[ With in the smithy, there is iron. There are gems and flame, precious metals meant for melting, strong alloys with which to forge weapons for whatever purpose. Against the power of dreamotion, of sorrow and grief, they might all find their cracks, their rust and their wear. Perhaps it speaks to the steady will of the shoppe's owner that all remain timeless in presentation.
At her words, his helm lifts, as if in some way of measuring her conclusion. A beat passes, then two, and his chin lowers. This is approval.
no subject
At her words, his helm lifts, as if in some way of measuring her conclusion. A beat passes, then two, and his chin lowers. This is approval.
He lifts a hand, motioning to her. ]
Come hither.