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Coal was a dirty thing. Burning with dark clouds of soot and smoke.

Coal was also necessary in this day and age. It was what burned the fires to fuel steam. Steam of course was the most important discovery in the last couple of centuries. Very few people could think of anything that had made their lives run so much easier and more comfortably. So long as you asked the right person.

Thomas Newcomen was praised, though often not by name. People forgot about him, and the machine he built in seventeen-ten. It was the beginning of an era that would shape the world. Steam was used in all aspects of life now. From airships to sea faring ships. From the home to the office. Inventors were well respected, the patent offices filling up quickly with ideas.

Beyond the soot-stained skies, there was one draw back. The rich became richer and the number of poor and homeless was growing each year. Those with money rarely gave charity, only concerned with anything but lining their pockets further.

Cabs ushered their horses down the thickly populated main streets, taking people this way and that at near dizzying speeds. Airships left the ports on regular intervals, as well as the trains and sea-ships. The city was a writhing population, fluctuating with every moment.

Wind swept across a dirty street sending Lilura Ibarra's hat flying. She looked over her shoulder at the lacey fashion piece and shrugged her shoulders. A slight girl, she lifted her chin, holding up her skirts as she walked. She had an uncomfortable look about her, as though she did not feel comfortable in what she wore.

The dress was a simple navy blue, with narrow shoulders and a trim waist. It made her hips look larger than they were, and the corset gave her a somewhat ample breast. She had rosey cheeks and pale skin - but it didn't seem to be a fashion choice. Instead of the pale or raven hair often assume to be English, atop her head sat a pile of bright ginger hair. Freckles showed across her exposed skin, spreading across her nose like a sign of her unfortunate birth as either an Irish woman or a Scot.

Stepped uneasily onto the street, her gold flecked green eyes darting this way and that. She watched the horses as she attempted to make it across the busy street. She did not step with confidence, nor with any skill. The boots under her dress were surely pinching her heels and toes.

Another cold wind blew, and tousled the curly hair and she stood at the side of the street, looking utterly lost and very unlady-like.

Calic was unnaturally clumsy, despite his station. A pair of goggles settled over green eyes, the sandy-blonde haired mechanic scrambled along the sidewalk and ran right into the girl that was standing there. He did manage, however, to take her arm as he was falling back, and release it just in time so that she did not fall backwards, or forwards, but would simply totter. Calic however was less fortunate. He landed right on his rump, a few tools of his trade coming loose from their places in his belt and clanging to the sidewalk.

"Oh, cripes! I'm sorry, are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt you. You're not hurt, are you?" He quickly picked up his tools, stuffing them back into their specific pockets. Getting to his feet, he brushed himself off and held out a gloved hand. "I'm Calic. Sorry for running into you, miss." The mechanic really looked just like a mechanic. There was no hiding this guy's work. Long-sleeved sweater-jacket had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the zipper pulled up all the way to his neck. Baggy cargo pants with numerous pockets helped hold all those gadgets and gizmos of his, and boots were his choice of footwear. Plain brown boots.

Nothing fancy. He was just a little...quirky.

He stood there leaning against the railing of the great seavessel as it made it's way into port. He watched quietly as crowds of people were waving to their loved ones on board returning from business trips, vacations and the like. He sighed lightly not having anyone himself in the crowd. As the ship came to a halt, the crewhands scurried about making sure everything that was needed was in place. Lastly being the gang plank. After they finished putting it out, he reached down and grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder and made his way towards the gang plank. In this world of steam, his choice of attire made him stick out a bit. Loose fitting Cotten pants with chains dangling from them. A tank top and long tench coat. Along with stylish gloves that looked like they belonged on a ballroom floor rather than on the hands of a random traveler. He slowly made his way down the pank and into the bustling crowds as he made his way through them to the somewhat less empty street.

Lilura's mouth opened the moment she felt herself totter, letting out a string of words that should never be repeated. She turned to face her assailant, taking a look over him. She didn't seem to be too angry, instead a smile twitched up the corner of her pink lips. She shook her head, "Don't be sorry boy. You obviously weren't trying to throw me over." She let out a little laugh, bringing her left hand up.

Well, she would have, if there was indeed a hand. Instead a scarred stub rubbed across a spotted cheek. She put out her right hand to him, "I'm Lilura." Her hand was turned on it's side, her thumb up. She wasn't looking for a dainty greeting, instead she seemed to be looking to shake his hand. She shifted her weight and rubbed across her face again. Ladies around them were giving her dirty looks, as we some gentlemen.

Looking up at the sound of the ship arriving. Her eyes lingered there for a long moment before turning back o Calic, "You seem the sort who could help me. I'm looking for a place. It's called the Phoenix Nest."

The Nest, as it was oft referee to, was a bar where down and out inventors drank their woes and the last of their coin. Not many who ventured in, would come out with their heart in the same place. It was where the imagination went to die.

Calic gazed fondly at the ships coming in to dock, then looked to the female. He shook her hand with a smile, though that disappeared when she mentioned The Nest. He motioned a cross over his chest, as if she'd said some demonic word. "Woman, what would you ever want to go there for?! It's the most terrible place I've ever laid eyes on. Only lilly-livered yellowbellies go there, and you don't look like one to me!"

He tsked softly. "If you have a man waiting for you there, you can forget it. He's not worth your time anyways if he's at The Nest."

He walked quietly towards the streets, his bag slung over his shoulder. He quietly made his way past a couple that looked like they had nothing in common but stopped as bits of their conversation caught his ear.

"My apologies...but did you too happen to mention The Nest? Coincidence. That is where I'm headed."

He then looked towards the mechanic.

"And to be technical, 'Yellowbelly' is a term more appropriate for cowardice. Not bravery, stupidity or foolishness."

He would then chuckle softly.

Lilura laughed softly as Kyle came into their conversation, "I am one of the fools would like to drink there. I have questions of some of the former inventors there. The Nest is where my father used to find assistance." She smoothed her dress. She looked at Calic's face, studying him. She could clearly see that he was a good looking young man. She offered her hand to Kyle, "I'm Lilura Ibarra." She smiled, turning to look at the other, near stranger, "Will you accompany me, Calic? I promise not to let you get hurt by a drunk man who's had his livelihood stolen away from him."

Calic looked to the male who came, and gave his head a slight shake. "Nah, I meant 'lillylivered' as in, they've given up. So they're cowards for giving up! A lotta guys come there to just let themselves fall to ruin, when they're better than that." He shrugged a little. He smiled however at the introduction from Lilura. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. What would you like me to call you, by the way?" A soft chuckle was given when she promised not to let him get hurt. He pulled out a wrench from his belt and flipped it around in his hand a couple times. "Don't worry, I can handle myself. It'll be just fine. I would worry about you honestly, if only because you are dressed as such."

He looked to the man and gave a nod. "Then, shall all three of us continue on?"

He watched the man flip the wrench and smirked a bit.

"Continuing on sounds like a good idea. Though ya might need something a bit more effective then a wrench if someone who's drunk enough comes at ya. You can borrow one of mine of that situation comes."

He would then reach over his shoulder and pat his bag with his free hand. The bag was actually decently large and ran from his shoulder to about mid theigh. He would then look to the lady then to her hand as a light chuckle escaped his lips.

"A normal handshake in comparison to the knuckle up held hand of a high class woman who would dress in a manner equivalent or greater to how you are dressed now? Going to a dive like the nest dressed in such attire? My. You are a curious one. The names Kyle. A pleasure to meet you."

He would then take her hand in his and shake it gently before turning to Calic.

"And your quite obviously a mechanic...ironic. I may have a little project you might be able to give me a hand with as I'm not very mechanically inclined myself. I'll show ya later."