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Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Tuesday [02/11].

Funny thing about a week like this one when you had a reliable source of...erm, relief (matter of fact, hadn't a week like this one been what sort of started...erm, 'movie nights'?) and there were no incredibly distracting apprentices around. It actually wasn't...all that bad.

It was definitely far from good. Amaya sort of hated feeling like this so consistently; little blips here and there were fine, but this was so steady it just sort of made you feel like your whole body was trying to vibrate right off of your bones. And even though there was no distracting apprentices physically around right now, they were absolutely there mentally. Still, she'd be lying if she said this particular kind of energy wasn't exceptionally good for getting a lot of work done. Hot, sweaty, exhausting physical activity that required a lot of pounding and beating that would really wind up showing a long hard shaft who's boss?

Just what the apothecary ordered.

And a good way to spend her entire day, if not most of her week, if you asked her, and she didn't even put the Valentine's Special board out, because she'd rather not be interrupted if it could all be helped.

Almost thought about closing up the door, barring it and locking it, just to make sure she was uninterupted, but, well....while it was hardly the same satisfaction as handling a big, hefty sword, Amaya was not one to turn down the titilating thrill of business either!

The Forge is, somewhat regrettably, open!

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Seivarden had spent a very enjoyable night on the mainland with Lucifer and some new friends, and she hadn't got home until the morning. So it was afternoon when she walked into the forge, in an obvious good mood.

"Amaya! How are you today?"

Well. She was sort of hoping for a lack of interruptions, but Amaya could hardly complain about this one. It was going to save her the trouble of having to make a phone call later.

She looked up from where she'd been working at one of the anvils, hammering mercilessly at a poor length of steel that had done absolutely nothing to her except exist, made the attempt to blow her bangs off her sweat-slicked forehead with a huff of air (it didn't really work), then grinned a little, straightening with a pass of the back of her hand against her forehead instead after setting down the hammer.

"Productive!" she said cheerily, the grin turning into a smirk as she cocked her head to the small pile of similarly assaulted swords to her left. "How' bout you?"

She looked good. And not just in the sense that just about nearly anyone walking through that door would look good right now. But she seemed happy, and that was always nice to see.

Amaya just might be taking a moment to blatantly admire that fact right now, too, even if she wasn't entirely conscious of the fact that she was.

"Oh, I'm fine."

Although now she had Amaya in front of her, muscular and sweaty, and Seivarden knew very well what she would like to...

But business first.

"So it's a sword day?"

Sorry, that just came out of her mouth.

Quite sweaty. Amaya actually hadn't fully realized just how hard she had been working those swords until she actually stopped, realizing she was a bit out of a breath and noticing how it felt much warmer than usual in her, too. She was used to the heat, but she had to take a moment to sort of fan herself off a little with her hand.

"Definitely a sword day," she said, emphatically, with a grin to match. "Nothing to work out all those itchy, jumbly feelings as wriggling around inside quite like just getting your hands on a nice, long, hard piece of steel and just beating it into submission."

Forgive her, she had no idea what she was really saying underneath all that, despite what that bright, eager, hungry spark in her eyes might suggest.

Seivarden, who was very well aware of what that could mean, made a small noise, somewhere between amusement and something else. She approached Amaya, gloved fingertips running over the weapons she walked past.

"Good," she said. "I was hoping for that."

And now the red flush across Amaya's face had absolutely nothing to do with exertion or the head of the forge, and all those itchy jumbly feelings she was driving off with the work came wriggling right back, and in full force at that.

The biggest thing about it, though, was, just then, she didn't even mind.

She made her own noise, mostly a snort, between amusement and something else. "You?" she asked, a teasing incredulousness in the question and her smirk. "Hoping for a sword day? The island really must be really messing with us."

Seivarden smirked too, while bringing out a cup and a bottle of rum. She filled the cup generously.

"You have a Valentine's offer, don't you?"

She leaned against the table, not even embarrassed about deliberately making sure she made a nice view.

"I do," Amaya answered, and while she was definitely admiring the effort put into the view, a question like that from Seivarden was still going to manage to make a few warnings rise up even through the fog of the pollen. She folded her arms over her chest for a moment, eyeing her with mild (though still faintly amused) suspicion. "You're not telling me you're actually interested in buying a sword, are you?"

Yeah, when Seivarden walked on through the door, that was just about the last direction she would have expected the ensuing conversation to take!

At least she was wearing gloves. Folding her nice, muscular arms in front of her like that was still very distracting. Then Seivarden grinned, pushed herself away from the table, and walked over to Amaya, almost close enough to touch her.

She knew she was nice to look at, why not make the most of it?

Right, swords.

"I am. I might need a recommendation though."

Yes, yes, very nice to look at, very close, with that nice fine tension between spaces and all that, but when it came to talking shop, Amaya was practical, above all else, even pollen.

Well, mostly practical. If her posture shifted a little to lean in a bit closer, elongating her neck as she lifted her chin forward, well...it couldn't be helped.

"I might," she said, her voice landing somewhere huskier and more enticing than the defiant she might have been hoping for, "figurin' you can just answer two questions for me first...Captain."

Okay, that last part was definitely much huskier and enticing than her usual intonation, and she was perfectly okay with that.

Captain. Seivarden still liked that, and especially when said in that voice. Oh, and challenging her a bit? Seivarden didn't quite manage to looked calm and relaxed.

"And what are those questions?"

She was so very tempted to wipe away that drop of sweat running down Amaya's neck.

And that challenge would remain solid as Amaya kept her gaze steady on Seivarden, unwavering, though there was a subtle intake of breathe in the effort to keep herself from just saying forget the questions, and also saying it with her mouth, but not with words.

"Who is it for?" She quirked her brow a little with that last word. She'd love to give Seivarden the benefit of the doubt, but she also knew that this week could make people do some pretty stupid things, and Seivarden was also pretty good at pretty stupid things. "And also, who are you, and what have you done with Seivarden Vendaai?"

There was...a pause. Amaya's gaze shifted finally to the said.

"Okay, so that was three questions."

Her thoughts were maybe a bit muddled, okay? Her eyes locked back onto Seivarden's.

"You get the point."

Even when she was actually good at this, she wasn't good at this.

Oh, that eyebrow.

"It's for Lucifer. Instead of flowers, because I'm already giving him that and it would be a bit predictable."

She looked back at Amaya, smiling.

"Not anonymously, of course." There really wouldn't be any point. "I did come up with this last week."

Well, Lucifer was definitely not the name Amaya was half-worried she'd wind up hearing, and Seivarden was good enough to jump in on some of the other concerns she might have had about the whole situation, but she was still going to look at her a bit skeptically, eyes narrowed a little in warning. But mostly just for good measure.

"If this winds up with me having to fix another door," she said, even though they both knew good and well that the common factor in those situations had not been her weapons, "I might just have half a mind not to fix it. But I can hardly say no to a red letter day like this. Seivarden Vendaai, actually buying a sword!"

Well, it wasn't like it was the first weapon she'd bought or anything, but it still had an air of accomplishment to it, and she snorted a bit, grinning.

"We'll have to make sure it's a good one."

Seivarden grinned.

"I'm sure you can help me pick a good one."

She took a step back, reluctantly, just to be on the safe side.

"Well," said Amaya, grinning broadly, "you're in good hands. If there's anyone around here who really knows a sword, it's me."

Yup. Still, miraculously, oblivious. But that spark was back in her eyes again, eager and excited, although it was less about the pollen and more about the chance to really talk shop, but, as far as Amaya went, those two things had roughly the same effect on her.

"So!" She pounded her fist into her palm to signify she was really ready to get down and dirty with these swords. "What were you thinking? More of a statement piece, or something more practical? Something really big and massive and impressive? Or perhaps something a little flashier, where it's not so much the size that counts but rather what you can do with it?"

Again. By now, on a week like this one, you'd really think she'd know better.

Seivarden, on the other hand, did know better.

"Oh, definitely style and skill rather than size. Don't you have one that's both practical and a statement though? Because I think both are important."

She was trying to talk about swords, but since the gift was a euphemism in itself, it got complicated.

"Oh, well, sure!" said Amaya, who was very nicely enjoying this moment of just thinking about swords right now, although there were little corners of her mind that were rebelliously venturing off into things like making swords and using swords, and traveling down that path landed her just where she'd started! She chased them off a little while she considered her inventory, turning to face the weapons wall, and then turning right back around because the weapons wall had the Throwing Star, and nope.

She didn't need to look at her inventory to know what was there.

"Hmm, now let's see. I've got some nice damascas steel that's always nice for a visual appeal, and you can't go wrong with something in a nice ornate hilt or a blade with just a slight curve. You know a blade like that's going to just get in there and hit all the right spots. Unless you want something custom-made, but that'll take at least a few weeks..."

Which meant that if Seivarden intended this as a gift for the...ugh, mushy holiday...then she was out of luck, but if Seivarden intended this for...that, Amaya did not want to know anything about it.

"Hit all the right spots?"

Seivarden croaked slightly.

"Ornate hilt, definitely. Just not so ornate you can't grasp it firmly. It's for... the holiday you don't like, so I can't wait for something custom made, but I trust you to know what I like by now."

"Oh, well, of course," said Amaya, nodding in agreement, "no one wants a sword they they can't go and get a nice firm grasp on. Though some of the finer swordwork I've seen requires a bit of a softer, more delicate hand, usually a lot of flex and fluidity with the wrist."

And, no, Amaya, you demonstrating what you meant with your hand right now was probably not actually helping explain what you meant.

"And I do know what you like, but it isn't about what you like. You got to keep in mind what'll work best for the person receiving it."

That would probably a bad place for her encouraging little fist pump, too, if this were a situation were she was talking about, say, not swords.

"I..."

Those hand movements were distracting, Amaya, even though you were wearing gloves.

"I mean..."

And that fistpump.

"Yes, exactly."

Which, as far as fishing for hints about what Lucifer might like, that...really didn't give Amaya much, but she was starting to think about it a little more. It felt good, too, using the gears in her head to think about something other that sexy things, all they needed was the right grease to get going again.

Of course, now that she thought about how she wasn't thinking about sexy things anymore, she was...sort of thinking about sexy thihngs again. Zards.

No, no, swords. It was fine, she was thinking about swords, she was figuring out one for maybe Seivarden, who was very fancy and liked fancy things and therefor, if she was giving someone a sword for...ugh, the mushy holiday, would probably lead pretty fancy, as a representation of herself. Or something.

She didn't know. She didn't get mushy stuff.

"Hmmm," she said, narrowed her eyes in consideration of Seivarden for a moment, got firmly distracted by Seivarden for a moment, reminded herself of swords and then snapped her fingers. "I think I've got it. Come with me."

She turned to head over to the weapons wall, may have melted a little bit wistfully when she got in eyeshot of the Throwing Star to any discerning or watchful eyes, and then reached for a sword with a bright gold hilt inlaid with a large ruby at the end, and a scabbard to match ~~despite the picture~~. It always felt a little gaudy for her tastes; it was the sort of weapon she made because lords and ladies liked all that gold shiny, and lords and ladies paid well for gold shinies. At least, that's how it appeared on the outside, because this one was one where the hilt and scabbard weren't her style so much, but the blade within? That's where she gave it the good old Amaya touch.

"How 'bout this one?" she asked, holding it out for a moment before she took the hilt into her own hand. "An eye-catcher to be sure! And sure, it looks all pretty and nice right from the get go, but it's when you pull it out of its sheath--"

Really, weaponry had too many words in common with smut.

But Amaya did pull the sword out of the sheath, a bit dramatically to really play up the moment when she'd reveal the stylized steel within, that stylized curve on the ricasso, the gentle but dramatic spiked ridge work along the edges, the beautiful and subtle bevel work, the way the exceptionally deep fuller ran allllll the way down the central ridge...

A soft but deep groan of appreciation slipped out of her, even though she was the one who made the damn thing.

"That's when the real fun begins."

And though it may have seemed just then that maybe Amaya and the sword needed a little bit of alone time, she shifted her hand and gave the sword a turn so that she could hold expertly in a way that didn't cut herself on the edge but allowed her to hold it out to Seivarden to take by the hilt.

"Go on and give it a try for yourself."

Maybe while she dug out her phone to make sure she got photographic evidence of Seivarden actually holding a sword.

Edited 2020-02-11 22:44 (UTC)

The thing was, Seivarden had no idea about Lucifer's taste in actual swords, or about her own taste in them for the matter. And then Amaya got really... enthusiastic for that sword, and when she offered it to her, Seivarden reached for it, unaware that Amaya was reaching for her phone.

Seivarden cluelessly waved the sword about a bit, realizing that the euphemisms didn't translate that well into the actual situation.

"It's nice," she said. "I just feel..."

She aimed a stab at thin air.

"I like the surprise effect when you pull it out. But maybe... a little less... well, more, not subtle, but..."

She struggled to find the right words mostly because she really was thinking about something else.

Well, the subtle attempt at a picture didn't actually work too well, because Amaya's gloves didn't really work with her phone, and she knew what happened last time she took off her gloves during one of these weeks to use her phone, and while she fully expected that was going to happen eventually, right now there was sword talk and she could be plenty patient. This was just about as much fun for her as any of that stuff, anyway, and it was just nice admiring the view of Seivarden holding her sword right now, anyway.

"Less ostentatious?" she tried, because that was generally how she felt about that one, and it was a good starting point, so she nodded.

"What about..." She turned, considering the wall again. "Oh! Maybe this one?"

And she reached for the next one to bring it down. "Rapier style hilt, plenty ornate without being too, what do they call it here? Extra. The blade is not as interesting in this one, but the fact that it's not a rapier blade is interesting enough in itself, but," she slid it from its sheath slowly, "you can still see there's some unique design to it."

She sheathed it again, and handed it over with one hand while holding out her other to take the first one back.

Seriously, she could stand there and handle swords all day!

Edited 2020-02-11 23:49 (UTC)

If it wasn't for the look she imagined Amaya would give her, Seivarden would suggest they take a break and get back to looking at swords in a bit.

The thought especially struck her when Amaya pulled the sword from the scabbard. Weapons didn't even turn her on, but the euphemisms were firmly stuck in her brain.

"I prefer that one," Seivarden said. "More stylish and it looks quite... functional. Not that I would know, obviously."

She grinned, trying not to look too much at their - still very gloved - hands as they switched swords. Pulling the new one from the scabbard, she let out a short breath.

Waving it about, she still had no idea how to judge its qualities as an actual sword, but that probably wasn't the point was it?

"It works, doesn't it?"

Amaya would argue that all you needed to know to judge the quality of an actual sword was to just ask if Amaya'd made it, and then you'd have your answer.

She snorted. "Oh," she said, "it works, already. Like a dream. I've never been a form over function type of gal, what's the point in keeping around a weapon that doesn't work? But I can show you if you don't believe me."

Seivarden grinned, offering her the hilt, brushing against her fingers when they touched.

"Please."

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Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Tuesday [02/11].

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