Who Let These Two Handle a Smithy

Wibble and Wobble looked over the pile of materials they had put together in their ‘hiding cave’, a decently sized underwater hole in the rock wall which led up to a surprisingly dry and relatively flat space the two have been using as storage for anything they simply didn’t want to give away.

It had recently been getting more full than it typically was, and it had all started, as most unusual things in Wobble’s life usually do, with an off-handed comment from Wibble.

“Do you think we could make our own amicabot?”

At the time of the question Wobble had simply shrugged. She didn’t doubt that the two of them could figure out how to do such a thing provided enough time and resources, but she also didn’t understand why they’d put the amount of effort needed for that into something she hadn’t seen any benefit in.

About two months of hoarding any resource she knew would be useful in making an amicabot later, she admitted to her sibling that she may have developed a problem, as she kept hoarding useful parts instead of giving them away as she usually would, to which Wibble had only enthusiastically responded with “me too!”

So. The pile of materials. Which at this point was towering over the both of them, and probably still would even if Wobble were for whatever reason be stacked on top of Wibble, which honestly was a little depressing since there was no way all that litter was just from the destruction of the extinction event, those predecessors Wobble had only ever seen videos and heard tales of must have really liked throwing trash in the ocean- wait, no, getting off track. Head on straight, Wobble, there’s a giant pile of what could potentially become a new amicabot in front of you.

The pink amica turned to look at her sibling, who flashed a brilliant smile towards her. So, they have materials… now they need to figure out how to actually put everything together. Easier said than done. Or thought than done, since Wobble hadn’t actually said anything, since she doesn’t say much, really. Her thoughts usually run too long for anyone to make sense of anything she tries to convey and just causes others to get annoyed and confused, except Wibble, they always understand, maybe because they were built together and wasn’t there something important Wobble was thinking about before nearly going on an internal tangent about how often she goes on tangents?

The amicabot. Which was currently only a pile of scrap and a dream.

“We’ll have to get someone to actually clean and smelt this together into proper components, we can’t build a working body out of a pile of trash” she informed her sibling.

“Or. We could learn how to smelt it ourselves. I know a bot with a furnace we could borrow!”

Wobble was kind of envious of how simply Wibble could just shoot out ridiculous statements like that. Sure, the two aquatic bots with no legs and maybe about 3 feet of height between them working a smithy. Like she’d ever even entertain that idea.

...

“PUT THE FUCKING THING DOWN!”

“IT’LL JUST SPILL EVERYWHERE IF I DROP IT!”

“I SAID PUT IT DOWN NOT THROW IT DOWN, IT’S WARPING YOUR GODDAMN HANDS”

Some molten metal and and a shameful visit to the mechanic to get a pair of melted hands replaced later, The twins agreed it would probably be best to just ask the bot who owns the smithy to handle turning the scrap metal into proper pieces for them, to not risk any more cases of melting more than intended.