Topic: Approach and Application

blackbird

Date: 2007-04-25 22:53 EST
Terra was a noble woman, who stood her ground and was not afraid of taking chances. She knew one being fearless or being daring were separate natures, and that she was the former, and it had predisposed her to supporting freedom and avoiding friction. She did not coax unto herself 'the against', she did not struggle. The only ropes that burnt her hands as she lost her grip were those within herself when putting others before her and consequently missing out <eyes closed, breath in and out, backed into a wall;"move on", she urged herself, gently> What had led her from her home, muddied her few garments and emboldened her. Blessings wore disguises, and she had been one herself, to those fragile little birds, even the great ones who spread their wings but were easily shot down, unpegged, slot. She was a nondescript blackbird, familiar with the greenery of forests, deep in their humid pastures, heavy with moisture, away from the world.


But everyone changes in character. Can evolve. Should, evolve, if given the nourishment, the conditions.


With her deep blue cloak billowing about her, she stood before the Forge, eyes not masking the thoughts behind them. She was careful to think on this, to be cautioned. A bow of her head and she walked within its gates, eyes downcast, and hands clasped before her. She walked slowly, boots a crisp noise on the damp ground from recent rain, the night she had arrived. It lingered, the fresh, revitalising scent of mulch and festivals, hinting at rebirth. She smiled as she walked. An impressive figure with her french horsehoe braid, tightened with scarlet twine, unspoilt coffee, the dark of those eyes, lifting to the sky, the surroundings, quietly absorbing.

Jon Henri Aerahn

Date: 2007-04-26 11:03 EST
In the early hours of the morning the metal slats had been drawn up the store front to the Forge, revealing the wide open floor plan. Tucked in the corner was the forge itself, a large black cast-iron oven with bellows that looked massive to the normal person. Until they saw the smith who typically manned them. Wearing an apron of dense brown leather he stood in the red light of the fire that raged within his forge, holding the handle of a pair of pincers in his right hand, while one hand worked the bellows, flaring the fire within to lap at the bar of iron held between the pincers grip. The man himself looked crafted, a specimen of towering chocolate skin. An errant glance was thrown to the front of his store, seeing his newest silent visitor. The metal cabinet to the forge was shut with a loud clink, and he looked sheepishly to the woman, hoping he had not frightened her. Hunching so as to not look so imposing he removed the gloves that concealed his hands and wiped his bare hands down the apron. He came around the anvil at the center of the store and approached the woman.

"Hello m'lady." He said in a friendly, booming deep voice. "Welcome to The Forge." He turned around in a slight circle, gesturing towards the wide open storefront. Hanging on the walls were a few examples of his work and the various tools of the trade, a workbench by the back wall, but there was no counter that separated his work area from the front of the store. The floor and wall were gray stone. Chestnut eyes shrunk when he smiled wide, his perfectly set ivory teeth sparkling. "My name is Jon Henri." He flickered his thick fingers at her. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

blackbird

Date: 2007-04-26 20:48 EST
"Greetings, Jon Henri", she smiled, as she paused half where between the doorway and his towering self, quite like a scared thing, no matter who he was or his appearance, she was wary. Her gaze fled to each angle of the space, startled by the majesty of him and the ambience of the inside itself. Neatly arranged, well displayed, her eye for detail applauding, as pin drop silence rang to shudder about them.


"I am a Bladesmith, I have a caravan filled with my wares, and I am looking to stay here, and to work", her soft voice sheer across the words, revealing necessity.

The lady was finely spoken, straight forward, articulated, sounding out the vowels and the inflections where she could, her shoulders held back, eyes searching the chesnut of his own; a warmth flowed from her.

"I could show you what I have crafted already, if you wish. It is my art"

She did not move then, her head bowed and she awaited a response, with courtesy and without expectation.

Jon Henri Aerahn

Date: 2007-04-27 01:28 EST
"I could show you what I have crafted already, if you wish. It is my art"

For a moment his eyes climbed to the roof of his store with contemplation, bough thick arms crossed underneath the shelf his chest created. He nodded listening to her words and rolling them over in his mind. "I'd like to see your work. That would definitely be nice. But I'd also like to know your name too." He offered her one of his bright friendly smiles. He gestured again to the tools that hung around, the samples of his work that also rested against the wall. "I have little example of what I can do. Most of what I do is on commission and usually leaves this place rather quickly. But I do make all sorts of metal wares. Pots, pans, blades, armor. Whatever it is one may need. I don't need to necessarily take on an employee. So here is what I think I should do. Should you wish to use my forge for a small fee for each piece you produce I would not mind. You can keep the rest of whatever it is you will charge for your work." A few lumbering, rattling strides of his tree thick legs as he approached the anvil at the center of the open room, giving it a firm pat. "But I do not know if this anvil will suit you. I had it especially designed for my height." It was obviously up higher than most anvils were, just coming up to his waist. "And you shall find that a lot of the tools I use are also only made for my hands. Otherwise they would not fit in these." He gestured to his two huge palms.

blackbird

Date: 2007-04-27 01:46 EST
A small sound rose from her, and she lifted her chin and gave up a toothy smile. Dark, dark eyes bore the glint of fire struck metal, the creative gleam within, and she presented a black gloved hand, smooth with the satin lined cotton that crept up to her elbow.

"The name is Terra"


Her smile did not leave, in fact, it grew, as she stared up at him, welcomed so by his hospitable nature and contagious grin. She felt within that she laughed, as she might when content or full bellied.


"And I think that shall do plenty fine, Jon Henri"


Like a brother, a similar soul, the palpable sincerity to her approach reflected the grateful pull inside, as she fell beneath the arboreal presence of him, in her nearness <not timid, or intimidated, the lady placed herself within the present. No rope burn at her wrists, only the possibility in the gaps between her fingers & consciousness, her reaction, staring up, up, up>


The idea of expanding her talents to other creations tickled her. Pans, pots, she had made, but to think of jewellery, or brooches, or shoe decals, even decorative fixtures was exciting. He had awoken in her a fire, not grilled, but small and free, to be honed and directed in areas yet untrod.

Jon Henri Aerahn

Date: 2007-04-27 17:24 EST
"It is very nice to meet you Terra." He dipped his immense body downwards in a bow and offered her a bright smile after the introduction was made. One of his hands came up to wipe the gleam of sweat from the naked expanse of his brow and he turned back to the bellows for a moment, contemplating.

"And I think that shall do plenty fine, Jon Henri"

"Good then!" He clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "It is settled." He pushed the gloves back onto his thick fingers, then looked up. "Oh and Terra? One last thing. I live above here. And so does my brother on occasion. My brother is an....odd sort." He knew this was an understatement. "Should you see him do not be intimidated or frightened. He makes his way here sometimes, and is a kind man although he would have people believe otherwise." That being squared away he went back over to the cabinet of the forge and opened it, taking the pincers in his hand and taking the now red hot piece of iron out and setting it on the anvil. With the large hammer in his other hand he began to flatten the thick piece of metal, the loud clang and the sparks that leaped from the graceful swing of his hammer setting a distinct rhythm as he returned to his work.