#baronyofthesilverwolf

Now, this thing is a BEAUT. Vintage, commercial, old school mixer, must weight 50 pounds at least.

"Need help lifting it?" She asks the nocker.. a cautious tone

If functional, it could churn pounds of dough at once.... but it's a bit dusty now, clearly not touched in some time.

A low whistle. "Ain't THAT a thing..."

A hurk as she tugs at it, but she DOES manage to heft it onto the counter.

"See, the last time I tried to run it, it made the most terrible noise and just about rattled itself off the counter."

She pokes at it, and turns various cranks and dials.

"There's something... I'll need to take this apart... listen?" Turning the manual crank back and forth over a quarter-arc.

"Wow, Thistle can lift" Impressed

"Oh, but... Thistle, a moment." Marigold fusses. "Here, take it over.... " With a bustle of boggan efficiency, she's cleared the small breakfast nook and put an old, worn tablecloth up on the table, and made space on the nearby counters.

"If you open it up here, you won't get any grease on my good countertop, or in the food surfaces."

"Oh, right. Yeah, don't wanna get that kinda oil on the food..."

"I need a screwdriver..."

"Phillips or regular?"

"Yes."

Marigold winks to Gwen when Thistle isn't looking - she knows where the toolbox is.

She raps on the motor with her knobby knuckles, listening to the metallic sound it makes.

"On it" Gwen raises to get the toolbox

The phone rings... "Pardon, I have to take this..." And Marigold leaves Thistle to her work!

And Gwen returns to see her mom is gone, then shrugs "Toolbox for general hold use. Got both kind of screwdrivers"

"Can't just have one or the other... let me see..." She opens the box, searches, and retrieves tools. Her fingers have been itching, and the urge to do something is now impossible to ignore. This isn't art - this is just... she can do this!

"Hold this, Stonewall, we're gonna take off the chassis and it might be stuck..." Gwen is apparently being recruited!

Gwen actually smiles just a bit at that and nods. She'll be happy to play pitcrew or ..maybe tool caddy, whatever it takes

Soon enough, the entire mixer is in pieces and laid out for inspection.

The nocker has a running commentary about this and that, grumbling and cursing. Perhaps one would think her upset, but her spirals have a cheerful orangey-red glow.

Gwen nods at the commentary and cursing as if it were sage wisdom, not talking much, she doesn't want to ruin this or for that matter distract too much

"Can you BELIEVE these fargeing nincompoops put the bearings in a widdershins rotation? What, were they trying to appeal to the moon goodess? Feh! I could make this better..."

"I can't believe it" She says, wondering if Widdershins rotation in devices is even a thing

"RIGHT? But see, what if I..." More technobabble. "Hold this!" Gwen is handed a sprocket.

She holds it dutifully

Thistle works away - Gwen could probably escape without the nocker noticing, as she gets deeply engrossed with the inner workings of the machine.

She's tempted. Everything she says is wrong it feels like. Willy is too sharp, Thistle seems fragile...The poor troll does NOT get nockers. But no, she'll help, quietly handing stuff and being supportive.

Well, Gwen doesn't SEEM to be doign anything wrong right now.

And several of Thistle's Never's have settled on the troll to watch. (Those who get too close to tricksy bits of disassembly get swatted away!)

Gwen raises a brow at the one on top of her head with legs coming down her forehead Seriously?

Happy chimes and nonsense sing-song from the little sillies.

"It's like yule comes early... and with less dignity" She mutters

"Yeah, they are always chipper..."

"Ah-HA! Lookit this!" She shoves a widget in Gwen's face. It looks like a widget.

"Huh" She looks at it "Good eyes" I have no idea what that is

"Right!? Can you imagine?"

And, with determination, she is bodging things back together. Gwen is no expert, but she's not sure if a crescent wrench is meant to be used as a hammer...

"I can't imagine" She agrees ,and she can't so that's at least honest.

It takes a few hours - everything is taken apart, cleaned, organized.... a few more incredulous declarations of the state of things, and grumbled threats if the parts refuse to comply... stuff is sanded, shaved, soldered, stitched...

A troll brow rises

"No.. chance of shrapnel when this is used right?" THat's her MOM who will be using this

"It's a blender, not a bomb..."

"And I'm gonna improve it."

"Gotcha.. " A nod "Seemed to be a piece of crap before so have at"