Post by :: Pandie :: on Jul 12, 2009 14:52:08 GMT -5
Symphony De Madrid
Location: Hammerfall Forge
Time: 7:30am Two Hours after Sunrise
It was crunch time. Symphony wasn't entirely sure what that phrase meant. However, she WAS sure of one thing. She had to get the smithery back into shape, and she had to do it fast, lest her reanimated flesh be ripped off by Tathar. She wouldn't have to worry about her pretty visage then. So it was with a heavy heart that she awoke and got to work, promising herself under no circumstances would she light the forge.
The shelves were stocked--mostly. There were a few of his tools that she had taken down to examine. They were easy enough to replace along the shelves. But there were other tools...She had used his own tools in a vain attempt to fashion something...she had been in a feverish state, not quite sure where her "child" was. It was, of course, strictly forbidden for her to create a child in this realm, and she hadn't actually done it...she had merely TRIED. But that was not the point...the tools. After using them, she had left them in the water bucket to rinse off. Without shooting them much of a seocnd glance, she removed them from the water, wiped them on her pants absentmindedly, and, oblivious to the rust stains now appearing on each of them, hung them carefully in the smithy's personal tool area.
With that being done, she though tit best to wipe down the counters and work areas to remove all signs of her--I mean, to keep the place tidy. She assumed that all of the buckets were water, not being very experience with metal working, and so she dipped the rag quite contentedly into the oil bucket and began smearing it all across the tables and counters. She didn't notice this because out of the corner of her eye she kept stealing glances at that wonderful, terrible forge.
She glanced nervously at the pile--no, the MOUND of splintered matches that literally covered the floor in front of the forge. Once she had gone through Tathar's personal stash, she had gone hunting from the other villagers, "eliciting" matches from the tavern, the inn, the sexy carpenter, the apothecary, and a number of villager's homes. Her raids had gone on all night for the shops and much of the morning for the residences. She had, of course, finally realized how to light the stove without burning herself, but something bout the sulfur smell captivated her. She began scooping up matches by the handful into a refuse bin, but then stopped. The hole on the forge was like a mouth, waiting to be fed. What could it hurt,, she wondered, to feed it one last meal? She had two matches left. She began feeding the matches into the forge instead.
Once all of the matches were fed into the belly of the stove, she lit one of her final matches and before she could become too enraptured by the flame, tossed it into the forge. WHOOSH. an immediate wave of heat washed over her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the soft sulfur aroma, quite contentedly, until those vibrant emerald eyes fluttered open again. She stared at the fire for several minutes...it took sheer force of will for her to tear her eyes away, but she disappeared out into the day instead, not trusting herself to take the time to replace Tathar's matches, or even to douse the fire in the forge. And she never did find the little dolly she had attempted to create, and it lay there, a dark and perverse secret, half hidden by the shadow of tather's desk.
Location: Hammerfall Forge
Time: 7:30am Two Hours after Sunrise
It was crunch time. Symphony wasn't entirely sure what that phrase meant. However, she WAS sure of one thing. She had to get the smithery back into shape, and she had to do it fast, lest her reanimated flesh be ripped off by Tathar. She wouldn't have to worry about her pretty visage then. So it was with a heavy heart that she awoke and got to work, promising herself under no circumstances would she light the forge.
The shelves were stocked--mostly. There were a few of his tools that she had taken down to examine. They were easy enough to replace along the shelves. But there were other tools...She had used his own tools in a vain attempt to fashion something...she had been in a feverish state, not quite sure where her "child" was. It was, of course, strictly forbidden for her to create a child in this realm, and she hadn't actually done it...she had merely TRIED. But that was not the point...the tools. After using them, she had left them in the water bucket to rinse off. Without shooting them much of a seocnd glance, she removed them from the water, wiped them on her pants absentmindedly, and, oblivious to the rust stains now appearing on each of them, hung them carefully in the smithy's personal tool area.
With that being done, she though tit best to wipe down the counters and work areas to remove all signs of her--I mean, to keep the place tidy. She assumed that all of the buckets were water, not being very experience with metal working, and so she dipped the rag quite contentedly into the oil bucket and began smearing it all across the tables and counters. She didn't notice this because out of the corner of her eye she kept stealing glances at that wonderful, terrible forge.
She glanced nervously at the pile--no, the MOUND of splintered matches that literally covered the floor in front of the forge. Once she had gone through Tathar's personal stash, she had gone hunting from the other villagers, "eliciting" matches from the tavern, the inn, the sexy carpenter, the apothecary, and a number of villager's homes. Her raids had gone on all night for the shops and much of the morning for the residences. She had, of course, finally realized how to light the stove without burning herself, but something bout the sulfur smell captivated her. She began scooping up matches by the handful into a refuse bin, but then stopped. The hole on the forge was like a mouth, waiting to be fed. What could it hurt,, she wondered, to feed it one last meal? She had two matches left. She began feeding the matches into the forge instead.
Once all of the matches were fed into the belly of the stove, she lit one of her final matches and before she could become too enraptured by the flame, tossed it into the forge. WHOOSH. an immediate wave of heat washed over her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the soft sulfur aroma, quite contentedly, until those vibrant emerald eyes fluttered open again. She stared at the fire for several minutes...it took sheer force of will for her to tear her eyes away, but she disappeared out into the day instead, not trusting herself to take the time to replace Tathar's matches, or even to douse the fire in the forge. And she never did find the little dolly she had attempted to create, and it lay there, a dark and perverse secret, half hidden by the shadow of tather's desk.
