Zephyr certainly was a safe, stable constant with the comfortable caveat of having some absurd, potentially even fictional father that Amaya, most importantly of all, didn't have to face in the days following the whole messy event. Amaya frowned at the forge, waiting for the metal, and closed her eyes, just a moment, to just focus on the familiar, also comforting feel of the heat wafting up to her face.

"Took care of a few lingering swords that had been hanging around on the wayside," she said. "Managed to knock out some cunning new helms for the lobsters, too, I suspect that's where most of her time and energy went to. Solid work, too, but that's hardly surprising, considering where she got it from."