Alright, my first fic is an ES fic. I own nothing but my own. I apologize for lack of better descriptions. I fail. Enjoy. Also, a little back story: Faira is like 19/18 and her mother died a few years back leaving Faira is LOADS and LOADS of money. The tinkerer slash inventor then decides to scoop up the money and move elsewhere. Thus, finding the mansion up for sale. The mansion is up for sale! You ask, well, yes, yes it is. The bank presumed Edward dead and now it's up for sale. But he's not, so what does Faira think of this? REVIEWS AND CRITICISM WELCOME (:
Enjoy.
The white voltswagon bug came to slow stop outside the large black iron gate. Faira looked up at the looming gate and couldn't help smiling. The place was old, and completely black. It looked like a toy. How she'd love to tinker and fix the place up. She drove along a long wavy path before she came to the actual mansion. The represenative from the bank wasn't here yet. Faira opened her car door, and stepped out. She dusted her pants off. She wore black dress pants and and buttoned white dress shirt, both dirtied and stained. She wore a regular t-shirt under neath. The dress cloths belonged to her father. She preferred these over girly dresses. She found that the age's fashion was grotesque. Her hair was long and pretty straight, she had choppy short bangs, cut by her self. Eye's dark brown like her hair hid behind a pair of 'granny' glasses. "Well, this looks homely." said she, sarcastically. Suddenly something caught her eye. Something moved by an afar window. Maybe the bank represenative was here..
Faira started for the entrance. She kept staring at the windows, giving each a turn. When she reached the door, she stopped looking figuring it was her over active imagination there. She tried the door and found it was unlocked. How strange. Fair strolled right on in, "Hello?" she called to no one particular. For a while she just explored, marveling at the mansions interior. She already decided to buy it. An abrupt noise caught her attention, though. "Who is there?" She said defensively. She turned sharply, in all different directions. Looking for the source of the noise. It was like scissors opening and closing. Then a sound of shuffling footsteps. "Hello?" Faira called again. From outside in the hallway, a man walked into the room she was in. "Hello." He said, his voice soft with uncertainy. His hair was black and stuck up in places. He wore a full body skin tight leather outfit with different zippers and and buckles. Where his hands were supposed to be there were long blades, like pairs of scissors. "Are those your hands?" Faira asked, forgetting her manners and staring. "Yes." the man said, softly, and like the word was difficult to say.
"Who are you?" She asked, "What is your name? How did you get here? Where did you come from?" Suddenly, the man seemed over-whelmed, he shuffled out the door flexing his scissory fingers. Faira gaped, and followed after, making a mental note not to ask so many questions. She hurried after him down the hall, "Do you live here?" She decided to start simple with yes and no questions. There was something different about the man. He nodded 'yes'. "How did you end up with scissors for hands?" She asked, hoping for an answer. The man swallowed, "I'm not finished."
For a long moment, Faira was puzzled. She followed the man down a corridor to a room full of books, various scultpures, papers, and other miscelaneous objects. She noticed notes and sketched, as if someone were developing something. She recognized the sketches. The man was an invention. "Not finished..Your hands! Someone never gave you correct hands!" Faira felt a sudden surge of happiness, excitement. As an inventor herself, she's be over joyed to study the notes. Even perhaps finish this man. His poor paled face bores horrible scars, most likely from his hands. She got an idea, she could buy the house and finish the man. But first, the man needed a name. "What is your name?" She asked, walking up to him, he was standing over a picture of an older man. Probably the creator of this scarred one standing before her. "Edward." He said after a moment.
Edward, what a nice name. Fair thought. "Well, Edward, do you want normal hands?" Edward stood, not responding for a long moment, as if he were in thought. There was a time he'd jump to the chance for normal hands, but the idea wasn't right to him. Edward turned to Faira, she looked at him. He was taller, and could use a comb. Hesitantly, she reached up to touch his face. Her hand jumped at first, and Edward almost turned away. "Finish me." He spoked, as she ran her fingers over his smooth scarred face. "Alright!" Faira said gleefully. She wanted to get started right away, but first she'd have to study the notes. She had no idea whatsoever on how she's going to do this. Did she just step into something she could handle?
The faint sound of a car door slamming knocked Faira to reality, back from her imagines of tinkering. "The bank represenative!" She said in a urgent hushed voice. "Who?" Edward asked. "No one. Listen, stay here, I'll be right back." Faira instructed, and he nodded. Faira then rushed back downstairs and otuside. The bank represenative was a fat man with a beard. He seemed like he'd rather be at home eating. Faira was disgusted. "Eugh, hello." She said, ignoring his offer to shake hands and making her disgust apparent. "Who lived her before me?" She asked quickly, before he could say anything. "Oh, no one in particular. An elderly man. Died of old age, perhaps." He grumbled. "Let me show you around the place."
"No, it's okay. I've already seen it." Faira said, and began to pull out her wallet. She always carried large amount of money with her. She didn't trust the bank with one cent. "How much?" she asked. The fat man looked awe struck. "Well, man, there's paper work and other stuff the fill out first." Faira shook her head, "I'll throw in an extra hundred for you if you make it work. I'll pay full, in cash, right now. " All her money came from a large inheritance from her mother, who died when Faira was 15. The man gave her a figure. A large one, and she suspected he threw on another thousand to take for himself, along with the extra hundred. You greedy little fat, fat man, Faira thought, glaring at him. She watched the man drive away then went back to the mansion.
Faira sat on a stool, hunched over some notes. She was becoming frustrated. Yesterday, she bought the mansion from the fat bank man, and this morning she began to analyze the notes. They were so hard to understand, the hand writing was difficult. So far, she'd come to see that Edward came from an idea to make a man. So, was he a robot of some kind? The first robot in the history of man? That's what these sketches implied. But, Edward could eat, and his skin felt real. Faira sighed, and shoved herself away from the notes. She'd take a break. Edward sat on the ground across the room, watching her. His hands lay on the ground, limp. He flexed his fingers once, and she jumped slightly. His eye's widened a little in alarm, "I'm sorry." He said, he started to get up to leave. She felt sad, "No, don't be. I'm just a little jumpy. Being in a new place and all." For a moment, she thought, he stood where he was sitting a moment ago. The place was full of cobwebs, dust, and rust. The attic had a caved in roof, and she supposed that was where Edward slept because there was a ragedy bed with hay with newspaper clippings on the wall. He spent a lot of time up there, Faira had only been here a day and that was apparent. "Do you have any friends?" She asked. Edward instantly said one name, "Kim." Faira wondered who that was, and maybe she'd meet them sometime. "Can I meet this Kim?" Edward's face went blank. As if in very deep thought, truth be told, he was. After a moment, Faira got up and went over to him. "Edward?" she reached up to his face, "Are you there?"
Of course he was there, but was he mentally there? "Edward?" She demanded, and he seemed to snap back. "Yes?"
"Can I meet Kim?" Faira persisted. "I don't know." He replied, truthfully.