Blackstone Forge and Foundry - Wednesday

[magnificent_bitch_face]

Percy had spent most of the week organizing his work area, adjusting it to resemble his workshop back home as closely as possible. It wasn’t exactly like home, but given the circumstances, he would make do. No tailcoat or fancy ascot today—he wore an old shirt stained with soot and a beat-up leather apron for protection.

Stoking the fire to a full burn, Percy began forging a simple hook with intricate twists and bends.

He took his time melting down the scrap metal he had procured from a nearby junkyard, carefully pouring it into molds. Once the metal had cooled enough, he moved on to the fun part:

Beating the crap out of it. Twisting it. Bending it. Two pieces broke early on, but Percy simply tossed them back into the fire to melt down again.

Gone were his well-bred manners and protocols. He’d been stranded here for weeks with no sign of a way home. A few minutes in and he was soaked with sweat and his usual neat hair was flopped down on his face.

Beating the crap out of metal turned out to be some much-needed therapy.