Post by Refia on Nov 3, 2012 23:46:36 GMT -5
She would careen forward, weight on her toes, with fascination etched into her features. Auburn irises skimmed over each item with a keen eye. From daggers, to long swords, to every accessory; each weapon was carved to perfection. Truly all of these pieces were a master’s work. Pleased with what she saw, the petite teen would release a hum, before approaching the counter.
Placing her palms upon the splintering wood, now standing on her tiptoes, Refia’s gaze would trail to the man. He was absorbed into his current work. He was so serious; it was written in the way his dark brows arched downward and his strong jaw shut stern. The current blacksmith was broad shouldered, muscled arms carved from his occupation, and a height about six feet. His brunette hair was pulled back with loose strands flying free against the heat of the forge.
When his steel gaze finally fell on the teen, Refia felt a chill run down her spine. Pushing through her uneasiness, Refia licked her dry lips. ”I’m sorry for disrupting you sir,” flashing a warm smile toward the blacksmith. ”Do you have any equipment for mages?”
Remaining silent, the bear of a man would stride over toward his customer. Calloused large hands made contact with the counter, vibrations rippled in the old wood. Refia would withdraw her hands and take a moment to examine for any injuries. Not finding a single splinter, with a sigh in relief when finding none, the job master would match the man’s gaze. His voice hit the air like thunder, causing the girl to inch back, as he inquired. “Mage, you say, eh?” He’d take in the sight of the petite frame. “Seems ‘bout right”
Without another word he’d slip into the back, leaving Refia to admire the works again. Humming a sweet tune the apprentice would gently lift a dagger, examine the sleek metal to her satisfaction, and then place it back on the rack. Refia repeated the action several times before a voice broke her concentration. “A bit too fascinated into blades for a mage, aren’t you?”
The grizzly blacksmith had returned long ago; expecting the girl to be a thief, he had watched in dull entertainment (amused at her expression when she was caught red handed). What he observed was far from a thief and, almost instantly, he knew what she was. Seeing the girl bite her lip, failing to stop from chewing, he spoke once more. ”Calm down. You’re not thief to my eye, but someone interested into this class.” The strawberry blonde teenager wasn’t comfortable with his words. A thunderous chuckle escaped the man’s cracked lips. ”Missy, what are you? I reckon an apprentice.”
”I-I am. Well, was.” Once more at the counter, the orbs fell to the stardust rod. ”How much for that?”
Hours had passed by the time Refia exited the shop, a large grin plastered on her face, and the rod clasped in her palm. She had gotten the weapon for nothing – money wise – and giggled with anticipation. Tomorrow, before the crack of dawn, she had to report for her first day to her job. Even if it wasn’t with her father, Refia had promised him to become a blacksmith just like him. This determination led to negotiating over prices, when bartering failed, Refia approached with a new idea: she’d work off her debt in the shop. Accustomed to these types of debates, the smith had raised with taking her in as an apprentice; Refia couldn’t deny that offer and accepted.
She was jolted from her thoughts as her grasp felt limp. Lashes fluttered and Refia would gaze down to see an empty palm. An alarming realization struck the job master: someone had stolen her weapon! Hastily her auburn irises skimmed the streets and found a cloaked figure darting to and fro; a rod was clasped with whitened knuckles. Lashes now fell on narrowing eyes as Refia would release a bellow. ”Oh no you don’t!”
Instinctively Refia gave chase, her long legs sculpted with muscle due to her travels. Gliding past citizens, the mage’s gaze never left their target. By this point the thief had caught onto their pursuer and, with an act of desperation, knocked barrels of Grashal Pickles (imported from Lindblum no doubt) to slow the teen down; there was no such luck. Despite a nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell, Refia took one graceful leap. Landing firmly upon the cobblestone, Refia continued the hunt.
The prey was tiring and the predator caught up. With one firm grasp, Refia would snatch the cloak and give a sharp yank. The thief stumbled and fell on his bottom, the cloak ripped off in the process. He was a year older than her, raven hair flying everywhere, and eyes of jade venomously fixed on Refia. Releasing the stardust rod and with a hop, the thief was standing up; ready to pounce like a feral cat. A glistening dagger was drawn and the boy launched forward. Reflexes honed from past fights Refia would drop down to avoid the wide open attack. With no hesitation she swung her slender legs, clipping the man in the heels, knocking him off balance.
However, maneuvering from her current position, Refia shot up in time to snare his wrist. The weapon would drop as the normally-a-white-mage would force the wrist to make contact with the male’s spine; pinning it there with an unknown force. ”Don’t you ever try stealing from me” —a pause that allowed both bodies to sharply intake air—”I’ve dealt with bigger thugs then you before!”
With her focus only on the criminal, Refia never caught a glimpse of someone who may have watched the whole show.
Placing her palms upon the splintering wood, now standing on her tiptoes, Refia’s gaze would trail to the man. He was absorbed into his current work. He was so serious; it was written in the way his dark brows arched downward and his strong jaw shut stern. The current blacksmith was broad shouldered, muscled arms carved from his occupation, and a height about six feet. His brunette hair was pulled back with loose strands flying free against the heat of the forge.
When his steel gaze finally fell on the teen, Refia felt a chill run down her spine. Pushing through her uneasiness, Refia licked her dry lips. ”I’m sorry for disrupting you sir,” flashing a warm smile toward the blacksmith. ”Do you have any equipment for mages?”
Remaining silent, the bear of a man would stride over toward his customer. Calloused large hands made contact with the counter, vibrations rippled in the old wood. Refia would withdraw her hands and take a moment to examine for any injuries. Not finding a single splinter, with a sigh in relief when finding none, the job master would match the man’s gaze. His voice hit the air like thunder, causing the girl to inch back, as he inquired. “Mage, you say, eh?” He’d take in the sight of the petite frame. “Seems ‘bout right”
Without another word he’d slip into the back, leaving Refia to admire the works again. Humming a sweet tune the apprentice would gently lift a dagger, examine the sleek metal to her satisfaction, and then place it back on the rack. Refia repeated the action several times before a voice broke her concentration. “A bit too fascinated into blades for a mage, aren’t you?”
The grizzly blacksmith had returned long ago; expecting the girl to be a thief, he had watched in dull entertainment (amused at her expression when she was caught red handed). What he observed was far from a thief and, almost instantly, he knew what she was. Seeing the girl bite her lip, failing to stop from chewing, he spoke once more. ”Calm down. You’re not thief to my eye, but someone interested into this class.” The strawberry blonde teenager wasn’t comfortable with his words. A thunderous chuckle escaped the man’s cracked lips. ”Missy, what are you? I reckon an apprentice.”
”I-I am. Well, was.” Once more at the counter, the orbs fell to the stardust rod. ”How much for that?”
Hours had passed by the time Refia exited the shop, a large grin plastered on her face, and the rod clasped in her palm. She had gotten the weapon for nothing – money wise – and giggled with anticipation. Tomorrow, before the crack of dawn, she had to report for her first day to her job. Even if it wasn’t with her father, Refia had promised him to become a blacksmith just like him. This determination led to negotiating over prices, when bartering failed, Refia approached with a new idea: she’d work off her debt in the shop. Accustomed to these types of debates, the smith had raised with taking her in as an apprentice; Refia couldn’t deny that offer and accepted.
She was jolted from her thoughts as her grasp felt limp. Lashes fluttered and Refia would gaze down to see an empty palm. An alarming realization struck the job master: someone had stolen her weapon! Hastily her auburn irises skimmed the streets and found a cloaked figure darting to and fro; a rod was clasped with whitened knuckles. Lashes now fell on narrowing eyes as Refia would release a bellow. ”Oh no you don’t!”
Instinctively Refia gave chase, her long legs sculpted with muscle due to her travels. Gliding past citizens, the mage’s gaze never left their target. By this point the thief had caught onto their pursuer and, with an act of desperation, knocked barrels of Grashal Pickles (imported from Lindblum no doubt) to slow the teen down; there was no such luck. Despite a nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell, Refia took one graceful leap. Landing firmly upon the cobblestone, Refia continued the hunt.
The prey was tiring and the predator caught up. With one firm grasp, Refia would snatch the cloak and give a sharp yank. The thief stumbled and fell on his bottom, the cloak ripped off in the process. He was a year older than her, raven hair flying everywhere, and eyes of jade venomously fixed on Refia. Releasing the stardust rod and with a hop, the thief was standing up; ready to pounce like a feral cat. A glistening dagger was drawn and the boy launched forward. Reflexes honed from past fights Refia would drop down to avoid the wide open attack. With no hesitation she swung her slender legs, clipping the man in the heels, knocking him off balance.
However, maneuvering from her current position, Refia shot up in time to snare his wrist. The weapon would drop as the normally-a-white-mage would force the wrist to make contact with the male’s spine; pinning it there with an unknown force. ”Don’t you ever try stealing from me” —a pause that allowed both bodies to sharply intake air—”I’ve dealt with bigger thugs then you before!”
With her focus only on the criminal, Refia never caught a glimpse of someone who may have watched the whole show.
