A weary mood hung over the smith as he ambled down the cobbled road back to his forge, his mind churning on the proceedings of his break. He knew he was terrible at socializing, it was something he'd worked on for years, but to have done something so brash and full of avarice when he knew the feelings of another" A tired sigh escaped him as he pushed through the door of that storefront, a small collection of bells chiming as they announced his entrance.
"I..I'll be right there!" A harried voice carried through the doorway behind the counter, a bit of clatter and muffled cursing before a young man with shoulder length curly brown hair emerged wearing a soot stained leather apron and a pair of thick leather gloves that reached halfway up his forearms. "Welcome to the Right Tool Forge, I'm Trever, Ho....Petar!" Where the hells have you been!" That forced friendly demeanor crumbled as the youth saw the older smith.
"Break." Spoken simply as he walked past the younger man stepping down into the anteroom where he'd change out his gloves and tie on a leather apron of his own. Stepping into the workshop now he'd move over to the forge, the abandoned piece of iron that was apparently being thinned down to make nails taken up as he turned to the coke pit....and stopped. A twitch of annoyance graced that heavy brow.
"Don't blow me off Petar!" Trevor growled as he followed after the smith. "You know exactly what I mean! We're up to our necks in orders and you leave on a four hour break! What the hells were you..." Steely gray eyes fell on the thing that the older smith now scowled at: a cat sized drake that perched happily on the lip of the forge. "Did you get a pet!?" The young mans tone split half between shocked surprise and marveled excitement.
This only drew an angry scowl from the other. "No, this dam'd thin's been follow'n mae e'er since..." A thought, probably best not to mention where he'd been taking a break, "I foun' i' alon' mae wander'ns!"
"Following you?" An incredulous tone crept on those words as the young man approached the small drakin, glove pulled off to offer a hand for the creature to sniff. "Cooome ooon. The only thing that follows you around is the smell of cheap liquor and trouble!" Small golden eyes looked at the offered hand, a sniff or two perhaps taken before the creature returned it's gaze to the older smith. That was curious.
"Aye, well, trouble." Spoken simply as he pushed the length of iron into the bed of coals, free hand grabbing up a hammer as he began to work the bellows with his foot. Those golden eyes bobbed up and down with each step only drawing a glower from the older man.
Trevor quirked a brow to the man."So you want me to believe that a creature that you dislike decided to follow you here despite all your.....warm manner....and you allowed it?"
"I didn' 'llow i'....i' jus' sorta happened tha way..." It would be a wool sweeter sort of day in hell before he'd admit that he'd been preoccupied with his thoughts....even colder before he'd consider sharing those thoughts with the busy body apprentice.
The youth lifted his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, don't tell..." The glare shot at the apprentice was simply ignored, the young man obviously used to such displays though whether that was a good thing or not was up for debate. "So, what?s it named?"
A twitch of thick brow, a flare of temper, the smith dropped the piece he worked on as he turned to let the young man have what fore. But, a sudden thought streaked before him. "What do you think it's named?" Among other things that the man had been mulling over was a mystery that bothered him greatly: why did he seem to know what to call the creature" This didn't happen to be one of his many derisive nicknames or judgmental monikers, but rather what seemed like a name that appeared in his mind like a vanguard raindrop: Zasir Thiek'Siel. He'd never seen the drakin before the thing crawled into his lap that afternoon and yet that name was already in his mind as if he were meeting some long lost acquaintance. And that wasn't a possibility because the smith knew for a fact that just about every encounter with dragonkin he'd had in his life ended in the creatures a.) trying to eat him and b.) dieing. These deeper thoughts however vanished as azures took note of the gleam of mirth in the young man's eyes.
"Lil Peta!" The lad didn't have a clue. Not of the creatures name nor of common sense. If he did know the creatures name than he'd have said such....blurted it out from the depths of nowhere like he had. But he didn't which only worried the older man more.
And if the lad had had common sense he would never have mocked the smith knowing his history....particularly when he was within hands reach. The smack resounded in the workshop, a curse escaping the apprentice and the cat sized drakin simply yawned and fell asleep atop that stone forge.
"I..I'll be right there!" A harried voice carried through the doorway behind the counter, a bit of clatter and muffled cursing before a young man with shoulder length curly brown hair emerged wearing a soot stained leather apron and a pair of thick leather gloves that reached halfway up his forearms. "Welcome to the Right Tool Forge, I'm Trever, Ho....Petar!" Where the hells have you been!" That forced friendly demeanor crumbled as the youth saw the older smith.
"Break." Spoken simply as he walked past the younger man stepping down into the anteroom where he'd change out his gloves and tie on a leather apron of his own. Stepping into the workshop now he'd move over to the forge, the abandoned piece of iron that was apparently being thinned down to make nails taken up as he turned to the coke pit....and stopped. A twitch of annoyance graced that heavy brow.
"Don't blow me off Petar!" Trevor growled as he followed after the smith. "You know exactly what I mean! We're up to our necks in orders and you leave on a four hour break! What the hells were you..." Steely gray eyes fell on the thing that the older smith now scowled at: a cat sized drake that perched happily on the lip of the forge. "Did you get a pet!?" The young mans tone split half between shocked surprise and marveled excitement.
This only drew an angry scowl from the other. "No, this dam'd thin's been follow'n mae e'er since..." A thought, probably best not to mention where he'd been taking a break, "I foun' i' alon' mae wander'ns!"
"Following you?" An incredulous tone crept on those words as the young man approached the small drakin, glove pulled off to offer a hand for the creature to sniff. "Cooome ooon. The only thing that follows you around is the smell of cheap liquor and trouble!" Small golden eyes looked at the offered hand, a sniff or two perhaps taken before the creature returned it's gaze to the older smith. That was curious.
"Aye, well, trouble." Spoken simply as he pushed the length of iron into the bed of coals, free hand grabbing up a hammer as he began to work the bellows with his foot. Those golden eyes bobbed up and down with each step only drawing a glower from the older man.
Trevor quirked a brow to the man."So you want me to believe that a creature that you dislike decided to follow you here despite all your.....warm manner....and you allowed it?"
"I didn' 'llow i'....i' jus' sorta happened tha way..." It would be a wool sweeter sort of day in hell before he'd admit that he'd been preoccupied with his thoughts....even colder before he'd consider sharing those thoughts with the busy body apprentice.
The youth lifted his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, don't tell..." The glare shot at the apprentice was simply ignored, the young man obviously used to such displays though whether that was a good thing or not was up for debate. "So, what?s it named?"
A twitch of thick brow, a flare of temper, the smith dropped the piece he worked on as he turned to let the young man have what fore. But, a sudden thought streaked before him. "What do you think it's named?" Among other things that the man had been mulling over was a mystery that bothered him greatly: why did he seem to know what to call the creature" This didn't happen to be one of his many derisive nicknames or judgmental monikers, but rather what seemed like a name that appeared in his mind like a vanguard raindrop: Zasir Thiek'Siel. He'd never seen the drakin before the thing crawled into his lap that afternoon and yet that name was already in his mind as if he were meeting some long lost acquaintance. And that wasn't a possibility because the smith knew for a fact that just about every encounter with dragonkin he'd had in his life ended in the creatures a.) trying to eat him and b.) dieing. These deeper thoughts however vanished as azures took note of the gleam of mirth in the young man's eyes.
"Lil Peta!" The lad didn't have a clue. Not of the creatures name nor of common sense. If he did know the creatures name than he'd have said such....blurted it out from the depths of nowhere like he had. But he didn't which only worried the older man more.
And if the lad had had common sense he would never have mocked the smith knowing his history....particularly when he was within hands reach. The smack resounded in the workshop, a curse escaping the apprentice and the cat sized drakin simply yawned and fell asleep atop that stone forge.