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Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Friday [03/24].

Even without taking into account the mess that was trying to relate the calendar of her world to this one, Amaya never really paid much attention to things like upcoming birthdays or other dates that may be of some sort of personal significance. For a good deal of years, she'd mostly considered a birthday more of a vague thing, a sort of handwaved give or take sort of situation.

But these last few years, there'd been an event to spark her memory and remind her that, oh, that's right, she did have a birthday right about on this day every year, didn't she, and that was in the form of her work being interrupted by the delivery of some kind of gigantic cupcake and some kind of mushy, flowery note about friendship from none other than Wente Fey.

Who, it should be noted, she hadn't actively talked to in probably years at this point, save for the occasional jaunt back to Daventry to sort out some kind of blacksmithing crisis because their replacement for her just wasn't very good, really.

This year's cupcake, easily taking up a good portion of one of her worktables now, was not only enormous, but also incredibly fancy, which not only seemed like a waste of effort for something like this (for food? for her birthday? for both?), but also absurd to think that anyone could even eat that much cupcake all by themselves.

(She was, of course, blatantly ignoring any suggestion in Wente's note that the cupcake wasn't intended to be enjoyed as a solo activity).

The Forge is open!

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Irene had been very busy with incredibly handwavey, yet very important things -- birthday denial of her own, hair appointments, just a lot of things on Tuesdays all of a sudden, don't worry about it -- but when she was passing through town on Friday and spotted what looked like activity in the forge...what, was she supposed to not stop in?

Especially when her own birthday had become relevant in a forge context, too?

"Amayaaaaaaa." Did Irene do this sing-songy greeting thing now particularly because she strongly suspected Amaya found it kind of annoying? Absolutely.

Annoying might not be exactly the right word, but there were hardly enough hours in the day to really analyze exactly what all went into the withering way Amaya looked up from the current random weapon du jour she was working on at the anvil at the sound of her name spoken in that particular way by that particular voice.

Especially since it was, admittedly, only fleetingly appearing today, as her attention immediately jumped into seeking out any suggestion of unexpected baked goods, because she wouldn't entirely put it past Irene to do something like muster up a better knowledge of when Amaya's birthday was than even Amaya herself bothered with.

But everything seemed clear, in that respect, so then she nodded, with her own "Irene" seeming particularly flat and short and serviceable by comparrison.

You know, if it weren't for that calendar incongruence, Irene might have sussed out Amaya's birthday by now. (That, and the fact that she knew that directly requesting such information would likely get her almost nowhere.)

But, tragically, she was empty-handed as far as baked goods or even lol-I-forgot-my-own-favorite-drink-at-the-Perk-can-you-believe-it? coffee, impromptu as this visit was.

"How are you?" Irene asked, dropping the sing-songiness -- annoyance or something more complex, it was that withering look she'd been after -- in favor of warmth and interest as she wandered in.

Just a few more hits to get the piece in her hands to a good stopping point, and Amaya straightened with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Just fine," she said. "No complaints."

Well, none that she'd bring up, anyway. She could go on and on (and even on!) about the cupcake, really, but that would require acknowleding the cupcake, which was something she clearly had no intention of doing, beyond the initial handful she'd dug out of part of it earlier.

"Yourself?"

And them, ever the dangerous question: "What brings you in today?"

Besides, of course, the rare instance of it having been posted in general.

"Visiting my favorite blacksmith."

An obvious answer -- and, again, one that might honestly be questioned given how Irene had mysteriously become so very busy on Tuesdays out of nowhere (though that would likely be eased by the transition into spring and summer, equally mysteriously) -- but an honest one, for the most part.

"But also," she added, sidling over to lean against one of those famously relatively-soot-free surfaces she was always finding, "I might be in for a bit of business, too."

This was one of Irene's very favorite dances. Press, and prod, and compliment, and sing-song -- and then throw out the tantalizing prospect of business, just when she might be getting predictable.

She had, of course, taken note of the cupcake -- though, whether it was really fair to call that thing a cupcake was a whole other question, given its size -- and while part of her wanted to spring to asking all kinds of questions about that...there was also an advantage to patience, occasionally.

Edited 2023-03-24 13:16 (UTC)

Wente Fey would argue (well, not argue, such confrontation was hardly in his nature! More like politely suggest) that a cup was still a cup, even when that cup was obviously more fitted for a giant.

But Amaya, it seemed, fell into her steps of the dance perfectly, even if she was barely even aware of it, her attention immediately, predictably snagged on the clarion call of that most sonorous word.

"Business, you say?" she asked, attentive and intrigued. "What kind?"

See, that was a fair assessment; Irene did traditionally measure things in human quantities. Her lack of creativity should be shamed, honestly.

"Look what I got," she replied, producing a gift card to this very forge between two fingers and lifting her brows. "People tell me I'm hard to shop for, and yet Jon knew right where to go."

Never mind the clever, lovely switchblade in her bag. One could always use more knives from one's favorite blacksmith.

It was true; one could never have too many knives. Although Amaya would allow that she did sort of have a pretty biased opinion on that matter.

Her own brows were lifted, too, not that it was quite so obvious, what with the bangs and all. "So that's who that was for!" she remarked, almost a little ashamed of herself for not having had sussed that one together, but, in her defense, she barely even knew Jon, beyond the fact that she was well overdue for thanking him for being the one dragging Irene along on all those school trips. Actually, now that she thought of it, she should have probably given him a bit of a discount, all things considered, but, welp! Too late now! Maybe next time.

But then she blinked a bit, and tilted her head, as she remembered that, even if he hadn't divulged who the gift card was for, he had mentioned it was for someone's birthday.

"You had a birthday?"

...well, yes, Amaya, most people did. Every year, even! Some people on this very same day, as a matter of fact.

"Most people do," Irene echoed the narrative, slanting her gaze just momentarily towards that gigantic cupcake. "It was last Wednesday. It's not like I've told anyone -- Jon just knows things, sometimes."

And given that she wasn't sure how much discretion to use there, there was no capital-K emphasis on knows.

"Want to guess how old I am?" That was a trap, Amaya, be careful.

"Ah," said Amaya, with a small note of relief that she didn't have to feel too bad about it, then, did she, if it hadn't been common knowledge, and then swiftly reminding herself that she didn't have to feel bad about not knowing regardless, because why would she need to know anything like that in the first place? When Irene's birthday might be? Like last Wednesday, which would put it...uh, let's see...right, the fifteenth. Of March. Irene's birthday. That she definitely did not need to know for any reason whatsoever, so she certainly would not be making a point of remembering or at least trying to remember, at all.

And then poor Amaya, who wouldn't have seen a trap like that coming even if it was set up right before her very eyes, just sort of wrinkled her nose a little as she looked at Irene with a legitimate and serious consideration of the question before all she came up with was a very uncertain and naively hopeful, "Thirty-four?"

Did she say that because that was (give or take) the age she herself had more than likely turned on this very day?

Yes. Yes, that was literally her only reasoning behind that guess, but, really, she felt that was as solid a logic as you could get, in the situation.

Irene was torn between vanity -- did she actually look her age????? -- and a surge of pride in Amaya at that astoundingly correct guess.

"Got it in one," she replied with a smile, which she would not have admitted to nearly anyone else. (Most people would get some sort of coy answer, or a transparent lie of, 'Twenty-nine,' for as long as she could maintain it.) "Though I'm supposed to be forty-one, if I had stayed put in time where I'm meant to be."

Horrifying thought, that.

"That for me?" she added, teasing, as she tilted her head towards the cupcake. Obviously not, since Amaya hadn't even known about her secret birthday until just now, but she also reeeeeeeeeeally wanted to ask about it.

Ah, yes, the best kind of correct: coincidentally! But even Amaya actually looked a little proud of herself for that one, since a swing and hit was always still a hit.

"I guess that's one way to shave off a few years," she pointed out, letting herself enjoy her clearly well-earned and hard-fought-for victory on the age lottery for just a moment longer before her attention shifted toward the cupcake with a bit of a grimace.

"And, erm, no," she said. "It's for me, actually, but you're welcome to have some. I wasn't planning on finish it all anyway."

Not outside of a 'break it down slowly over the course of a full week' fashion, anyway.

"What's the occasion?" Irene prompted, absolutely on the hook to have some of that monstrosity before she left.

She had a guess, actually. Though she'd be surprised to learn that the entirety of their age gap seemed to be about a week.

(Amaya did seem like an Aries, though. That part she might have predicted.)

"It's, uh," Amaya sort of rubbed the back of her neck a little, although whether her sudden awkwardness stemmed from the embarrassing fact of having a birthday or that someone would send her an absolutely ridiculous cupcake because of it all the way from a different world entirely was a little unclear, even to her, "my birthday, actually. Today. More or less."

It did get a little fuzzy, what with the calendars.

And, then, because she could hardly help it, really:

"Want to guess how old I am?"

Irene, all set to deliver a congratulations of many happy returns (and maybe see if Amaya knew about, like, Marilyn Monroe and JFK, just to be extra vampy and ridiculous about it), but the prospect of puzzling out Amaya's actual age stopped her.

On the one hand, she had a fairly good idea that they were roughly the same age. On the other, she also had a vague feeling that she was the older of the two of them (though, again, Irene was wrong about how large a margin that was), and after a moment's pursed-lipped consideration, she ventured, "Thirty...two?"

She was pitching a little low, she thought, but it also seemed far too coincidental that they'd actually be the exact same age.

Not the exact same! There was a whole week and change between them!

The pleased look at Irene's guess had absolutely nothing to do with the low-ball on the age itself, and everything to do with the ensuing victory as the apparently better age-guesser, despite the fact that said title was bestowed upon her over nothing but the sheer blatant serendipity of it all.

She shook her head. "Up a bit more," she said, hitching a thumb in the air with a bit of a grin. "But not so much as that forty-one, either."

"Don't tell me we're practically twins," Irene replied, eyes lighting up. "Are you thirty-four today as well, love?"

She could be celebrating her Jesus birthday, Irene supposed, but with that prompting, the coincidence did seem a bit more likely.

Though, again, that week's difference did make for just enough room for a very well-suited water sign, and a very well-suited fire sign, if one believed in such things.

"Got it in two," Amaya said, in a faint echo of the earlier confirmation on her own guess, with an impressed nod and a grin that was far bigger than she'd entirely meant it to be, all entirely to blame on that brightness in Irene's eyes.

"Happiest birthday, then, Amaya," Irene told her, crossing over to lean on Amaya's actual workspace, now.

And if you didn't think she wasn't mentally committing the twenty-fourth of March to her memory for future reasons....

"How were you planning to celebrate? And who's the cake from?"

Another suitor? Irene hadn't had a rival in forever! Perhaps a duel could be had!

"I wasn't," Amaya admitted, honestly and frankly, with a shrug of her shoulders, because she really hadn't even bothered to remember the damn thing, much less make plans to celebrate it, and then the other question brought out a snort. "And that baked behemoth is the work of none other than Wente Fey, my neighbor back in Daventry. Runs the bakery out there, and he's about as soft as his biscuits. Always insists on sending me one of these every year for my birthday, and I swear, each one's bigger'n the last..."

And not much for duels, Irene, sorry. Much more of a 'hug it out' type of person, so you could see why Amaya was such a fan.

"Oh no, what a shame. He'll have to keep outdoing himself," Irene teased, giving the cupcake a slightly more critical look. "He seems talented, too. 'Least from the decorating, anyway."

She leaned her chin in her hand, darting a thoughtful glance from Amaya to her cupcake and back again. "I'm amazed it traveled as well as it did."

Kind of made her think Daventry wasn't all that hard to get to, actually, and Irene was sort of amazed at herself that she'd never considered that before. Mostly due to her own self-imposed inability to go home, really.

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Blackstone Foundry and Forge; Friday [03/24].

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