intent behind her comment, the fact that the boy was a young boy meant that he was largely born for the moniker. Tsun herself had spent a great deal of time operating under what might be considered endearing epithets, with ‘Girlie’, ‘Princess’ or ‘Little Miss’ being the most frequently used handles.
“We’ll need a large amount of materials to complete this job, can you run along to the suppliers and have this sent over?” Offering a scribbled list of what Tsun expected would be needed to repair the roof, the girl waited for the ‘Shrimp’ to take it and attend to her request. It may have been odd for the islander's to see Tsun so talkative, since she usually simply squeaked and remained quiet and alone. But the girl was a changed woman when she was 'on the job', assertive and more outgoing, and if it called for it, even rather bossy.

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

From his astute observation of the situation, Weiss was able to discern several things. One, the wrinkled fellow was locked in a disapproving sneer, apparently displeased with whatever going-ons had transpired just before he had arrived. Two, aforementioned oldtimer had a silver star pinned onto the breast of his shirt. That generally signified local law enforcement, which was something he approved, at least in the abstract. Such agencies generally acted in the interest of the people they served, as opposed to Navy Bases, whose only real purpose was to scare the island into line, and collect taxes. Third, that girl seemed to be focused intently on whatever she was jotting down. And that notebook was hellathick. What was she doing, anyway? Perhaps she lived here?

“Ah, you, the shrimp.”

"Shrimp?!" "Y-yes?"

Weiss' face flushed with indignation. Logically, he was aware that his short stature was a matter of age and not a personal defect (He was, admittedly, somewhat on the short side of his age-group, but that was information he was unlikely to divulge at this point in time). However the act of another party presenting this fact, especially in such an abrasive manner, sparked a flash of anger in him.

Bappou, on the other hand, was more than used to being called shrimp, runt, pipsqueak, and all other variations of semi-deprecating nicknames, despite being rather tall himself. But, to be fair, his master was a mountain of a man. Or had been. See, there he went making himself depressed again...

Realizing their simultaneous reply, the two exchanged confused glances.

“We’ll need a large amount of materials to complete this job, can you run along to the suppliers and have this sent over?”

"They-" "Yes-"

"I me-" "Sorr-"

Again, their respective responses were jumbled among each other's words. Their synchronous speech was starting to annoy the young runaway, and he shot a glare at his older counterpart. He held his arms out towards Babbou, and then motioned towards the woman inquiring woman, attempting to give him a chance to address her uninterrupted. However, the sudden pressure only made the man shrink away more. After repeating the gesture several times, Weiss tilted his head back and groaned in frustration. At what age do people suddenly become useless?

"There's a group of contractors from the city on their way with tools and materials now. Experienced hands, from the look of them, to help with the labor. Fixing the hospital is priority now. This is the foreman for the reconstruction project. He's, uh. New at it." He thumbed over towards the sheepish fellow next to him.

"Hey Sheriff." Babbou said, waving meekly at the elderly fellow, of whom he was apparently acquainted.

The enforcer seemed to share in Weiss' frustration, though for an entirely different reason. Rubbing his temples did little to alleviate his troubles. "Now, wait. Yer even younger than the missy here. Am I supposed to believe you're a Mechanic too?"

"What? No. I'm not a Mechanic. I'm, uhh..." For a moment, he found himself lacking a sufficient answer. 'Hello! I ran away from home, and have since made a living being where people wish I was not, opening what people do not wish to be opened, and snagging things people would otherwise want kept safe, and because of that, am legally bound to help with construction junk. At least until I find a way out. But it's okay, I am 100% trustworthy!' The mental-Weiss was shortly thereafter gagged and tied to a pole. Not exactly the best-case-scenario.

Shoulders sagging, he gave a short sigh, and offered a something close enough to the truth. "...Here to help."

From behind them, the sound of heavy boots crunching in the snow heralded the arrival of the other men. Despite the bitter cold, they seemed to be talking and laughing as merrily as if they were all down at the pub. Even more surprising, given the heavy crates of wood, nails, and other construction-y bits that they were cradling. From the looks of things, it seemed like they had been spinning their wheels for awhile now. Maybe they were ready to finally start rebuilding their town?

"Where do you want these boxes, boss?" One of the workers said.

[EriChar]

“Ah, supplies are on the way, excellent.” Tsun was relieved to hear that someone in the group at least had some ability to push this job forward, and whilst the short boy hadn’t actually done as she had asked, he had at least handed over information that there would soon be help and materials, something that despite having a great deal more time by her side, the old man had yet to infer to her. She wasn’t the best person in the world at dealing with kids, and in the sixteen years she was alive, never really recalled spending any real time as a child herself. Almost like a shipbuilding robot, the small glance through the window of her history seemed like she had been aiding in mechanics and carpentry ever since she came into existence, and had no real recollection of any time spent enjoying life in the way that the girl had witnessed others her life doing so. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, there were a few times in the past where Delphine had given Tsun a makeover, but that was more an attempt to pacify the somewhat odd young okama, rather than an act of interest.

The young one is a foreman, and the old a sheriff… Logging these items of information within the databank within her head, it didn’t occur to the girl that she’d been rather rude and bossy towards the town sheriff, which the old man was. It wasn’t really that she lacked a sense of respect for authority figures, though often she didn’t consider herself to be the highest authority that there was in the events she involved herself in, more a case of Miss Dehre never considering such thoughts or feelings pertinent to her current task, so they were largely disregarded.

Although, whilst she didn’t expend a great deal of thought towards the topic of the old man being the town Sheriff, Tsun did however seem to have at least a little wild moment of curiosity regarding the individual who had been pointed out as a foreman.
He looks too much of a wallflower to be an effective foreman… Tsun wasn’t exactly impressed by the countenance of the man pointed out to be the foreman, who after being asked to help her, seemed more interest in shrinking into shyness. Having lead a life filled with boisterous and demanding chief carpenters and outspoken mechanics, Tsun was sceptical about the qualifications that this supposed foreman held, particularly given his cowardly comportment. Practically ready to grab him by the ear and drag him with her to begin work, Tsun’s aggressive intent was never revealed since before she had the chance to act on the impulse, her attention was instead distracted by the arrival of many bodies carrying boxes of what she hoped was building supplies.

“For the time being, place them underneath the cover of nearby houses.” Putting a pin in her plan to shock the supposed foreman into action, Tsun instead found that the unanswered question of the dropping point for the boxes would fall on her.
“We don’t want the wood rotting or metal rusting in the snow, these things need to be covered for the moment.” This of course was true, they needed to keep their supplies in tip-top shape until they were needed, and in the hostile, perpetual snow of Ice Nine the wood would damp and dissolve before they ever had a chance to use it, let alone seal it with tar.

“Mr Foreman, it is my advice to erect a temporary tarp and cover the area of the clinic. The weather needs to be kept out if we are to have any success in repairing this building…” Pausing, Tsun tapped her jaw for a moment, scanning the supplies to see if anything was amongst them that could be used to erect such a structure.
“It might be difficult to find a single section sufficiently sizeable to seclude a space as large as this, do we have any seamstresses skilled enough to stitch a selection together?” Taking charge again, Miss Dehre tried to play nice and involve the foreman as best she could, but they were burning daylight; if he continued to waver she’d have to disregard him completely.
“We can secure it to the surrounding buildings if need be, but it is essential we have a clear space to build in.”

Leaving the matter with the foreman, the shipwright girl shuffled over to some of the lain boxes and looked through them, assessing the supplies to ensure they had enough to get started.
Tools and materials, these should do for a start… Whilst the girl had yet to be particularly impressed with the state of her workforce, the solitary shipwright was satisfied with what they had brought for her, and that they could get started. Picking up a few good hammers and bars, she handed them to a sturdy selection of the delivery workers and beckoned for them to follow her.
“While the tarp is prepared, we can make a start on clearing out the waste from the clinic remains… We’ll need to replace a conservable amount of its beams…”

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

Their small standing space was quickly becoming cluttered with the deposit of a number of large wooden crates, spread across several two-high stacks, and the fellows unloading them. The young foreman did not seem to notice, scratching his oddly scruffy chin for a moment in recollection, before turning to one of the men passing him. "Actually, I'm fairly sure we have some big tarps for things like this. Don't we have tarps?"

"Had." The worker's response was terse, and particularly cold in tone, even without factoring in the weather. "They were used to help set up temporary housing for the displaced. Someone was supposed to send off for more."

"Oh, right..." Bappou hung his head. Another one of his responsibilities he hadn't been able to fulfill. There were so many things he was expected to do. He could hardly keep track of what he had managed to accomplish, and what had slipped through his fingers.

"Why not just sew new ones? I could rustle up a tailor right-quick." Their resident senior citizen chimed in. He still sounded somewhat cantankerous, displeased with the prospect of taking orders from those less than a quarter of his age. But at least he was trying to help. Even if his idea displayed a remarkable lack of market knowledge.

"What? No, that'll take ages." Weiss said, waving his hand dismissively at the suggestion. After taking a quick tally, he took a finger and started crafting a diagram in the snow. "Look, we've got about seven large crates here, more on the way. Discounting the space the wood'll take up, craftsmen are going to want space of their own out of the snow, enough to move and work without tripping over one another. Conservative estimate, ten square meters. Bolts of cloth generally come in strips a meter wide and fifteen long. So, in addition to finding the materials and someone to work them, that's still five cuts, with four seams strong enough to hold the weight of snow. See what I mean?" The stares offered by the other two men implied that they did not, or at least did not care to comment. Either way, at this point the boy was on a roll now. He had been groomed to take over a shipping empire. It had been over a year since he snuck away from all that, but the information came back to him all the same.

"No. It's better to salvage than squander." Solid advice in most situations. He would just have to figure out how to apply it here. Suddenly being brought to the realization that the temperature of his finger had dropped dramatically since being introduced to the snow, he let out a quiet curse, and sucked on the digit, hoping to restore warmth. The action did not, however, significantly distract him from his line of thought. A large stretch of fabric to use as a tarp... "The ships in the harbor... Y'know, sails look simple, but they're actually pretty expensive. The captains have taken down their sails to avoid the unnecessary wear. Send someone down to the docks to borrow one. Not like they're going anywhere."

Unsurprisingly, the Sheriff raised objections to the proposed solution. "Hey now. That sounds an awful lot like thievin' to me."

"What? No. Borrowing. For a good cause, even. We can take them back when we're done." The last part he added mostly to satiate the lawman. As of late, he had come to hold ownership laws in rather low regard, especially when said owner already owned a sizable amount of capital. Besides, they would probably give it back. And even if they didn't, every respectable ship carries extra sails. They would not be too terribly delayed.

"Eh. Fine. Can call it a 'requisition'." He grumbled out from under his mustache. He motioned from some workers to follow him, to which they complied. It was only as an afterthought that he remembered to actually ask. "Oh, right. Can I borrow a man or two, Little B?"

"Yessir, go ahead." Bappou snapped at attention, almost as if he was giving a salute, as the elder walked off with his convoy in tow.

"Well, c'mon. Start clearing up the work area! We'll need some poles to support the tarp when they get back. And some shovels, so we can have a chance at dry ground." In truth, Weiss was happy with how things were shaping up. He did rather like giving orders, and having them followed. It seemed these adults weren't quite as useless after all, at least with him at the helm. Perhaps he had been approaching the judge's sentencing all wrong. This could actually be a bit of fun.

His grin was somewhat diminished by the frigid gust that blew straight through his jacket, the cold biting at his face and hands. For awhile there, he had truly believed he was growing accustomed to the sub-zero temperature. This assumption was a false one. "...Gloves, and a scarf, would also be well appreciated."

[EriChar]

“These beams will need taking out so that we can replace them with fresh ones…” Well in the swing of things now, Miss Tsun Dehre was in her element; leading around a gang of burly men and jabbing her hand at things that she wanted to get done. At first they seemed to have been a bit reluctant to acquiesce to her orders, reluctantly going along with her suggestions with confused looks, after the first few burnt boards of wood and charred bricks had been removed, her accompaniment seemed much more willing to go along with the demands which were placed upon them. The Dehre daughter was not the kind of girl to simply expect her ‘workforce’ to get all of their jobs done as she stood around and watched, no, she was too industrious for that. Bouncing between them with her tools in hand, Tsun stopped them at points and showed the workforce the most effective way to accomplish their aim, demonstrating the joys of concepts such of leverage and unbolting screws to make the work proceed much more smoothly.

I didn’t expect skilled hands, but they’re receptive enough to advice… Whilst she had chosen her ‘crew’ largely on the moment, and more at random choice than demonstrated ability, the young shipwright was pleasantly surprised with the progress that they made in their dismantling attempts. Of course, these men were by no means professional; there had been dismantling gangs in the great shipyards which Tsun had grown up with the skill to seemingly disassemble even a large galleon in a matter of a few minutes, picking the pieces of crafts apart with the speed of a greyhound but the efficiency of a hungry vulture. Miss Dehre herself was quite the accomplished wielder of the wrench and screwdriver, gaining a little renown in those same shipyards for the proficiency with which she could disassemble machinery, an innate talent in stripping away all the bearings and bolts to make it seem like a steam engine was exploding into an array of composite parts.

As a young woman who wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, by the time than Tsun had progressed sufficiently to need to wipe her brow even in the freezing temperature of Ice Nine, the black soot from burnt beams of wood left a long smear on her face, giving the white skin that the girl possessed a dark mark of the work that she had been doing. Tsun Dehre wasn’t someone who worried about looking her best, so the grubbiness of her face and gloved mitts went unnoticed as she looked away from the dismantling work, to see how the other team was progressing in their attempt to make a tarp to cover the area.

At least they’re not standing around, looking blankly at one another… Peeking outside the doorframe of the clinic, Tsun scanned the scenario which was stirring outside of her own work environment, hoping to see that the idle hands that she had left were at least slightly busier. Tsun noted that at the very least, they were no longer gawking at one another with their hands in the pockets; several had disappeared, and what remained seemed to only be the supposed ‘foreman’ who looked to be gazing up into the sky.
He’s daydreaming? I might have to leave a few orders and take over… Scanning the sky, Tsun found herself trying to spy something that might have caught the attention of the man whom she didn’t actually know was called Bappou, but her attention was dragged away by a question from one of her crew before she could spot anything of particular note.

It was a continuous source of concern that the person who was supposed to be in charge of the site seemed to spend more time gaping his mouth like a gold fish than actually getting involved in the operation. It was no surprise to the little shipwright that the damage in the town had remained for some time, with such a lackadaisical man leading them, it seemed to the girl that if she hadn’t shown up the town might well have fallen down entirely before the mind-wandering mess of a manager got around to fixing anything within it. She had hoped that either the old man or the brat might have been able to do something to keep the foreman at least vaguely interested, but noted that neither seemed to be on the scene once she had just scanned it.

Have they been sent to gather materials? Once Tsun had shown another handy little technique to her ‘boys’, her eye line whipped back around to check the building site around her again, but this time caught sight of what Bappou had, unknown to her, been looking at earlier.
What does he think he is, a spider? Stomping out of the remains of the clinic, Tsun Dehre marched across the snow in the direction of one of the nearby intact structures, having spied a small shape scaling it’s side.
If he falls off, our work will be halted again… A young woman of great compassion and empathy, Miss Dehre’s concern about having a body fall off a building did not for a second have anything to do with the figure’s safety, more the impact it would have on her schedule.
“HEY YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? GET DOWN FROM THERE, IDIOT!” The tiny squeaks of vocalization that the girl usually produced were a far cry from the angry bellow that boomed from her mouth, threatening to shake the person of the side of the structure with it’s banshee force alone…

[Mr. Moshypocrite McSlowbro]

As it turned out, none of the men were actually wearing scarves. Which struck him as downright foolish. Exposing your neck, in this degree of wind chill? These men were either stubborn, or had ice in their veins. Either way, his objections were quickly silenced when an extra set of work gloves found their way to him, rather big for his mitts, but they met half the apparel-based requests he had made, which was good enough for him.

His chilled fingers resting quite comfortably underneath the thick leather, his mind turned back towards the project. What'sherface, the bossy chick (Who, in all honesty, didn't look that much older than him, which made her condescending remarks regarding his stature grate that much more) mentioned something about needing to replace the building's beams. Which seemed right foolish in his mind. Even if there was some water damage from the snow, some of it had to be salvageable, right? Given the fact they couldn't just 'order more' under these circumstances, it essentially made the island a closed economy situation. Closed economies can only use materials they produce or that they re-purpose, typical for small-town islands without a substantial industrial sector, isolated locations, or nations subjected to heavy trade sanction. High-profit margin for outside traders-wait, no, that's not the point. The point was every plank and board counted at the moment. Sure he didn't know much about what was a good or bad piece of lumber, he figured a keen eye like his would be able to spot the difference.

His original idea had been to wait for the workers to remove the beams, but they seemed to move at a sluggish pace compared to Weiss' expectation. Impatient... isn't quite the word he would for his current condition. They were just being lazy!

So, he made a decision. If they would not bring the wood to him, he would go to it. The young scoundrel had always rather enjoyed climbing, and he considered himself rather good at scaling large objects. It might be a bit easier if he wasn't wearing boots, but he should be able to manage. Securing the contents of his various pockets would as to avoid having them shift in the midst of his trek, he circled the outside of the clinic, looking for a solid starting point. He finally decided to follow along a line of windows, which all seemed in relatively good shape. The ledges made for good handholds, and worst case scenario he kicks in a window and uses the frame for a leg up. Was it somewhat contradictory to break something in the process of trying to avoid breaking something? Well, yes, but windows are easily patched, and are not vital to the stability of a structure. So it would be filed under acceptable losses.

The side of the building was laid with dark jagged brick, that jutted out enough to make for solid handholds, even with his thick gloves on. Upper body strength may have not been his strong point, but his small size does come in handy on occasion. His initial climb was met with a small amount of difficulty, but once he divined the need to wipe away the snow trapped between the stones each time before attempting to ascend further, the trek proceeded with relative ease. The boy's odd monkey-esque agility carried him high up onto the clinic's lofty heights while the people below were still chattering and moving boxes. He placed a hand at the top, curling his hand around an exposed beam. It began to slide under his weight, and for a tense moment, he thought he might have pushed his luck a little too far, but it settled in place. For the moment, it looked like he had made it.

“HEY YOU! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? GET DOWN FROM THERE, IDIOT!” Came a monstrous wail, the volume alone making the whole building seem to shake.

"Wha-" Surprise, more than anything, knocked Weiss' balance out, with his grip fleeing shortly thereafter. Suddenly, he felt gravity take over, his small form being pulled downward into the earth's waiting embrace. Panic overtook him. If he could grab something, he would be able to lock himself to it. But his arms seemed to be frozen and unresponsive. "THIS IS A TERRIBLE REFLEX!"

To his horror, when he looked up he saw the very beam he had been hanging from had apparently dislodged itself just as he had, and was falling just a few feet behind him. It had even brought a few friends along for good measure.

The runaway took a slow, almost painful breath. He really hoped the snow was going to cushion his fall, because the hundreds of pounds of wood that were going to hit him after he landed certainly weren't.

But, in stark contrast to the rather frigid reception Weiss had anticipated receiving when he hit the ground, his landing was actually fairly comfortable. Warm, even, or as warm as anything in this environment gets. Wait. Was that Bappou?

The Foreman had lept into action the moment Weiss had begun to fall. Weaving through the crowd of onlookers, he snatched the boy out of the air one-handed. The other arm, however, had a rather herculean task ahead of it. But he did not seem in the least phased by this development. In fact, with that look of concentration on his face, the fellow seemed more confident that Weiss had ever seen him.

Faster than he could see, Bappou effortlessly plucked the falling beams from the air, driving them into the ground around them. As more fell, chunks of brick began to accompany them, a fact which he quickly compensated for. Using the implanted beams as "walls", he fashioned a roof above their head to shield them from the avalanche of debris. The thunderous impacts of stone against wood continued for what seemed like ages, before finally slowing to nothing more than a few small taps.

After deeming it safe, Weiss was released onto his own feet. Shakily, he hobbled out of the makeshift hut, surveying the structure (and person) responsible for quite possibly saving his life. Who, despite his heroics, was still being outlandishly meek.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... Was that okay?"

"Y-yeah. Fine." The words came out largely by reflex. He was still feeling rather numb to the whole ordeal. He liked to think his life as of the past month had been one of danger and intrigue, but he had never been in a situation where his dreams of a long successful life had been called into question. Bravado could only take him so far. "Thanks."

Shifting his gaze, he saw that he had drawn the attention of the other assembled individuals. Understandable, given the commotion, but the vast amount of attention being drawn to what was minorly his fault chafed on him. It was something his pride could not tolerate. Catching the eye of the bossy woman from earlier, he made his move. "YOUR FAULT! This is your fault! I would have been fine if you hadn't shouted at me for no reason!" While technically true, it was not an argument that would stand up to scrutiny. But the point was not so much that he was successful in deflecting the blame, as much as the importance of at least making the attempt.

Unfortunately, his jab did little to deter the stares of everyone else. "What're you guys doing? Stop looking at me. Go back to work! Snow! Sunset! Deadlines!" He commanded them, tossing up his hands in frustration. With no more than a few chuckles, the workers slowly complied.

[EriChar]

“B-BAKA!!!” With her eyes widening and spine freezing from a cold far worse than even Ice Nine could produce, Tsun Dehre stood in horror as she saw the brat slip from his perch, and plummet towards the ground. Every hair on her body seeming like it was standing on end, clawing at the air around her to pull itself away from her, Tsun was aghast to see that not only was the boy falling through the air, but a few feet behind him was a forests worth of lumber ready to topple down on top of him; if the fall didn’t kill him, being buried in several tons of wood would certainly do a good job of finishing him off.
Damnit, Damnit, DAMNIT! The small shipwright's fears having been realized, with a blink she dashed forward a few feet and pulled from inside her coat what was a very abstract-looking firearm. Shaped more liked a hairdryer than a gun, the weapon she produced had a broad but stubby pipe jutting out from a rather bulbous middle, which had small exhausts poking out from it. A handle had been affixed at the bottom of the tube with a trigger, and behind the body of the ‘gun’, was a long stock that sank into her shoulder.

If I can hit him with Pocchan, I should be able to knock him away from beneath the timbers… Pocchan was of course the odd looking weapon that Miss Dehre had drawn; a form of compression based steam gun with the power to knock a grown man from their feet with a single hit; in the case of a child, it should be able to propel them a considerable distance, should she be able to target him. Not a trained marksman at all, Tsun had received little practice or tutelage in the art of shooting and still wasn’t particularly ‘hot’ at hitting a moving foe. A pressured situation with a small frame being dragged down by gravity, Tsun Dehre had little time to aim and only a narrow area to hit. Of course, despite its power ‘Pocchan’ wasn’t capable of blasting away the falling logs in one shot, and Tsun couldn’t handle the weapin effectively enough yet to rid herself of them in a volley.
Sorry kid, this is gonna hurt a lot… Snatching the trigger back, Tsun discharged the weapon straight at the child, hoping to hit Wiess and blast him out of the way, but her inexpert marksmanship showed in the shot she took. A ball of compressed air rocketed over the area, speeding towards the falling boy and the timbers that chased him to the ground, hoping to help him out of their way. However, it would seem for the moment that luck was not on the side of the boy nor miss Dehre, and neither was the spirit of accuracy; the compressed shot sailed through the air above the boy, disturbing a few of the lead logs as it passed ineffectually through the few feet between them and the young male that they chased.
“N-no…” A tear building in the corner of each of Tsun’s eyes, she looked on helplessly as the wood threatened to smash the child to pieces, but today they would be given no chance.

A blur emerging from the gathered crowd, Tsun recognised the burly form of the foreman as he snatched the falling child from mid-air, catching the youngster before the ground had any chance to make a mark. Then, the shipwright girl was left with an awed sense of disbelief, as she watched the man who she had moments ago written off as an incompetent daydreamer perform an act of cheer brilliance. Strength and dexterity combining, Miss Dehre’s mouth was left ajar as she saw the man who she had never taken the time to know as ‘Bappou’ almost effortlessly bat the wood away with a single hand. And this was no mere job of deflection that Tsun watched; each beam that fell was snatched in the air and placed in the ground with almost unthinkable speed and efficiency, like watching a master flower arranger quickly weave a bouquet. However, the large and impressive man was making no simple posy here, and when he was done, Tsun looked in amazement at the small hut that he had constructed in moments, standing firm despite being built without neither nails nor tools. Wood placed perfectly so that each beam was perfectly balanced with every other, all put together with a single hand in a moment of panic… It was an almost unbelievably impressive feat.

“I-Incredible…” Seeing the boy shakily step out from the rapidly erected hut, Miss Dehre was left with few words and little strength within her legs at the recent excitement, and in a small act that spoke of her age and gender, the young woman wobbled down and onto her knees.
“T-That foreman… Can do that?” Still in shock at the turn of events, the freezing nature of the snow that buried her legs was unnoticed by the young carpenter girl, as one thought ran through her mind… That guy is even better with wood than I am!

"YOUR FAULT! This is your fault! I would have been fine if you hadn't shouted at me for no reason!"

The stunned status of the small statured shipwright girl was alleviated by the pointed outburst of abuse from the rescued boy, her innate ability to give back whatever she took verbally kicking in and dragging the girls mind back from the state of overwhelmed admiration for the foreman.
“MY FAULT? What the hell are you talking about? What kind of brainless idiot just scales the side of a building? Did you think you’d become a man-spider or something?” Panting slightly from the heat of her ‘return of serve’, Tsun pulled herself back to her feet, Pocchan still within her hand as the girl jabbed her finger at the child filled with belligerent intent.

“Why is a little boy even running around a building site anyway? We’re not a day-care!” Angry and defensive, the aggression that Miss Dehre showed to the boisterous boy was not completely born from his comment, and instead was contributed to by a certain sense of inadequacy that the recent situation had given her. Not only had she been unable to help the brat as he fell, she had also watched whilst a person who she had earlier estimated to be rather inadequate in ability had shown how greatly his particular skill range could eclipse hers. A sensitive young woman still, Tsun was neither experienced nor capable of handling such complex emotions well, despite so often keeping her feeling well in check. Whilst Ice Nine had previously been witness to her detached, colder side, the freezing temperatures and inhabitants were now subjected to the blaze of the girls ‘heated’ side. And it would be this passionate flame that would lead the bystanders of Ice Nine to witness the worst battle that their island had ever seen…