Jillian has, for the time being, finished rummaging around in the near-endless piles of junk, possibly fearing more ripped garments. It wasn't that she saw anything wrong with NOT having clothes on, but it did hinder certain social aspects of the world. So instead, she just copped a seat on an old hunk of metal that didn't look too sharp, still wearing Haut's jacket (unzipped, of course), having been unable to find any of those cable tubes he had mentioned earlier. She wasn't mechanically-minded in the least, anyway.

Gforte produces a thread and needle from the small box he had pulled from his mecha, and attepts to thread the needle several times before pulling a small metal wire from the box as well, using that to help him get it started. Once thread and needle had been tied together, he measures out a length, folds the ripped portion of Jillian's sweater together, and begins ajoining it. As he works, Gforte attempts to clear his head, using the threat of poking himself accidentally to keep his mind on task.

Jillian opts not to do or even say anything. She'd sewn before, and figured it likely to be a more focal task for mortals especially. Besides, he'd probably tell her to go make herself useful and let him work or some jazz like that. She pulled at the coat idly, wondering if a new style might be in order. She did like the concept, and it suited her persona a bit, too. What good was having skin if you couldn't show it off?

At the moment, though, she was just hanging out. Jillian wouldn't be especially needed until they got closer to the other shards. So until then... "Thanks, by the way. You didn't have to do that."

Gforte shrugs, taking an opportunity to straighten the fabric and make sure he's sewing it together straight. "If you mean the jacket, it's no problem. Dick move to make someone strute about nude. If you mean the sewing, well." He puts in a few more stitches, focusing for a moment to make sure he doesn't get any knots in the thread. "Believe it or not I used to sew some a while back. It's a good skill to know." He gives Jillian a glance to see if she even reacts to this bit of knowledge.

Jillian nods, remaining seated where she is, the jacket flaps not really doing well to cover much given the way she's leaning back. It could be assumed at this point that it quite possibly isn't an accident. "I would believe it. Especially when you can't just go out and buy new ones. There's nothing wrong with material preservation."

Jillian speaks matter-of-factly, however, not even offering so much as a smirk. "But still, yes. My thanks for both the repairs and the jacket. It's decidedly considerate of you."

Gforte doesn't give any outer signs of being affected by Jillian's... openess anymore. He doesn't even look like he's oggling. Instead, he just turns back to the sewing. "'s fine. I figure I'll head out, see if I can find any food in the area after I get this done." He straightens the fabric again, and exhales. "Repairs should take the rest of the day, so if you don't have an issue with it, we'll hunker down here again where it's safe."

Jillian straightens herself, standing up and allowing the jacket to actually cover her chest at this time. "Well, tell you what. Why don't we save time and effort, and I'll go get us something while you're doing that? I'll be back by the time you're finished." She pauses, placing a hand on her hip. "Unless you're afraid of me disappearing again."

Gforte gives Jillian a raised eyebrow, but shrugs. "Works for me. As long as you don't actually take this time to disappear." He sets the needle down for a moment to pop his finger joints, and rubs his chin. "Should be some good bird hunting just outside. Maybe even a few stray dogs in the caves. Really, drag back anything and I'll see if I can cook it."

Jillian waves a hand dismissively, giving the impression that she wasn't going to do anything of the sort. "Will do. Give me about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and I'll be back." She turns as though she were going to walk away, and just kind of... melts into the shadows, given that there are likely plenty of them to choose form in this cave.

Gforte doesn't put too much thought into Jillian's ability to fade into shadows. It would do no good for his paranoia. Instead, he sets himself back to her sweater, trying to get the damned thread to work the way it should. "Should have never quit. Damn stitches are impossible these days." Of course, the last time he had stitched was two bodies ago. Gforte shakes his head and stops thinking all together. It made things easier that way.

A length of time passes, and pretty much right around the 17-minutes-and-30-seconds mark, the shadows near where Jillian exited earlier wobble and contort, gradually taking on her body shape and filling in the finer details until she is whole again. Likely before they are even visible, a fairly aromatic smell fills the immediate area, coming from two large plates she is carrying, one in each hand. She doesn't look any different otherwise, coat still not zipped up despite wherever it was she could have gone. "My timing's a little off, and I couldn't find a clock. Hopefully that didn't post too much of an issue." Jillian blinks once, letting her eyes adjust to the lighting.

Gforte catches movement at the corner of his eye, and a crude, yet still obvoiusly dangerous projectile weapon is pointed at Jillian before she fully materializes. With a grunt, Gforte sets the scrap creation down, and focuses back down on what seems to be the last of the repairs to the sweater. "Welcome back. Make more noise next time." He bites the thread off the needle before repacking his supplies, and standing up.

Jillian smiles openly, not seeming to mind. "Shadows don't make noise, unfortunately. But I'll try and remember that for next time. On the plus side, I brought back something that is likely a far cry better than anything roaming the hills out here. I think you'll approve." With something akin to a flourish, she turns halfway around, looking for a spot to place her behind down nearby that might suffice for a proper eating location.

Gforte folds Jillian's sweater and leaves it on the milk crate he had been sitting on. "Here. You take this one." He then enters the junk piles for a moment amidst much clanging and clunking. After a minute or so of this, he returns with half of a metal barrel and a wide sheet of steel. After fashioning them into about the crudest table you'll ever see, he nods. "That work?"

Jillian nods in approval. "Indeed." She sets both plates down upon said crudely-made table, consisting of healthy portions of a meatlof-looking substance and what would appear to be (and likely is!) multiple plops of mashed potatoes. Both plates are identical in content, and she scoots herself up to one end of this table, dropping a couple plastic-wrapped packs of utensils. "There you go. I figured if you were going to do me a favor, I might as well do you one." Her smile comes off as consider considerably genuine, for a change.

Gforte looks over the meal with a raised eyebrow before fixing Jillian with a bemeased expression. "You. Are the worst hunter I have ever met." He chuckles at his own joke and pulls a small patio chair up to the scrap table before digging in to the food. By the way he's eating, it seems like he's perfectly fine with it.

Jillian allows herself to eat as well, putting on a strangely delicate air about it, similar to when they were at the inn in Tonoe. Possibly noticeable at the closeness proximity is that Jillian's meatloaf is actually tinted somewhat green, almost. Or, at the least, has a lot of green in it. It's difficult to tell which of these is the true case. Nevertheless, she does eat it, looking pleased with herself. "I don't care much for the slaughter of innocents by my own hand, whether animalistic or intelligent. Besides, I might have broken a nail in the attempt." This last statement sounds rather obnoxious, as though Jillian were mocking toward some specific (but unnamed) group.

Gforte has constructed a meatloaf and mashed potato sandwich, with meatloaf for buns, and catches the sarcasm in her voice enough to smirk. "Well thanks for actually getting me something with a bit of murder in it. Had enough of greens in that month I spent up in rabite. Little rabbit bastards are hard to catch."

Jillian doesn't say anything regarding this remark, but proceeds to eat her food in a several-moment period of silence. As she grows toward finishing, cutting through what appears to be a broccoli stem half-buried in her meatloaf, she holds it up on the end of her fork, gesturing at nothing in particular. "Do you have a destination in mind after you've repaired your ride, Haut? The details have remained a bit fuzzy to me, so far, other than your general objective."

Gforte shrugs, and gives Jillian the courtesy of finishing the mouthfull of food he had before answering. "Ahem. No real plans. Hunt down the shards, cause an cataclysm, stop the cataclysm, be a hero. Anything inbetween points A and points B are up in the air. Got something you need to do?"

Jillian shakes her head. "I won't know until something happens, and then it should depend on what that something is. Right now, I'm just an observer. You know, trying to fill in the blanks for the things I don't understand during the course of 'A' to 'B'."

You say 'Which reminds me. Do you know anything about that woman we encountered at the edge of the swamp, a short while back?'

Gforte raises an eyebrow at Jillian, having been finishing up his plate while she spoke. A large swallow and a wiped mouth later, and Gforte sits back to remember. "The immortal? One you seemed to know? Nope, can't say that I do. Though, if I ever do see her again, it'll prove interesting. Why?" He figured Jillian knew much more than she was telling him, but that was par for the course at this point.

Jillian finishes what little bit she has left without answering, then pushes her dish away, fork atop the plate. "That was Erim. She's known for a lot more than just being immortal; she's essentially, if you would think of it in such an unorthodox manner, the incarnation of reincarnation. Her presence is a warning, because if she is around, the 'others' are likely not far behind. I'm just confused on her motives, because she could have done a lot worse to us than taunting."

"So you're telling me that a version of death if stalking us, and soon enough a whole 'nother host of bad guys are going to drop by? Because that's what I'm getting here." Gforte sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, figured shit wouldn't be easy. As a messenger, are you allowed to tell me anything about these people, or not? Or do you just not want to?"

Jillian leans back somewhat, draping a hand over her stomach that holds the jacket in place as she does. "No, the knowledge is more or less common, at least to certain sects. They are known as the Sinistrals, and there are four of them. Erim is known to resurrect the other three pretty much at will, because she herself cannot be destroyed. Their unfortunate trait is that as long as one is alive, so too eventually will the others be. They have been vanquished many times before, but Erim always returns, in another body. It's been this way for centuries." Jillian sniffs, rubbing her nose with one forearm. "They don't generally have a long-term motive, aside from your basic world domination aspects. But their power is just short of godly, without the right artifacts to stand up to them."

Gforte raises an eyebrow, and stands up, albiet a bit slowly. He draws in a breath before moving again, stepping over to the currently shut down mech and looking at it. "Lemmie guess. These artifacts are difficult to find, and or guarded by zealous guardians who will only give them up to those who prove themselves worthy. Further, attempting to assault them head on without these artifacts will prove deadly. 'm I hitting the nail on the head?"

"Only somewhat. I may have misspoke, but there is actually only one artifact. And as far as I know, there are no guardians. It is most that nobody knows where it is at this time, because of the fact that nobody has had need of it in the longest time." Jillian also gets to her feet, leaning forward and brushing off her pants.

You say 'In any other world, your idea of engaging them head-on might prove futile, yes. But it is dificult to determine the outcome here, where so many claim to be of godlike status. It is strongly unadvised, though, regardless.'

Gforte lets out a soft chuckle of laughter, and shakes his head. "Yeah, you'd have to find someone else to hear that Jill. Do I look like some kind of god to you?" There's an oddly bitter tone in Gforte's voice, but he shakes his head to dispel it. "Don't suppose you know a way to find this artifact, or that your boss knows."

"Unfortunately, no. And personally, I think that we would be better off not worrying about it right now, anyway, until and unless we know what Erim's motives are. I'm having a hard time believing that she has a reason for not bringing the other three back yet, unless... she can't." Jillian pauses, backing up just a bit in her explanation. "The artifact in question is shielded from minds' eyes because of its neutral nature; if the Sinistrals find it, as their goal typically is, there will be no way to remove it from their grasp, because unlike most 'holy'-aligned objects you might hear about heroes seeking out to battle the forces of evil with, this one will not repel evil intent; it assumes its power regardless of who has it." Jillian nods, letting out a breath from her long-winded explanation. "It shields its presence thusly from both sides. A different form of pinpointing is required to locate the Dual Blade."

Gforte assumes a dour expression, and runs a hand over the metal carapace of the mecha before him. "Can't say I've heard of many holy objects, but if you think we can work without it, then we will." He jerks his thumb to the repaired sweater and collects a piece of worked metal. "Your sweater should be good now. If you want to keep wearing my jacket, go ahead. Does a man good to see a pretty lady every once in a while."

Jillian smiles faintly, and does indeed step forward to collect her sweater, taking a moment to remove herself of the jacket and dress herself on the spot, without regard to anything around her. She pops her head through the neckhole, straighting it for a moment and surveying the repair job. Pleased (at least apparently), she also reacquires the jacket in question, throwing it back on without a second's thought, and again leaving it unzipped. She turns to him, inclining her head respectfully. "Thanks again." Jillian glances back toward the mech, eyeing it in a couple of places, then looking back at Gforte. "I'll remember this the next time a favor is required."