In a world massively affected by the overconsumption of the Sphere, you and Rudo had your ideas (and also two jars). (2.0k words)
"Eh? Aren't you worried you'd get the grains in your face...?"
"? I've always fixed things like this," Rudo tilts his head in confusion, red eyes following how your hand takes his jar and gives him a respirator and goggles instead.
"We're kind of doing the opposite of fixing it," you chuckled while Rudo looped the straps of his respirator to fix on to his head, briefly constraining his white hair before it returned to its fluffy self like a splash of water.
August was nice enough to let the both of you occupy a corner of his workshop today, which was currently absent with the maniacal yelling that squeezed between your and Rudo's sentences, if not completely overpowering them (at least he was nice enough to try and let the both of you get your words out.)
Allowing the lull in conversation to continue, you continued to sand down the edges of the fish-bowl like jars. The necks of them were previously cut off and placed in the bin August had nearby, which was where you and Rudo were currently hunched over.
There was something about Rudo that made it easy for others, including yourself, to tell what he's thinking now that he's been acquainted with most of the Cleaners. You didn't even need to look at him to know he was burning holes into your fingers, the energy coming out of him in waves was enough. The intervals of the scratching sound in his direction from the sand paper between silence (presumably from following your lead) also made that obvious.
Sanding down the beheaded neck of your jar didn't take you too long, and after a brief swipe of the rim with your gloved index finger, you looked toward him. "Can I see yours?"
"Sure," his eyes widen slightly, since he was pretty sure he hadn't finished his own sanding yet.
You looked over it, performing the same inspection as you did before. The rim was still a little jagged, running rather sharp beneath your gloved finger, but you could say that at least it wasn't the same consistency when you had knocked the neck of your jars out.
"You're being too careful with it," you smiled, handing back his jar and waited for his thick gloves to engulf it. "It's glass, sure, but it won't destroy in your hand with a little bit more elbow grease."
He looks at the jar now returned to him, squinting his large eyes.
"We're still making use of the jar, y'know, just not exactly for its intended purpose. I think you should be well aware kc that as a Giver," you gesture to the bin the two of you are camped around. "It has a little bit more destruction to it than usual, but August is great at using this stuff."
Rudo hummed in response, hoping that your advice comes to fruition once he successfully sands down this jar.
He tightened his grip a little, then stretched his neck as if he would get a better angle for smoothing the rim out. Did the jar feel pain whenever he rubbed at the jagged edges? Or is it like bandaging his hands, where it feels only the slightest better once the pain is constrained? Maybe it's like a haircut instead?
It didn't mold to his whims like clay, but after a few minutes, it might as well have. With the barrier of the sandpaper between the glass and his gloved hands, it definitely felt smoother, even with the slight grooves to it.
Without a verbal go-ahead, he said extended his arm.
"...Good," You nodded, placing down your sandpaper and clattering about away from Rudo's peripheral vision. Before he had the chance to look, you already pulled a drill gun.
If scraping the jar smooth was a hair cut, Rudo didn't want to know what spraying the jars in water and drilling at its round bottom was (a more intense hair cut...?) Fortunately for your convenience and your creative partner's imagination, you didn't take too long.
"Basically perfect!" You exclaimed, and Rudo was pretty sure that the darker corner of August's workshop lit up briefly before you started using a towel to dry the jae. "Y'know diamonds sometimes rain from the Sphere? We managed to find one so we can tip this drill gun, since normal drills usually shatter the whole thing."
"What does August usually do with this left over glass?" He asked, a little distracted by looking at the carcasses of panels and bottles alike of the past.
"He usually melts them down," You respond as the drill gun you were holding lands on the table nearby with a small thud, ignoring his somewhat spooked voice. The towel doesn't even make a noise, and Rudo kind of assumed that you were just clattering about again while he examined the broken down glass. "I think he's trying to experiment with jewelry for his brand...? Something like that."
The clattering stops, and this time he managed to catch a glimpse before you pulled it between the two of you.
"Now for the fun part! ...Sort of," you held two paint brushes on one hand, a small box of assorted paints, and a cup of water. You offered the brush hand toward him.
However, he looked like you just asked him to draw lots in order to head to war.
Your and Rudo's respective paths don't really run into each other very often, and technically the two of you only got acquainted when you saw him sorting through the garbage pile outside of headquarters.
He seemed so in the zone, carefully lowering items with usually a "clunk" to the concrete. To be honest, it almost seemed like he was just taking items out rather than sorting through them.
In impulsive curiosity, you started rummaging through the thrown items beside him: to your knowledge, it wasn't like he particularly cared or noticed.
Then, there it was: the fated two jars that were shaped like fish-bowls that were almost perfectly in-tact despite falling who knows how high. You tapped at his shoulder, holding up one of them. Rudo was right there, after all, and the worst that could happen after exhausting the rest of the Cleaners you've befriended is you end up working alone. "I'm gonna try making something out of these. You wanna come with?"
His eyes darted down to what seemed like a calculator he was holding, then to your jar, then to your face, and cycled through at least three times before, "Sure."
For some reason, that came with your personal assumption that he was in any way creatively competent.
"PFFT—" You cover your mouth mostly to avoid the slobber from escaping once you caught a glimpse of Rudo's handiwork. Hiding your laugh was just impossible.
To be fair for Rudo, the craft required to paint inside the jar rather than outside so the paint was more protected against the elements. Hell, you weren't even at your highest creative potential, with the inverted way of painting the wind chime. That said? it didn't make the disfigured lines and splotches of color on Rudo's any less amusing, though.
"Sor—hah—sorry, sorry," Try to compose yourself! Even through difficulty, prevail! "What are you painting?"
He pressed his lips thinly as he held your gaze. "A dog."
Now that your face didn't feel so stretched by barely containing a grin, you calmly observed his wind chime. You could make out the pointed ears that made it almost look like a cat, its dark nose, and what seems like a smile.
"They seem to smile more here than in the Sphere," He muttered, going over the paint layer he just applied. Naturally, it ended up displacing the paint that was already there since it wasn't dry, so he gave up after a few seconds. "Maybe it's because they know there's nowhere else to get thrown away again."
He dips his paintbrush into the water, following your earlier demonstrated technique of tapping at the rim to get some of the excess off.
A quiet snuck between the two of you, though it was established that there wasn't any more painting to be done. So, Rudo follows up with, "...What's next?"
"Ah," You blinked, and you twisted your torso to reach backward and start your clattering of supplies again. Time passes swiftly, and with a flick of a wrist, he sees you have what looks like metal tubing, string, and paper. You gesture for him to switch workspaces toward the table pulled up near the two of you.
You drop all of what you had in your hand, making sure to prevent four beads from falling from the other side of the table. "We'll let these dry now, and while we wait, we gotta finish the penultimate part!"
"Penultimate...?" Rudo curiously picks up what he thinks to be a metal straw, only to notices that his creative partner was already stringing through the "straw."
You began folding the string in two to form a loop at the end and pushing through a large bead. You tied a knot so the bead wouldn't slip through at gravity's wishes, then slipped the tube through.
"I've seen these wind chimes before when I was on a mission very, very close to Zanka's hometown, actually," you mused. "Even through the walls, you could hear the jingle of them carried by the wind. I actually stopped by a craftsman's shop to watch it in action."
A bead followed close with the "straw" and you tied another knot, eyeballing the decorated jars nearby and guessing the length needed so the tube could make the desired sound. You pointed to the tube, "These are called clappers, and they make the sound... whoops."
You forgot the established idea that Rudo wasn't the best with these activities, as he was trying to pull the tiniest edge of string out from the other side of his clapper after what seems like him bunching it up. Only a laugh spilling from your mouth was enough to snap him out of his focus.
After helping him out, the two of you found yourselves cutting a piece of thick paper and puncturing a hole near the top. As per Rudo fashion, you can feel his grimace once you dipped your brush into paint.
"Hey, it's completely optional!" You waved your hands around, smiling in spite of his deep frown and even more when he sighs in relief.
"Thank you," he huffed, having enough intuition to tie the remaining loose strands of his string around his blank slip of paper. His thick gloves made it a little difficult, but he managed to emerge victorious over the string.
"I think I'll let it dry when we take them outside," You hummed while you did the same as Rudo and tied the finishing touch to your clapper. You reached over to get his jar, and much to his surprise, got up from your chair and started sprinting out of August's workshop before he could finish the first stop.
"Wha—hey!" He yelled out, scrambling to get his jar and chasing after you.
When he was younger, Regto, as much scolding he had done for Rudo scavenging through trash, laid one of many ground rules which was never to run with glass.
Sorry, Regto, he thinks, but he didn't have to leave that in his mind for long. One turn of his head, and he realized that you were only in the hallway, opening one of the windows.
He slipped his clapper through the drilled hole of his jar, then walked up to you, observing how you reached your hand clutching on to the loop of your wind chime outside.
The air was generally contaminated enough in the Ground that it was easy to tell when it was windy with all the dirt and flakes traveling miles from piles upon piles of garbage. Only a small portion of those winds push against the slip you've, but it was enough to create a melody as it swings from your fingers.
Rudo quietly joins your side, doing the same. Without hesitation, his wind chime joins in a duet with yours and contributing a crisper sound. He wasn't sure why you didn't seem so afraid of dropping it, so confident that the sweet notes wouldn't rest.
You spoke up, "Yours sounds so much clearer."
