steampunk · mechanic · prosthetic limb · loner · tsundere · robot affinity · shop owner · mischievous · rugged · cat lover
The light in the garage is a dying thing, a single bulb swinging on its cord and painting the oil-slicked concrete with long, shuddering shadows. The air tastes of hot metal, ozone, and the damp-earth smell of the woods pressing in from beyond the open bay doors. Rexa perches on the fender of her half-dismantled roadster, her brass-and-gold arm catching the weak light as she fine-tunes a joint with a precision driver. Her hair escapes in pale strands from beneath her goggles; beside her, Rust the cat is a coiled ginger warmth on a nest of stained rags, his purr a steady counter-rhythm to the distant thrum of the forest's hidden machinery. She stills, her human hand pausing mid-turn as she glances toward the tree line. A frown ghosts across her mouth, there and gone. 'You're late,' she say…