Forging Ahead (Rhia)

[Kila]

Winter, 6th Turn, 11th Pass

It was rain that had driven Sol and N'tharon together the first time.
This time it was snow. The cold is almost as bad as the darkness,
Sol mused as she felt her way through the Lower Caverns to where she had
been told the Forges would be. Hally was perched atop her shoulder,
valiant for once out of sight of other people. His did not frequent the
tunnels below the Weyr and neither flitter nor woman knew exactly what
all was lurking down there. "No need to worry," she soothed him
despite the stories she had been told about vicious hatchlings and
tunnelsnakes as long as a man's arm. She let him be brave though,
touched that his timidity could be put aside when he felt that she was
in need.

Lulz was with her her too, though with none of Hally's selflessness. The
chubby Pink was curled in the bag that Sol carried on her shoulder,
staring at the bottle of wine that shared her ride. The glass was cold
and bland when she flicked her tongue against it so the only interest
she had in it was sleepily watching the red liquid splash back and
forth. Sol had begun to drink it for warmth and entertainment but had
decided to make good on her promise to N'tharon instead. Maybe I can
cheer him up this time, she thought, still grateful for the day he
had passed time with her until the sun came out. "I should get a
Yellow flitter. That way I'll always have a bit of sunshine with me.
What do you think of that Hally?" she asked the little Black. A
Yellow would be the perfect companion for her shy, brooding boy but they
were rare to find. Maybe one day.

Thankfully the Forges were not difficult to find. More than anything Sol
followed the heat that they put off, following the warm tunnels that
descended until the air had lost its chill and the CyanRider was almost
warm again. "Hello?" she called, pausing just inside the door.
She had not tried to reach him ahead of time to see if he would be here,
but come on a whim. If he was off doing other things then she did not
want to be a bother to any other Smiths at their work.

[RhiaBlack]

N'tharon hadn't been expecting company, and after the loss of Sintharith's chase, the Smithcrafting Blackrider was feeling quite brood-ish. Aggressive from his lack of...expenditure of energy, given the fact his Black hadn't won, he had bathed but hadn't shaved that day, either. Not that it did him much good.

Coupled with the lack of sleep, he made for a very poor impression, no less.

The ring of his smithing hammer against the metal between it and the large anvil was the easiest way to find him. The resonant, different-pitched clanging and clinking would just as easily lead her to his location as the heat did; he had the forge going full blast, and several pieces of a new shelving unit for the Kitchens leaned against the wall a few fractions of a dragonlength from where he currently stood.

Nel's skin shone with sweat, and the defining scent of it intermingled with leather, metal, coal, and soot-roiled water within the cavern. It spared a few moments of time to spy on him, given he was so involved in his crafting that he hadn't heard her. Strands of damp hair hung to either side of his face, furrowed brows knitting further as he hammered out a length of support beam. He was covered in soot, streaks of the black stuff across his stubble-clad features and across various parts of his bare chest. A smithing apron of thick and heavy leather tucked into and tied across his belt, reaching just past his knees, though he kept the upper part off. It was ridiculously hot, but he liked it that way. It sweat out any sickness he might have, any colds from the chilly weather, and the skin of his upper torso had long since afforded a sense of resilience to sparks and small pieces of metal. He wore the nondescript scars that attested as much.

Acetone trilled, and flew over to hover near Sol, greeting her with several quiet chitters and chirps that were all but drowned out by His' work. It was the Black firelizard that finally alerted His to company, and when the swing of his hammer was deflected to ricochet off the edge of the anvil, it clattered to the floor. He hadn't been expecting her. Sol, of all people....he remembered she had said she would come, but he hadn't honestly expected her to honor that promise. People seldom did, around him.

He stood for several moments, reasonably filthy, half-naked, and what he imagined looked rather crass and uncouth, no less, before he cleared his throat and turned to pluck his hammer from the floor. The length of metal he was working was left where he had it, bridged across a support and his anvil, as he laid the hammer head-first against the cooled part of the beam.

Crossing the room to dip his hands into a basin of cleaner water and wash the soot from them, as well as his arms, he plucked a towel from the shelf; using his hands to wash the soot from his face, he dried them off.

"Apologies for the...rather sorry state I'm sure I look. I wasn't expecting company, but I'm glad to have it all the same." Acetone settled on His' shoulder, chirping gleefully at Hally - he had no idea Lulz was there, also...he couldn't well see her, from where she was tucked into.

"You had no trouble getting down here, I hope? And I take it today is not a day for sun?" He looked around for his shirt. Where in the shards did Acetone hide it this time...

[Kila]

Sol's call was drowned out by the reverberating ringing of a
hammer. The heavy tool hit hard against some glowing piece of metal as
its owner loomed over, showering it with both his sweat and his
undivided attention. The man was huge- his half clad form framed by the
fire of the forge before him. Sol thought that it might be N'tharon but
she wasn't sure until Acetone appearead and flew over to her with a
cheery greeting. "Hello you," she said with a smile, listening to
him chirp and chatter. Hally took that as his cue to disappear into her
curls, his rare bout of bravery exhausted.

The Black flitter must have alterted his master to her presence, for
N'tharon's clanging stopped quite abruptly. Sol took a small step back
even though the rogue hammer was not like to slide all the way over to
her; when she had her firelizards on her she was almost motherly and
took extra precautions to be safe. When he simply stood and stared for a
few moments she was afraid that she had intruded after all. "Hi,"
she said as he picked up the hammer and began to walk over. "I guess
I should have asked before showing up. I can go if it's a bad time."
But their apologies overlapped and she could tell that no harm was done.

"Oh no, you're fine," she said, waving away his embarassed
excusal of his state and clothing... or lack thereof. Sol made her eyes
stay on his face an not his bare chest. She had not realized how big he
was when they were sitting down in the kitchens. It had been a long time
since she been around a man in any state of undress and it did strange
things to her brain and body. "There's been a sad absence of abs
about since winter started," she joked, pushing herself up onto a
stone counter to sit while he washed. "It's a sight for sore eyes to
see some muscle again," she said with a wink, effectively killing
any awkwardness about his garb for him and her both.

Sol laughed bashfully when he asked about her journey down and her
reason for coming. He'd hit the nail on the head. "You got me. No, no
sun today sadly, and certainly not a hint of warmth. The forges are
remarkably easy to find if that's what you're looking for. It is nice
and toasty down here." She hugged herself and wiggled her toes in
her boots, enjoying the heat. It was a wonder she hadn't found this
place sooner. "What are you working on?" she asked curiously,
looking around the big room with the eyes of a newcomer.

[RhiaBlack]

Nel's face turned a slight shade darker, and he offered the glint of a marginally shy smile; his eyes shifted towards her, though he admittedly missed the attempt to retain her eyes on his face. The comment, however, surfaced a genuine laugh that seemed to lighten his otherwise brooding features.

"Admittedly there's not much to me," he seemed almost bashful, looking around himself continuously before Acetone tugged on a piece of his hair and climbed down his bicep, Nel's arm bending to keep the little Black both from clawing his skin as well as falling off his arm. Aha. There it was.

He swiped his shirt off the lower shelf of a storage alcove, the black length of silk shrugged across his shoulders before he leaned back against a crate and scratched at Acetone's chin. The little Black trilled quietly, slithering back up around N'tharon's neck.

"It's normally not this warm down here, I'm just running it hot tonight. Had a bit of a rough last few days, so figure if I run it harder tonight, it'll help. Easy to vent some frustration when I've got stuff to do." He looked back over his shoulder. "Shelving for the kitchens, finally getting around to some backordered work. It's some bigger stuff, takes some muscling around, but it's good for me. Keeps my mind off other things, I guess."

Sintharith snorted up in their weyr, but otherwise had nothing to add. He didn't make a habit of bespeaking anyone not N'tharon, and he was still a bit sore about losing a few other flights outside of Noyth's. That, however, had been one of the big ones. He knew N'tharon was still more than a little bit irritated by it, and as such had maintained a marginal degree of silence as far as bothering His. While Nel wasn't angry with him - he couldn't precisely be - it was frustrating. His disinterest in sleeping with anything that wasn't a Rider of a won flight had served to leave him more than anguished; naturally, the time would come when he had no other choice.

At least it was helping to stave off a reputation like he'd gotten in Ista.

It had become something of a habit, thanks to Fyska and Fyris. He eyed a small box, hidden along the shadows of a ledge. Something he'd been piecing together in his off-time, when not threadfighting or working the forges. The many, many nights that his mind was too full of things and thoughts to find any amount of rest, and part of him had wondered - still did - if it was too forward. Perhaps too much to be taken the way he intended it.

N'tharon had always made odd little trinkets and such for people who took the time to come down and talk to him; a practice that had been ongoing since his time at Ista, and one he found to be useful enough to keep. It could wait, certainly. He wasn't too certain if he wanted to give it to her here, or...have Acetone take it to her weyr later on. Decisions, decisions.

[Kila]

Sol smiled when N'tharon laughed at her silly jape. The action
brightened his features and the sound of it was infectious. It was even
funnier when he tried to belittle his strength yet unintentionally (?)
flexed to keep Acetone on his arm. That is a clever little Black.
The muscle held her interest but he quickly grabbed and pulled on his
shirt. "That's going to need a wash," she commented as the sweat
began to soak in.
"So this is extra hot?" she repeated, beginning to feel sweat on
her own back. She took off her bag and set it down next to her on the
counter so she could shoulder off her heavy jacket. She hadn't been able
to put enough clothes on up in her weyr but down here they were quite
unessecay. The bottle clinked against the stone and Lulz complianed
loudly, protesting the interruption of her snug transport with a
signature strange garbled cry. The Pink clawed her way out of the bag
and up into Sol's lap, collapsing onto the young woman's legs, seemingly
exhausted from the effort. "Such drama," Sol sighed but began to
pet her nevertheless.
"What's wrong?" she asked with concern when N'tharon admitted to
having had a rough past couple of days. "Not to pry, of course. But
if you want to talk about it I'm here to listen. It always helps me to
get the things that are bothering me out of my head and off my
chest." Lulz flipped onto her back and yawned, belly in the air.
"See? Lulz is dying to know. It's nice that you have an outlet for
your frustration though. I imagine that beating something to death with
a hammer when you're angry is extremly satisfying."