Steampunk Ladies

Right. There were three items in this post. Blogspot ate one of them. I had a massive sulk and refused to write up the missing part. So here's two pair of earrings-- perhaps next week I'll get around to the others.



Okay, so not precisely steampunk, but definitely victorian vintage inspired. These are the first three in a new series I'm (slowly) working on. It's half jewelry, half fiction and it's stupid how much I love doing it.




Edith Rose -- $15 USD

South Dakota, 1885

She swore when she moved west she'd never let another person call her Edy. That was a name for a school marm, for the shy spinster woman that she was in Connecticut. It was not a name that would go on a byline-- and that was why she left, wasn't it? Newspapers in South Dakota wanted her, against all odds. West was a new chance and she was determined to be called Edith.

But when the stagecoach came to a sudden stop and the door was thrown open, she felt the countless hours of bravado diminish and pure instinct take over. There was a gun in her face, a demand for money, and when she reached into her bag for her pocketbook she grabbed the little revolver instead.

"Christ almighty," the driver said when the masked man was dead and his accomplice had fled into the night at the sound of the gun. " 'Scuse my language, lady, but I wasn't expecting all that from a little thing like you. What's your name anyhow, Miss?"

Old habit took over. "I'm Edy Rose," she said, and her voice didn't shake. "But please, call me Edith."






Moira Flannery-- $15 USD

Boston, 1879

"What do you want?" The man who had walked into the small room Moira somewhat idealistically called a shop was foppish, with pale golden hair and clothes that were barely suited to walk the streets in, let alone enter a dirty steamsmith's shop.

He looked at her cooly, but made no sign that he was offended or even surprised. "I'm looking for a steamsmith," he said. "All my inquiries have lead  me here. And I pay well."

No nonsense, then. Moira felt herself warming to the man in the doorway. "What sort of work?" It didn't really matter-- whatever the work, she could do it. 

"Work that is... not strictly legal," he said. A look of uncertainty passed over his face while he spoke, only to be carefully schooled back into his original, slightly arrogant calm. Moira smiled.

"Then you've come to the right place." She walked to the door. "I'm Moira Flannery, and I can build anything you can dream up."