So for those of you who don’t know (and really, you should count yourselves very blessed if this is the case) I have a character named Valentine Capp. Vosh to the people who really like him, Capp to those that want his head on a pike, and VAL-in-TINE to the people who are working with him and also want his head on a pike. He’s a “finder” which means he goes and locates both people and objects for an employer. He doesn’t retrieve them, he just locates them.
Think of him as a tracker/archeologist/researcher and you’ve pretty much got his job description. This dovetails with his storyline arc/quest he’s meshed in rather well. Ah, but for that, well you’ll have to buy the book or short story collection. I’m leaning towards a bunch of short stories that feature him moving towards his goal. Keep checking back for updates.
Anyway, Valentine Capp has gathered a handful of admirers. So many in fact, that in my Scribes group, he was set up to answer questions from his fan base. Now, right there, that is a scary sentence. Valentine Capp has a fan base.
Right, moving on from that shiver-inducing thought, time to interview ole’ carrot top.
Valentine leans and sprawls over my table. Gears, wires, needle nose pliers, delicate thin awl like things, clamps, several ‘third hands’ and other pointed and finely calibrated tools litter the workspace. He is bent over his metal arm, which has the outter housing removed and his nimble, left hand fingers are gently prodding wires into the mesh all ready there. He’s pulling a filament through the spaghetti of connection with a metal hook no thicker than an eyelash. His hair, brilliantly red as always, is cut close to his skull. I can see his pale scalp between the individual soldier strands. Is that why several people have asked about his hair recently? Is he going bald? Are the hairs there not as thick as they used to be? He looked up at me, large hazel eyes snapping with copper-green fire.
“I’m not going bald” he says “And Millard can keep such thoughts to himself. Soon as I’m done with this, ole’ Mill and I are going to have a long talk.” I blink and hedge around the table, so the span of it is between us. It’s always a little disconcerting when he knows things that I thought had been kept from him. I’m not worried about Millard though, he can take care of himself without breaking a sweat. Though sometimes he has to break heads.
“You know, ” I say after watching him pull out a soldering tool that has a filamental tip “There are others who had questions too. Other Scribes had things to ask you. It’s not just Millard who is curious. And, you know, Millard likes you.” There is a grunt from Valentine and he pauses, the tip of the tool glowing faintly and casting shadows of light on the reflective surface of the table. “I mean, there’s Hannah” I plow onward. “She wants to know why you are always in trouble?” I hold my breath and as he continues to solder.
“I’m not always in trouble” he said quietly, his gaze on the spaghetti of his arm. “But I go and find things. People sometimes don’t want their secrets disturbed. Not that I blame them much, everyone’s got a right to privacy. I try hard not to take calls that are going to invade personal space of a person. ” His mouth twitches faintly, showing a new scar on the top lip running to the side on the right. “Elves, of course, aren’t ‘people’. But some of them are mighty fine, and right hospitable. At least in Elenath they are. ”