[---LOG TAKEN FROM JILLIAN'S PERSPECTIVE----]


[----SOMEWHERE IN THE HILLS OUTSIDE VIORAR...----]

Gforte wakes slowly, his eyes unfocused as he sits up. He rubs his forehead, which was no doubt red, and examines the place around him. Apparentally he had fallen asleep sometime while repairing the Lobstrocity. Pulling a small collection of papers out of his jacket, he quickly jots something down before standing up, stretching, and yawning. The papers are shoved back down into his pocket and he looks at what he had done so far. The answer, was not much. The ankle bolts had been replaced though, at the very least. Gforte nods, and pulls some more metal plates out of the heap behind him. After knocking on them, and holding a magnet to them, he finds a piece that fits his needs apparentally.

The sound of various objects being moved, possibly even thrown or tossed, around can easily be heard throughout the cave, some of which doesn't sound like much care was being taken into doing so. Metal on metal, metal on glass, glass on glass... look at all the neat stuff! The sound of Jillian wading through all these nobody's-treasures leaves clinks, clanks, and clutters in her wake, allowing her position to be easily traceable throughout the cavern.

Occasionally there's even an "oof!" or similar noise as Jillian encounters something heavier than expected.

Gforte looks up at the sound of Jillians escapades, and raises an eyebrow. Shaking his head, he pulls open the lobstrocity, and looks from the rusty tool in his hand to the jagged mess that is the hole in his mech. "Fuuuuuck." Poking his head out of the hatch, he calls out into the piles.

Gforte says ' Oi Jill! You got any fire magic by any chance?'

Jillian pokes her head around a corner; a portion of her hair falls somewhat childishly over one eye, and she gives the impression of being concerned at being called with a request like this. "I do, to some degree. Using it in a small, confining space like this is probably not wise, though. Why?" She doesn't even bother to move her hair out of her face as she speaks, obviously not concerned with it.

Gforte frowns. That probably meant she had the fwooshy-explody kind of fire magic. Not quite the kind he needed here. "Well fuck. Need to get rid of this ripped metal. That's too much fire though." He looks down at the welding tools he had found, and frowns. "Do me a favor, Look out for any long rubber hoses you find out there, 'kay?"

"Well, hang on a second..." Jillian steps around the corner, bringing to light the fact that she's succeeded in ripping her turtleneck in the midst of her exploration. And not just a "I got my sleeve caught on a nail" rip, either. The bottom seam of her bust-cutout is ripped a good foot or so down toward her stomach, but how it happened is anyone's guess. Despite this (and apparently as unconcerned), she makes a play toward the metal in question that requires tending, attempting to get a better look. "What exactly is it that needs done? Just melting it off from the rest of it?" Jillian peers in, brushing the hair out of her face.

Gforte stares blankly at Jillian's sweater. Just, flat-out, no hiding about it, staring. "The fuck were you doing? Bulldozing through the lawnmower pile? I- It doesn't matter." He points at the jagged metal left over from the giant punching through his robot's skin. "That needs to get melted so I can file it down and attach a filler plate."

"Oh, well. That's not too hard; I thought you needed fire for something more destructive." Jillian's assumption probably stems from what she's seen and experienced so far, without trying to hide it. And whether she notices his staring seems to be beside the point, as she takes it upon herself to take a place in front of that which needs attention; the open flaps of her ripped garment hang open loosely, barely concealing that which lay underneath, at this point.

Jillian gestures lightly, holding up one hand; almost immediately, a red glow takes shape in her palm, before manifesting into a hovering spirit of fire, flickering flames dancing about its salamander-like body. She nods to it. "Can you give us a hand? We need this little piece here soldered off." Jillian points with her other hand, at that which needs to be removed, according to Gforte.

Gforte stares at the flame spirit. The Lobstrocity has been forgotten for this moment in his mind, instead he is busy examining this force of nature before looking up to Jillian. "The hell is that?"

The salamander looks up at Jillian with fierce red eyes before turning to the task given to it, blatantly ignoring the confused man behind her. Jillian smiles, herself, as the spirit takes its tiny little baton, and through whatever force it possesses, begins searing off the offending shard of metal at a somewhat slow pace; the edges around where its baton touches glow orange from the heat being applied, and the cut it makes is very thin and delicate.

As it works, Jillian looks over her shoulders, giving Gforte an affirming nod. "A mana spirit of fire. It is way more precise than I could be, considering I figured you didn't want the whole thing burned up. I don't possess anything myself that could do the job, so I asked someone who could." She speaks matter-of-factly, as if this ought to've been common knowledge.

Gforte studies the spirit at work. "Like a really tiny cutting torch. Useful. That's a mana spirit? 's that anything like the mana shards we're supposed to be collecting?" He also looks over Jill and raises an eyebrow. "You can summon these?"

Jillian nods in general, to pretty much all of these questions, though she addresses the one that wasn't meant to be confirmed. "The shards we're seeking are merely tools that have been infused with corruption. Just because they were once involved with the Holyland and its affinities doesn't meant they will be, this time. Corruption comes in all forms, and once a vessel has been used for such a purpose, it is likely that other entities will devise upon it the same purpose." The slamander continues working behind Jillian, nearly completing its task. The ambient orange glow behind her head makes her dark tresses stand out a bit in the light, still a little fluttered from her earlier scavenging. "I can summon them at will, yes. It has as much a part to do with what I am bound by, and the path in life I have chosen for myself. Not all demons have to dwell in darkness. Some of us accept the occasional 'higher calling' and follow law and order. It isn't overly common, but it does happen."

Gforte rolls his eyes. "Oh, I see. 'Higher Calling'." He seems to become quite bitter, turning his attention back to the spirit at work. Apparentally satisfied, he walks over to the section of metal he had chosen earlier, and produces a file from a small pile of tools next to him. Using the file in calm, steady strokes, he begins working the edges of the metal to fit with the new hole that will be in the mecha's back.

Jillian kneels next to the fire spirit as it finishes; the metal piece in question falls to the ground with a clatter, and the salamander bows its head toward Jillian, disappearing in a small flicker of ghostly flame as Jillian gives a small wave. She takes a moment to study the hole left behind, and seems pleased with herself, turning toward Gforte. "Everyone has a point to their existence. Even you. Whether it is meant to be on the end of education, or the opposing end of coercion, everyone has a reason for their existence. It doesn't so much matter what that point is; just knowing it is there is enough." Jillian stands thusly, allowing herself a stretch, still disregarding the state of her attire.

Gforte grunts as he files the metal some more. For a moment, it seems like he doesn't have an argument, but he does speak up. "Yeah, I can go along with that idea. Sure, everyone has a reason to exsist. But a while ago I had to ask myself a question." He drops the file, and stands up. "If you fill your point, do you get a new one?" From there he sets the metal against the hole, measuring it to make sure it's done right.

"Maybe." Jillian lowers her arms, looking over herself idly. "I don't really know. The only thing I am sure of is that everyone serves a purpose at some point, to someone or something. If you continue to exist after you feel your purpose has been served, maybe you were wrong? Mortals can't really determine where their destinies lie. They like to think they can, but it's a very limited scope."

There is a clatter of metal as the filler plate drops out of Gforte's hands. He whips around as you states that, his eyes wide and his lips curled back in a more beastial response than anything else. Too many things shoot through his head, his dreams lately being chief among them. He steps back a step from you. Would she really let her actions be known that easily if she was? Was she playing him, or just too self confident?

Jillian doesn't seem perturbed by this. She merely remains at an idle position, seemingly waiting to either be given another task to perform, or for Gforte to finish his own. "Life is a journey from start to finish. When mortals are born, they strive to seek a purpose. Whether they personally feel they have achieved that purpose or not by the time they expire is up to them. But who can say what real purpose is? Who decides? The world is based in opinion. Everyone thinks differently of everyone else, and of themselves. Who decides what is fact?" Jillian idly pulls at one of the ripped flaps her her turtleneck. "Like I said. People like to think they do. But can one person argue a point over the voices of billions of others? It's all part and partial, which is how the world fits together as well as it does. It's just one manner of balance."

Gforte looks Jillian over, trying to force his face to return to normal. He needed to think, he needed to plan, he needed to learn things. Jillian's constant runaround over friend or not was now devolving into a case of friend or foe. Maybe she had been constantly testing him this entire time, but why?

Gforte pulls his mental shields tighter around himself. It didn't matter. She was a messenger from the gods, and not a mortal herself. The only non-mortals he knew wanted to play with him like he was a puppet. Fucking figures that he couldn't trust anyone, again. Outwardly, he shakes his head. "Come on, I'll get some needle and thread and we can sew up that rip."

Jillian looks down at herself again, and nods at his suggestion. "This is probably a good idea." She promptly sets about removing her turtleneck entirely from where she stands, slinging the fabric over one shoulder as she turns to face him, now utterly devoid of anything covering her pale torso. "Is something like that to be had already, or do I need to go digging again?" There is an odd playfulness in her voice upon this question, but she IS a succubus, after all. Her smile, at the very least, seems genuine.

Gforte realizes what Jillian is going to do a second too late to pretend not to stare, and instead just stops and stares. For a second, every bit of paranoia that had just flooded his mind left. He didn't care about anything that could happen, and wanted to continue to not care. With a good bit of will, he closes his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's in the robot, I'll get it." He turns and begins fishing in the junk at the bottom of the Lobstrocity.

Jillian continues smiling, though it gradually becomes less obnoxious and more endearing. "You know, you could stand to not worry so much. Take life by the horns, do what you need to do. If you're intent on doing it anyway, what good does it do to concern yourself with anything else?" Could she have sensed his irritation earlier? Or was it just obvious? Her ditzy episodes seem to at least keep the tension at a minimum, and beyond that, she'd be lying if she said she didn't appreciate the attention once in awhile. Even if she'd never admit it openly. "Take into consideration that I don't have to be here, Haut. There must be a reason why I still am, right? Just take things in stride, let it all hang out once in awhile." Jillian bounces lightly at the end of this statement, and so does... well, nevermind.

Gforte bristles a bit as Jillian begins talking again, having been using this digging around time to try and re-steel himself. He pulls out a small box, supposedly containing the supplies before turning around in time to see her bouncing. It less freezes him this time, more he just seems to deflate a bit. "I... it's too long of a story for right now." He pulls off his jacket, and offers it to her. "Here, take this. It'll protect you more during your junkyard romps."

Jillian takes the jacket, her smile forming a smirk. "Appreciated, this." She pulls it on, not minding any difference in shape or size that it appears on her. She leaves it unbuttoned/unzipped, though, for good measure, and looks down at herself once it is on. "Hey, that's not bad. Maybe I'll have to get one of these, too." Her tail curls about her backside in apparent appeasement, having been in close this whole time to avoid getting caught on anything sticking out of the junkpiles.

Gforte nods at Jillian. "It works, for certian appeals of barely contained. Go on, I'll take care of this before I get my work done." True to his word, he kicks a nearby milk crate upside down, rests on it, and begins examining the garment to see what needs repairing.