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Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Tuesday [07/12].

The forge was, of course, stoked and fired and ready to go in the case of any sudden bursts of inspiration (which were, actually, quite frequent), but Amaya was mostly spending her time, at least that morning, at one of the worktables, with a few parchments and plans rolled out, taking long and thoughtful sips of her coffee while considering, and then making a few more sketches and notes on some potential designs for that crib she was going to be helping LIz with. Determining what were some of the trickier parts she'd definitely have to take on herself (most of the heavy metal working), which to defer to Liz (literally all the welding, for obvious reasons).

One would think that the note scrawled on the top of each different design that read "NO SPIKES. FOR BABY >:(" would be....a little unnecessary, but you'd be surprised how many times Amaya found herself chasing after a sudden spark of an idea, only to have her pencil paused after catching that reminder in the corner of her eye.

Or...maybe you wouldn't have been surprised at all, because you'd met Amaya.

(Several of the designs still had spikes, it should be noted).

The Forge is open!

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After spending a couple of hours this morning working up the store and then stopping by at the clinic, Liz then headed over to the Forge for a while.

She still didn’t really know exactly what design she wanted but she had brought along both her camera and a notepad as well, so she could begin to document the process.

“Hey,” she said, feeling a bit more confident than last week, even though she was not yet aware of some potential designs having spikes on them.

It was fine! They were purely aesthetic spikes!

Amaya looked up from her designs and nodded. "Liz," she greeted, taking the interruption in the work as a good opportunity to reach over for whatever was left of her coffee. "Good timing, I was just finishing up on some sketch ideas for that crib of yours, if you wanted to have a look. Help to narrow in on an actual concept before I start drifting too far off in the wrong direction...."

There were spikes, it was already veering in the wrong direction. If Liz hadn't stopped by, they'd likely be looking at an Iron Crib before no time.

“I would like to see them thank you “ Liz smiled, completely unaware of just how close she was getting to an iron crib.

She pausing as she noticed Amaya going for her coffee, if Amaya was going to be helping her with the crib, the least she could do was bring more coffee. “Oh um how do you take your coffee? I can go and get you more if you’d like?”

There was another pause, “I also brought my camera along as well to take photos of the process, I mean if you don’t mind me taking photos in here that is,” she added.

"Ah, no need," said Amaya, waving off the offer with a sweep of her hand and then considering which of the designs, if any, were best to lead with, but then just decided to push them all a little forward on the table toward Liz. "Plenty more upstairs where this one came from, but I should really be cutting back any way."

She would do absolutely no such thing.

"And pictures are definitely fine," she assured her, "though maybe not necessary; if you wanted to take the sketches with you to pour over a little more, that's fine, too. This stage is mostly just for getting my ideas out, but once they're there," she gestured toward the parchments, "they're pretty much also in here," she tapped her forehead a little, "as well. You could always just add your own notes or make adjustments to any of them, too."

Liz nodded as she listened to Amaya’s explanation, “it’s also partly for the memories,” she admitted, “um … to get as many photos as I can “ there was a hesitation as she looked down at her camera and back up, “I mean …I don’t know when Prompto will be back…” she had to stay focused on the idea that Prompto would be back, that he would be here before their daughter was born, “I thought he’d like to see photos of how we built the crib,” she added.

She took a look at the designs that had been pushed towards her and she had a look over them, “is there any that would be your pick for a design so far?” she asked.

Amaya, who, despite the second anvil in the shop, liked to think that she didn't possess a single sentimental bone in her entire body, wouldn't have even thought of something like that, and her head tilted a little bit as she considered it. "Guess it would be kind of nice," she admitted, "having a record of the process and everything. Regardless, shoot away. Not like I'm trying to protect trade secrets or anything."

Her head had tilted a little bit at the mention of Prompto, though. He'd been her students a few times, after all. Good kid, really. But she had a feeling down that road would lead to....personal conversations.

So she focused, instead, on the question at hand, and considered what she'd been working on thus far. "Not really sure," she admitted, "I'm the best person to ask when it comes to something like that, but I do know that this one here," she shifted the papers and turned it toward Liz, "with all the filigree would be the most interesting to work on," because that was just as much a factor for Amaya than pretty much anything, "and I do also like this one here, with the spikes," she added, pointing out the spikes on each corner of the crib that gave it almost a sort of horned touched.

Hey, you had to shoot your shot right? Maybe Liz was also into spikes! Maybe she'd see it and decided yes, that, only how about with more? Never knew if you didn't out it out there, right?

Liz looked at both options but not before taking a quick photo first because she really did mean when she was trying to document everything for Prompto as well and then she had a closer look, “the filigree would be nice,” she considered as she looked at the plans and then, “I think it would be a nice detail for the crib,” she nodded and then paused as she considered Amaya’s other option.

“Wouldn’t spikes be kind of dangerous for a crib?” she asked rather curiously.

Well it hadn’t been a direct no?

"Well, you see," said Amaya, who, unfortunately, had thought about this a little, and pointing it out as she explained, "they're plenty high up on the posts, so unless your baby has incredibly long or potentially stretching arms, they won't be able to even reach 'em! All's you'd have to do is just be careful and mindful of your own face when you're putting them in or pulling them out."

Liz tilted her head slightly, she had to admit that spikes would definitely be a unique design for the crib, even though she did have to wonder what Prompto would think if she ended up choosing a crib design that had spikes on it ...

She had a quick glance over the other designs again as she considered the options, "I think it's probably best to go for the filigree design," she said, rather apologetically.

"Well," Amaya would say she was disappointed, buuuut...

"I figured, if anything, that filigree could be real interesting if we can can get you to handle...quite literally...the finer details with your powers. And all the welding, of course. But these are just jumping-off points anyway. If yoi've got any thoughts, I'd love to hear 'em. After all, it's gonna be your kid going into the thing."

“It will definitely be an interesting project to work on,” Liz considered the filigree design, “I think I should be able to use my powers to handle the design, i mean I won’t know for certain until I try it but I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to do that and the welding,”

She paused, “especially since it will be a good outlet for focusing my powers,” she added.

"And if ya got 'em," Amaya reasoned, "might as well put 'em to good use for something productive. And this place can certainly handle any misfires," ha!, "in that respect. It's entirely up to code, and I can definitely handle a little heat!"

Liz had been a bit worried about that so she was relieved to hear that.

“That’s definitely good to know, my powers can be unpredictable but if there’s safety measures in place, hopefully there won’t be to much trouble,” she admitted.

Hey, now, Amaya said up to code, she didn't say anything about safety measures.

But she was also a woman who handled a scorching hot furnace every single day and hadn't burned anything down yet, so she definitely wasn't worried.

"No trouble at all," Amaya assured her. "Especially if it's like you said, that it'll help you focus them a little bit. Makes sense, really. Granted, I don't have any powers like that to speak of, but I can't imagine it's too different than any other skill. If you're working on it and really focusing, of course it's going to get better. Practice makes perfect! And all that."

Liz really has no idea what she was getting into here did she?

“I hope so,” Liz said softly, “I - it’s been a while since I’ve consistently used my powers,” she admitted, “but it would be nice to be able to use them in a creative way for a change and not out in the field on a mission,”

"Amayaaaaa," Irene sang -- fairly literally, even, with the way she happily trilled that lingering last syllable -- as she wandered into the forge today, clearly in a great mood. And that great mood was only bolstered by seeing the woman in question with plans and parchments and such. "That looks like a new project."

She would be very gratified to know it was not for personal use, once she learned what the plans were for. Just to get that out there.

Amaya would also be gratified to know it was not for personal use, as well, and significantly even more so than Irene would be, no doubt.

"Well, I should hope so," she stated, looking up from the work with a quirk of her brow that wondered if she should brace herself for whatever that particular chirping of her name was going to entail, "considering it is one. I'd be a bit worried if it looked like anything else."

"I'm just pleased on your behalf," Irene replied cheerily. "I know how you prefer to be busy."

And she also had a pretty good idea that Amaya liked external projects because they generated money, too. (Hustlers unite!)

"But it could be other things," she added, coming right over to nosily look at the plans herself. "Maybe you've taken a sudden interest in cartography, or you're writing a novel in a very inefficient style."

Saying that Amaya preferred to be busy felt like an egregious understatement, really.

"No maps or sweeping epics here," she confirmed, shifting the most recent design around so that those nosy eyes could just drink them right in. "Just designs for a flame-retardant baby crib."

Which were, admittedly, words Amaya never expected she'd be saying one day, but felt oddly satisfied that she now had.

"You seem to be in a good mood," she also noted, with that faint bit of cautious suspicion, figuring she better figure out what all that was about before something was unexpectedly sprung on her too late.

"Aren't I allowed to be in a good mood?" Good instincts there, Amaya.

But the flame-retardant baby crib was more than a little distracting from the idea that had spawned that good mood, and Irene was left slanting a little look over at Amaya as she glanced between her and the plans. "Why are we worried about a flammable baby?"

Perhaps all babies were flammable, actually. Irene didn't know much about children.

Well. Technically speaking....

Amaya spared a moment to squint a little bit at that first comment, the sort of squint that said that if Irene was allowed to be in a good mood worth mentioning, then Amaya was more than allowed to be suspicious about it.

But more to the topic at hand, she just shrugged. "Because a flammable woman is pregnant."

And, really, that was more reason than Amaya would have even needed, but it did feel like a pretty good one.

"Ah, the poor duck from the radio," Irene recalled. Anakin had been wonderfully descriptive there. "Clever to think ahead for the little one."

A pause, and Irene was leaning closer to the plans with an appreciative peer. "Any spikes would keep it safe from anything that might crawl into the cot, too."

Again: not a natural mother, this one, but she had lived in Fandom for awhile. Spikes would at least deter squirrels!

"Ahh, zards!" said Amaya, blinking for a moment and reaching for a pen to make a few quick scribbles. "I didn't even think about things getting in! I just figured it would help keep the kid in!"

So, in Amaya's opinion, that definitely made Irene a more natural mother than she was, but that wasn't exactly hard. She had been the center of a mild 'should children be given knives' controversy a few AU Kidlet weekends ago, after all.

"That would be incredibly useful against gremlins," she noted, and was definitely already planning on using that in one more effort to sway Liz on the spikes. "Not as much of a problem around here, but goblins are known to swipe babies, too. But maybe it hasn't been as much of a problem because there's not many babies to be swiped."

Or goblins in general to swipe them, Amaya.

And thank goodness for that! Goblins were the worst.

Edited 2022-07-12 13:09 (UTC)

"Oh, and here I was thinking of our reporting vermin," Irene noted, looking a skosh more alarmed at the idea of baby-stealing goblins. "It's fairies and elves that take babies back home -- supposedly."

Spoken like a true skeptic, albeit one whose original author had been an ardent, open believer of fairies and advocate for the study thereof.

"Lexi, at least, has gone this long without being swiped," she reasoned. "And she's old enough to walk around and talk." So...probably not still technically a baby so much as a small child, now? "But I still think the spikes are a wonderful preventative measure against kidnapping in general."

"What kind of secrets would a baby have that they'd need to keep from the squirrels?" asked Amaya, a flash of confusion across her face, because of course that would be the main, if not the only, concern to have with local reporting vermin getting into a crib.

"And you do get that kind of trouble from fairies and elves, too," she allowed; it was just that she felt particularly vitriolic about goblins, which was a shame, really, since the goblins seemed to love her.

(Which was probably the crux of the issue, really).

"And I didn't even mention the wizards and witches, because I doubt they'd let something as paltry as a few well-placed spikes stop them."

Her world was not a safe one for children in general, really.

(Which only supported her side on the 'children with knives' debacle, really).

For what it was worth -- Irene would generally support the idea of children with knives, though she'd probably have a caveat or two. (Maybe that they prove they could hold a pencil first. That seemed like a good test.)

"First of all, squirrels carry all manner of disease," Irene pointed out, which was one of many reasons she carried a flask at all times in case she needed to bribe one. "And infants' immune systems take a bit to kick in, from what I understand. Secondly, though, a baby cot would be an amazing place to hide something you wanted to keep secret!"

Well, not now, because she'd gone and said it. But who on earth would think to look under a baby for nuclear codes or a passenger manifest (or naughty pictures of world leaders, for a totally random example)?

"And if witches and wizards are after it," she concluded, "then perhaps it's for the best that this baby has a fire-breathing mother."

She was a little unclear on how this fire thing worked, not knowing Liz personally.

Not a natural mother, indeed, Irene. These theoretical children were already in much better hands than they were in Amaya's, it seemed.

Again, though, this did not say much.

"Actually," she corrected, "I think she just produces it with her hands." Holding up her own for emphasis. "I don't think breathing fire is part of it, but I can certainly ask her next time."

"Less dragon-like, but probably just as fearsome," Irene decided appraisingly, giving an appreciative nod. "I still think I make excellent points in favor of spikes, though."

Because Irene's opinion counted for a lot here, okay.

"Seems like a fun enough project, though," she acknowledged. "And ought to keep you in business for a bit, too, since where there are baby cots, there are also high chairs, and eventually tiny beds for tiny people."

All of which presumably needed to also be flame-proof, right?

Irene's opinion actually counted for a lot. Not that Amaya would admit that. And not just because it made things two-for-one in favor of spikes-on-cribs , either!

Of course, though, now Irene had Amaya's attention with that sweet siren song that was capitalism. "That's true," she said. "Babies grow." Hopefully! "Plenty of need for upgrades as it goes along. Not to mention maybe some fire-proof toys. Metal building blocks, dolls, games..."

KNIVES...

Edited 2022-07-12 14:17 (UTC)

"A chest in which to hold all these goodies," Irene added, nodding along. "Little tyke'll probably need accessories growing up -- you've got a customer for life, there."

A joyous occasion, to be sure.

"You might well start a whole trend of metalwork baby accessories," Irene decided. "Even for parents who don't need to worry perhaps quite so much about fire."

"I've already got the Etsy descriptions
written in my head," Amaya admitted, and she'd already planned to switch her attention over to designing some good molds for that sort of thing pretty much thr moment Irene went along her merry little way.

"Might want to watch it on anything for teething, though," Irene added with a thoughtful wince before leaning on the table, putting her adorable chin in her adorable palm, and gracing Amaya with another bright smile. Her good mood, of course, had not gone anywhere, because the idea that had inspired it hadn't gone anywhere. "So, I've a question for you."

Always an auspicious place to start, especially when paired with such a particularly sunny disposition. Irene's actual dress today may have been sleeveless, but that didn't mean she didn't have something up an entirely figurative sleeve.

Of course Amaya knew that even the most rambling tangent regarding supplying any number of probable babies with metalwork trinkets and toys wouldn't have distracted Irene off the good mood (and whatever terrible thing had inspired it) that she'd been wearing as noticeably well as that sleeveless dress, but, dammit, she'd honestly rather hoped...

She regarded that adorable smile and that adorably cradled chin for a moment of indecision, of hemming and hawwing between just ignoring that last part and babbling about potential teething solutions, and knowing that she'd only be delaying the inevitable.

"I...might have an answer," she said, something that clearly hinged on just what kind of question they were talking about here.

Irene's smile faded a little into something gentler, less aggressively flirtatious.

"I have been thinking," she started, clearly considering her words very carefully. "Admittedly, this started as part of the page-filling exercise -- and I've not given that up, mind, but it made me think, and...."

She cleared her throat, straightening up, and made a point to meet Amaya's eye with hers. "Now, it's important that you know I'm not -- this doesn't come from a place of criticism," she started, and while Irene was not one to ever allow herself to be openly nervous, she was obviously taking great pains with her phrasing here. "We both know I think you're lovely, and lovelier still in soot and mess and all the like. But I was wondering if...I might take you shopping, some time."

If nothing else, she thought Amaya might benefit from a really solid pair of trousers. Blacksmithing in a skirt was a trick she, herself, had never attempted, and even then, Irene's skirts tended to be much shorter than Amaya's, anyway.

Amaya didn't know which was worse, honestly--knowing that Irene had likely come in here with intent (intent beyond the usual, anyway), or that this intent involved all this build-up and a little bit of hemming and hawwing of Irene's own, leaving Amaya listening with tightly-held trepidation as she weaved her way to the point. Her defenses were already up, so it didn't take much for a word like criticism to square her shoulders and lift her chin. She was far less prepared for the odd way in which we both know I think you're lovely made her stomach drop, and she was still picking it back up by the time she got around to the end that Amaya, blinking, half wondered if she'd missed it entirely.

"Shopping?" she asked, as if to confirm that she did, in fact, hear correctly. "Shopping...for what?"

The last time she could think of that involved taking someone shopping had been when Diaz took her out for swimsuits.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Clothes," Irene replied simply, worrying her lower lip a touch in spite of every instinct telling her to be cooler about it. But being cooler about this had the potential to seem like she was being aloof or snobby, when this was all borne out of a desire to simply bring together her favorite pastime and her favorite person.

(Not that she would ever say something like that aloud. An admission like that was sure to prove even more disastrous than mistakenly giving the impression that she was approaching this as some sort of Amaya Needs a Makeover! project.)

"I have a bit of an eye, and it's fun for me," she added, and it was now her turn for a severe understatement. "And I'd love to outfit you with a few...staple pieces. Maybe some trousers. Another dress or two, if you'd like. Might be fun, if you'd -- you know, allow me to."

"I don't think I've added a new piece of clothing to my wardrobe since Diaz dragged me out for a swimsuit," Amaya said, after a long moment of her brain trying to figure out what to do with this and failing completely.

Whether or not she said it as a statement in support of how much she didn't need any or for how desperately she actually did, she honestly had no earthly idea.

"Then it sounds like you're overdue," Irene decided lightly, because that was not an outright rejection and thus she'd hopefully managed to thread that needle all right. "I need a few things myself before fall," a blatant lie if there was ever one; Irene did not need any more clothes, "and it'd be no trouble to bring you along. Get the lot tailored, too. My treat."

She had scads of money, anyway, and it would make Irene happy in a way very few things did, these days.

The small sound that escaped Amaya was an attempted argument that didn't quite know what it should be, leaving her just shaking her head a little, as a particularly complicated feeling of doubt started creeping in.

"I don't know, Irene," she finally managed. "That just sounds like a disaster for everyone involved."

That poor, poor tailor especially!

"No, what sounds like a disaster is a woman with a perpetual manicure, who doesn't know how to hold a mace, signing herself up for fourteen weeks of blacksmithing classes," Irene argued, lifting her brows in amusement. "And look how that's turned out."

And maybe -- maybe -- this was Irene's attempt at inviting Amaya into her world, a little, after spending so much time ingratiating herself into Amaya's.

(If she only knew about Jon's class roster. She'd probably do a back flip.)

"It'll be fun," she added, more confidently now. "Trust me. I mean, you probably oughtn't trust me with much else, but I promise you -- I won't steer you wrong with clothes."

And her tailor had probably seen worse -- or, if she hadn't, Irene would make sure nothing was said.

Edited 2022-07-12 17:28 (UTC)

Hey, if Amaya had to sit there and learn about trumpeters who were apparently very deft at paperwork/negotiating and looked good in purple robes, she assumed, it was the least she could do to balance those scales a little.

There was nothing less about something like this, though...

"How is that manicure holding up for you these days, anyway?" she asked instead.

Stalling, perhaps.

Not distraction. She knew that never worked.

"Shellac holds up pretty wonderfully under the gloves," Irene noted, holding out one fairly-flawless, red-nailed hand for inspection.

But she also got those manicures touched up bi-weekly. On Thursdays.

(It was worth it.)

(And she also knew she was being stalled, but she was fairly used to that, see also: distractions not working.)

Amaya leaned in a little, inspecting said hand as suggested, as if she had any idea of what she would even be looking for, as if it wasn't just stretching the time a little longer before having to give a definitive answer to this whole absurd shopping scheme.

The fact that it hadn't be a no yet, however, spoke volumes for the fact that it was very unlikely to be one at all.

"Not sure if I should take that as a testament to the quality of the product," she noted, "or a sign I'm not working you hard enough. Last week was a pretty easy one, though. For the most part..."

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Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Tuesday [07/12].

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