A short drabble I did on request, with a heavy Steampunk theme. Enjoy!
She glared at him as he worked, bent over his table and his goggles protecting his eyes from the little sparks that flew from whatever he kept poking and prodding at with the series of tiny tools laid out beside him. It seemed almost strange that such large hands could craft anything so tiny and intricate, with all that detail and beauty. That was, if he was working on what she thought he was. Mostly, every time he worked, he made little clockwork insects, animals and, occasionally, pieces of jewellery that he posed against her neck for reference.
The man was a master, she had to give him that. And even though she'd never be caught dead watching him, she did like seeing how he made the little things.
It wasn't anything to do with the man himself, oh no. It was what he made. That was all.
The fireplace sent dancing shadows across the room, the orange flames dancing across the gears decorating his boots and the tinted glass of his goggles in a way that would almost be poetic if it wasn't featuring the merciless killer that he was.
And if she wasn't in a cage, her wrists bound with double twisted metal twine, no doubt of his own creation. It'd be worth admiring if it didn't hurt so fucking much.
The sparks faded for a moment, and he pushed the bronze goggles up into his already messy black hair so as to properly admire his work. The device tinkled delicately, the perfectly crafted joints clicking as it began to move slowly.
"Careful now," he said quietly. "I'm not quite finished yet."
The device clicked sharply in response, as though it was impatient with him. Its own creator. How painfully ironic. He chuckled at it, like a parent at a defiant child, and picked up one of the strange coloured minute scales that he had in a small pile beside the miniscule nuts and bolts. She could barely see them from her cage but she knew they were there from how they reflected in the firelight.
"What colour should they be?" He said suddenly, turning and glancing over at her.
Again, she was struck by how brilliantly blue his eyes were and how handsome he was. He could have been interesting and potentially a lover...if he wasn't insane.
She didn't respond and looked away at her bound hands. He was silent for a long moment, staring at his captive before turning back to his work.
"I think brown. Hazel, just like yours," he said quietly, picking up one of the scales and laying it against his creation, which was staying very patiently still while he gently crafted...whatever the hell it was he was making this time.
Usually he'd be facing her while he worked to keep an eye on her, but this time he'd kept his back to her. She doubted that he trusted her enough to not watch her...so what the hell was he doing? Why did have to hide it from her?
"You have lovely eyes, have I ever told you that?" he said, delicately moving the scales onto his tiny creation.
"Let me go."
He laughed quietly. "Do you ever say anything else?"
"Well, I suppose there's always that."
He got up and walked toward her cage, his hand held in a fist at his side. She pressed herself into the far corner of her cage, eyes wide and watching him as he crouched to stare at her.
She could see the madness in his eyes underneath the flecks of cold metal and ice of his irises, a chill running up her spine at the sight. He frightened her more as each day passed. No one could really blame her.
He did kidnap her and lock her in a cage, saying nothing for days while he worked on his little creations.
"What do you think?"
Amanda's heart leapt into her throat as he opened his hand to show her what he'd been so determinedly working on these past few hours. The perfectly crafted hazel eyes in his hand sparked and blinked with copper eyelids, rolling around to stare at her.
Her mouth opened into a scream and she threw herself as far away from the front of her cage as she could, away from the fucking madman holding the clockwork eyes in his outstretched hand.
Hoffman merely smiled. "She'll look just like you when I'm done."