Bolt

PUT PIC HERE

Brass Steampunk Goggles Apparel Tinted goggles of polished brass. They're perfect for shielding a dragon's eyes from soot, smoke, or water. That is, until they get steamed up. The color is purely cosmetic. 1000 Highland Scavenger Apparel Protection against the heat, sand, and electric storms of the Shifting Expanse. (Thundercrack Carnivale Holiday Item 2017.) 0 Gladiator's Warhorn Trinkets Popular among front line warriors, this horn emits a frightening blast of sound when blown; enough to strike terror into an enemy's heart. 85 Bolt is still a 'Pup' in Citadel terms. When she was born, one of Badar's little 'Whoospies' she was isntantly sent off to go live with her Sister Lyudmila and her Husband Homer, The Lord Of Gas Town. After all her mother had been one of his workers so it only seemed right she go to live with them. Lyudmila and Homer are far too busy to pay any attention to her besides the ever random 'teachable moment' from Homer. He tries to sit her down and teach her the books, numbers, costs, but they jumble up in her mind and flow out like hot guzzaloine. She has no head for numbers, no looks for marriage arrangements, and no status for the soft life. So instead she works, and she likes it. Getting one's hands dirty, covered in oil, nipped by the machines...its the best feeling in the world.

"QUOTE HERE" "BOLT!" Bolt knocks her head against the machine she had been working on all morning to the shrill sound of her older sister's shout. Lyudmila came striding over the rickety metal catwalk that connected the machine to the rest of the refinery. Oil bubbled beneath them, popping like snapping hounds beneath. Bolt eyed the cat walk warily, not trusting it to hold them both up here unlike Lyudmila who seemed to be bouncing with excitement.

PUT PIC HERE

"Father calls! He wants us to visit him." Bolt shrugged, turning back to her work.

"Okay, have fun." She snarled as a hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back around. Lyudmila looked agitated before calming herself and shaking her head.

"Bolt, he calls us BOTH." Bolt almost dropped the wrench she held, mixed emotions running through her.

"He calls me by name?" Lyudmila made a face, Bolt's hope dashing as she recognized it.

"Not exactly. His calling on Homer to talk about their next campaign and i'm to join him. I want to take you with me as my 'attendant'. Bolt, you've never seen the Citadel, you've never met the Wives or seen green, or breathed clean! This is your chance to have a taste of the high life!" Bolt felt something deep in her raise it's ugly head. A feeling she did not often have. Fear.

"Can i think on it?" Lyudmila huffed, but let go and stepped back. They didn't act as most 'Sisters' would, their relationship was on and off again through the years. Lyudmila too caught up in her own business, Bolt left to scrounge around and fend for herself among the inhabitants of Gas Town.

"Fine, you have 'till morning." Bolt held her breath as Lyudmila stomped away, the catwalk screaming in protest as metal scraped against metal. She was being offered a glimps of the high life, something she had never seen before only heard from other workers. What was her hesitation? Once Lyudmila was gone she breathed again, taking a deep one to try and clear her head. It didn't help.

"Stupid High Life. Whats the point? Ain't like i'll ever live it like Lyudmila did. Nothing but a way to tease me. Get me addicted..." But a voice, a tiny voice in the back of her head kept whispering something. Like maggots burrowing into her head.

'Do it. Do it. DO IT!'

"FINE!" Bolt roared, in anger she threw the wrench down on the catwalk, not caring it slipped through the holes and fell into the bubbling oil below. Fine, if her Sister wanted to show her the highlife, lets see what it's all about. Whats the worse that could happen?