Silver to Gold [Metal Drive]

So much for getting a good day's rest - the moment the scrap was brought in, Silver was off to the races.

He'd occasionally run into one member of the group or another, but they recognized that look: a driven, focused look that phased out everything unnecessary to the task at hand. Angel and the General knew better than to distract with that process, and thus it became another ordinary-but-not-ordinary day at the Coliseum...

... Until, eventually, they would finally bother the wolf with dinner. With a knock at the door, Angel would push the way in with his shoulder, and blink with the sheer amount of progress that he had made. The scrap boxes were empty, barely a single bolt left, and Silver had even thrown his own armor into the mix. The Renamon's interest was soon drawn to the armor, though, carefully running a hand down the side.

"Hm... decent balance, considering the absolute crap parts you had to work with. That said, I was going to tell you that the grub's on, but..."

The fox's nose twitched. "You smell like rot and death. Showers, two doors down to your left, in the old locker rooms. Just don't use 'em too long or you'll make yourself cold, in your condition."

All in all, it was a workable shower.

The hot and cold water balance was a little touchy, and perhaps he wouldn't have the best time drying off - but it was about the same as trying to use the shower at any of the hotels in Terminus. It would take some time for him to get dry, and by the time he would get back to his room...

... He would see all three of his weapons moved. The sword rested right by the whetstone, the axe leaning against the wall, and the warhammer held in the Renamon's hands. As Silver would walk in, the fox's eyes would flick briefly over to the smith, before moving back to the weapon at hand. There was no apology in her tone. In fact?

Angel found herself completely focused on these tools.

"Not bad for making all of these out of scrap, but..." She hoisted the hammer up, resting the head against her right palm. "There's not enough hoist to the handle here. You're more liable to wrench your arm off on the upswing then bring this crashing down on anything... you need to increase the counterweight."

As for the sword, she'd flick her vision over to it. "Interesting craft - but all you're doing is duplicating the warhammer's work with something like that. You can build up a huge electrical current in a hunk of metal without worrying about its durability, but run enough electricity through a sword and it'll eventually dull, turn red and shit. The more metal you use, the more energy will be drawn to the edges to rough it out. I'd recommend a shortsword, rapier, or scimitar in that respect..."

... Sheesh, she was enthralled!

"Right... figures this would be the one still in progress..."

The fox gave a short huff at that, carefully handing Silver over the warhammer, as she once more took the sword in hand. Admittedly, this weapon was the most impractical, even with Azulongmon's massive power source, simply due to the combination of its weight and shape. Well, impractical for utilizing lightning, at least: carefully taking the large blade in both hands, the fox started to appreciate its feel.

"... The 'pitch' might be a bit off. A degree or so favored on the right side, might cause it to swing wide a little bit..." But, indeed, these were more meant to be hunks of metal to break and reforge, so such imperfections were expected. Angel might have been a step or two further in design. Silver was quick to list off the benefits and weaknesses of each of the Renamon's suggested designs.

... And at Silver's request to see the rapier, well, Angel's blade itself would talk: "Really, must you?"

"Oh, pipe down." Angel took the blade by its sheath. "We kidnapped the guy, the least you can do is let him examine. Though a warning, this blade wasn't 'forged', so there's not going to be a blueprint for it."

Indeed - as soon as Silver examined the rapier, he'd probably be unable to determine exactly what made up the material. Digizoid, Platinum, some weird alien metal? Being forged from a BladeKuwagamon gave the blade a more stark-white color than most materials... though it was an incredibly efficient-looking weapon, otherwise, even crackling with its own electrical current.

"Glad you're sticking to what you know, though. If this were up to Volt you'd already be working with backpacks and circuitry - and I don't know how to make a battery pack or anything fancy like that. Tch..." She carefully set the larger blade aside.

"Sorta a shame we had to pull you from a real forge for this."

"Meh, I might appreciate that a bit more if it was a one-hander. Like this, it just throws off my balance."

Again, just a prototype. She'd set the sword aside, having more-or-less gone through all of the tools once already. The axe was interesting as well, but what was with all of these extremely heavy weapons? Her ear would flick as Silver started to analyze the rapier, the fox doing her best to hide her chuckle. Although Silver was in-tune with the blade's quality...

... Angel was in tune with Blade's annoyance.

"That's because I was made to fit to her hands! You've already seen Demon with the visor - that's how we all work around here."

"Heh..." She'd mercifully take the sword back, resting both it and the sheath at her left hip. At the offer to see her hands, the fox would give a blink and a shrug - holding them out for the wolf to examine. If he was expecting skilled paws, he might be somewhat disappointed: no, these were the rough, chapped claws of a Renamon who had wielded all sorts of weapons, the 'wear' against it suggesting that she was able to use all sorts of tools. Rather, they would look more like Silver's hands, even with the same callus from working a whetstone.

"... Tch. You heard the sword - we literally were made for each-other." Stepping back, she'd draw the blade, naturally stepping into stance. One foot forward, she took the proper step of a fencer, as if she could just run through whoever was in front of her.

"You don't really get this Xros shit, do you?" The fox questioned. At that, she'd actually break her Xros, tossing the sword off to the left side, leaving the full-sized BladeKuwagamon in its place. In the same breath, the Renamon would lose the chainmail at her wrists - and her stance would become decidedly more feral.

"We may appear separate, but we become one Digimon. Not only do I become the weapon to suit her, but she also becomes the duelist that suits me."

"As he said, he's bound to my core like that. We don't have to think about 'weight' or 'balance' or anything of the craft, or even worry about cracks or damages. The weapon is part of our evolution - and a rapier's not all he can become."

"To be fair, I was the Xros Digimon that Kan met at the end."

Angel let out a 'tsk' at that, hoping that the spirit would at least remember that little detail. Still, it made sense that they wouldn't know how Xros worked - and it also made sense that he'd be enthralled as to the other weapons that Blade could become. "My forms for Angel are a rapier, a scimitar, and a set of claws. But we won't be able to demonstrate them here." Blade crackled out with an annoyed tone, as Angel gave a nod to Kan.

"Yeah, there's restrictions to how our cores work. We did work to 'make' these forms, but once they were set, its not easy to change 'em out further. You saw my claws back in that whole desert incident - and as for the scimitar, well, that's at my 'mega'." She explained it rather roughly, the fox blinking as it seemed that something just clicked in Silver's head.

He thought about it all wrong? The fox gave a grin. "Really, now?" She gave a chuckle - and with a tilt of her head, Blade gave a groan, and floated his way out of the room. Right there, Angel would step in, and if allowed, would trace a claw right under his chin.

"What, going to try and make a weapon out of your own core?"

Talk about forward.

As Silver continued to speak, perhaps stammering through it, the fox listened with intent. It seemed like the wolf was still on the cusp of an idea, unsure exactly of how to proceed - but Angel was on the right tract. It made more sense to use Silver's current data structure to manifest the weapon, rather than simply rely on outside materials to hold the Sovereign's energy.

That much was certain: "Maybe that's just a matter of data infusion. Rather than simply source out the best material, you'd have to make a stop-gap out of something else."

Decidedly good advice... that was given while the fox slipped her hand to the side of Silver's head, the claw cupping around his cheek. She looked him eye-to-eye. "Maybe you could do well with a second set of eyes, maybe even a second set of hands. That sort of weapon is something I'm more familiar with, within my own team. Augment types meant to equip onto each-other. But I do have a bit of a feel for this kind of stuff. Sorting the material, stoking the forge, sharpening the blades..."

She gave a half-step closer, her voice drawing to a whisper.

"Quite the smith, aren't you."

Silver was more than capable of handling the situation, given enough time and resources - and with Angel's help, he'd manage the weapon at some point. Angel knew this, or at least, she believed it... and honestly, it might have been the furthest thing from her mind at this moment. After all?

Largely spurned by the world, still left on a number of wanted posters in Luminas and Terminus alike, damned to the bowels of the underground city, the fox finally found a chance, a fling that she could act on. Seeing the flick of his ear, and even him halfheartedly return the comment, Angel's own tail gave a flick behind her.

”I don’t know if we…”

Even if Silver wanted to finish that thought, the fox wouldn't give him the chance. She'd pull, pressing her forehead right up to his own, briefly looking him eye to eye. And if Silver didn't look on with abject horror, or he didn't just try and push her away?

She'd kiss him. Right on his lips, without apology or delay, wrapping an arm right around the Silvermon's back - and with very little thought other than the passion of the moment.