a heart like clockwork.

(NOOO NOOO DON’T TURN US IDV CHARACTERS INTO MARKETABLE PLUSHIES NOOO–)

Please welcome this blonde “mechanic” into the workaholic club! She knows her limits! But... chooses to ignore them in pursuit of creating the next big project!

For the love of god don’t scare her she’s 21 and all but she’s a scaredy cat and there’s no knowing if even the slightest fright will make her cry. (Quite the contrast to loud noises when she’s making a gadget or invention. Rollercoasters don’t scare her because she understands the mechanisms behind it...)

Tracy can get reaally fired up if talking about inventions and things of that nature. It’s when she shines brightest and is her most comfortable. Otherwise, she’s a bit of a recluse unintentionally. Try talking to her! She may not be the smoothest with her words at first, but she means well!

What? You’re even awkwarder than Tracy? How’s that possible? But hey, with Tracy, you’re in this together! Need a hand? She very well may extend hers to you if you need it!

If you see her outside the confines of her room expect it to be by large bodies of water or nature-esque surroundings not inhabited by too many people. She’s usually indoors though!

She has a six inch doll (robot) she’s hauling around which USED to be life-size but he’s not right now but it’s okay. She’s coping. His name is Milo, and she’d gladly show him to you despite the current circumstances. Not that she can operate him without the controller...

WHAT IS THE POINT of exerting several years of blood, sweat, and tears into her and her father’s beloved creation only to discard of it and proceed to invent something new? Something functional? The very last thing that Tracy could have anticipated with the whirlwind of events she’d encountered recently (which, let’s face it, were already quite the common place for the mechanic up until now) was that her automaton creation would be shrunk down to the size of a literal doll for her to tug around like a child with reckless abandon. Even trying her hand at tinkering with it proved to be a fruitless effort. But to create a new robot was to deny both a significant piece of her life, and her father. While she was all for starting on the next big thing the concept of this was out of question. Down on her luck, yet determined to not give up on Milo being returned to his prior state, she decided to keep him close on her person by placing him into her jumpsuit pocket. In her eyes, it was a sturdy enough spot to make sure she didn’t lose him. 

She wanders through the streets of some place - god knows where, she’s still unused to any place that wasn’t the dark of the manor - mind clouded with the what - ifs - hows - and whys of the current predicament. A frown pressed firmly on her pale features as each step she took was with the weight of a imaginary ball and chain around her ankles, slowing her down. Her eyes are glued to the floor as she’s far too nervous to meet the indiscernible looks of complete strangers, nor does she wish to burden them by asking for guidance on what to do from here. Seems as if she was hunching a little too low as the shrunken automaton topples directly out of her pocket and down onto the ground. 

“Augh-! No, you can’t do that Milo!” The blonde’s voice spikes up in sudden alertness. Her speed is swift and reflexive as she immediately crouches down to pick him up. A pair of shoes other than her own come into her field of vision and she’s already mentally chiding herself for her sudden impulse to poor manners and awareness to those around her. If this were a match, she’d surely had been terrorshocked right now! “I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to just stop like that,” Tracy cries, raising her head to authenticate the sincerity behind her words. Brows furrow over her eyes as she looks directly into cerulean scleras, confounded by her bundle of nerves before clarity strikes like lightning and she’s even more frazzled than the second prior.

  He could not be sure how long his pocketwatch had been broken – it followed him into this place, tucked safely in one the bags around his waist, so he guessed that it took a hit after one of his few falls onto the concrete. By this point, he knew that his cellphone could provide the time for him, but he preferred the pocketwatch; it felt more familiar.

Claiming a table in the library, he pried open the back of the watch with his knife and spread the miscellaneous tools he always carried in front of him–wires, small blades, and screwdriver-like implements. A wire in his hand, he leaned over the watch and began poking around the inside– but he quickly realized he had no idea how to fix it. Oh well. He’ll figure it out.

About thirty minutes passed, and he’s broken into a sweat, both hands shaking as he he used the wires to apply pressure to two different parts of the watch. Whatever he thought he was doing, the concentration on his face conveyed how serious he was about it – but that focus was broken when a gear suddenly gave under the force applied, causing it to shoot out of the watch, roll across the table, and fall onto the floor. Luckily for him, it landed right in front of someone!

“Hey! Grab that for me, will you? I can’t take my hands off of this!!”

@overclockings​​

TO THINK that there was a place she’d been confined to that was more free, more encapsulating than the all too dark and gloomy Oletus Manor was something that the blonde had to come to terms with regardless of her feelings on the matter. The plethora of feelings that surged within the mechanic was far too confusing, yet, in the swell of her heart, she knew she was just a tad bit excited to come across a place that had been all the more advanced in architecture and general technology. Mindful of the fluctuating anxiety that welcomed her upon arrival, she would eventually come to seat herself down at a table in the library with more than a handful of books sprawled across the surface in attempt to get up to speed with things as quickly as possible. Yet when she threw the cover of a textbook back, the clanking sound against the floor calls her attention to one hundred. As she throws her head down to retrieve the item and return it to the owner, she notices it is a gear of all things that had rolled against the tip of her boot. How curious!

“Ah- hold on,” Tracy responds, plucking the object into her hands. “Coming!”

Curiosity killed the cat indeed. The moment she stands up from her own table and goes to sneak a peek at what the stranger was working on, curious eyes turn wide with horror as her mouth drops in silent disbelief. The gear she’d previously been holding onto falls from her hands and back onto his own table unceremoniously as she contains the urge to outright scream at the sight that was unfolding beneath her. Was this a repair attempt or outright sabotage of a precious item!? No- she had to save it!

hello again isola! im not new here but it has been an extremely long time since i was involved! i may as well be new here!