"Ah, Elizabeth, a pleasure to meet you, I'm Brokkrid" Brokkrid replied, her voice warm and inviting, like the glow of a forge at dusk. "I spend my days as a blacksmith, shaping metal with fire's embrace. It's a craft that demands strength and precision, but I wouldn't trade it for anything else." She chuckled softly, the sound reminiscent of the crackle of embers. "My muscles sure help when you're hammering out a sword, but coaxing the flames to dance just right?" She shook her head, "I'm still working on my magic for that. Perhaps I could have been a bit kroe disciplined in my younger years and learned better control. I'm paying for it now. Every hammer stroke is harder because I can't control the flames as well as I'd like."
Brokkrid leaned back against the smooth stones of the hot spring, letting the heat seep into her weary bones. "You see," she continued, her verdant eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, "there's something almost magical about working with metal that kept my learning magic, well, stunted. Each piece our of my forge tells a story—whether it's a delicate pendant or a sturdy shield. When I strike the iron, I can feel its potential beneath my hammer. It's like coaxing a shy flame into a roaring fire." She gestured with her hands as if molding an invisible piece of metal between her fingers.
"Today was particularly rewarding," she added, a grin spreading across her face. "I completed an order for a set of armor for a local guard. They wanted something both functional and beautiful, so I infused some intricate designs that reflect the spirit of our town. It’s always satisfying to see my work go to someone who will wear it with pride."
"You know," Brokkrid said thoughtfully, "the forge can be quite therapeutic too. The rhythm of hammering is almost meditative—each strike releases tension and clears the mind." She smiled wryly. "Though I must admit, sometimes I get so lost in my work that I forget to take care of myself."
"But enough about me," Brokkrid said, shaking her head playfully to dispel any lingering thoughts of work. "What about you? You mentioned self-care—what do you do when you're not tending to your patients? Surely there’s more to you than just healing others." She leaned forward slightly, intrigued by the woman beside her.
With a playful glint in her eye, Brokkrid added, “Perhaps we should have a self-care day together! A bit of pampering followed by some forging sounds like the perfect balance.” She chuckled again, imagining Elizabeth at her forge—an unlikely duo working side by side. Then again, this delicate woman might not be suited to the ringing of steel against steel. She would like to be pampered some day, when she made it big. For now, she would remain a nomadic Smith, and she couldn't subject a woman as lovely as Elizabeth to that.
Brokkrid looked down at her own nudes frame, a more masculine than feminine form met her gaze, then looked longingly at Elizabeth. Could they really find something to fit her and make Brokkrid more effeminate?
Brokkrid leaned back against the smooth stones of the hot spring, letting the heat seep into her weary bones. "You see," she continued, her verdant eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, "there's something almost magical about working with metal that kept my learning magic, well, stunted. Each piece our of my forge tells a story—whether it's a delicate pendant or a sturdy shield. When I strike the iron, I can feel its potential beneath my hammer. It's like coaxing a shy flame into a roaring fire." She gestured with her hands as if molding an invisible piece of metal between her fingers.
"Today was particularly rewarding," she added, a grin spreading across her face. "I completed an order for a set of armor for a local guard. They wanted something both functional and beautiful, so I infused some intricate designs that reflect the spirit of our town. It’s always satisfying to see my work go to someone who will wear it with pride."
"You know," Brokkrid said thoughtfully, "the forge can be quite therapeutic too. The rhythm of hammering is almost meditative—each strike releases tension and clears the mind." She smiled wryly. "Though I must admit, sometimes I get so lost in my work that I forget to take care of myself."
"But enough about me," Brokkrid said, shaking her head playfully to dispel any lingering thoughts of work. "What about you? You mentioned self-care—what do you do when you're not tending to your patients? Surely there’s more to you than just healing others." She leaned forward slightly, intrigued by the woman beside her.
With a playful glint in her eye, Brokkrid added, “Perhaps we should have a self-care day together! A bit of pampering followed by some forging sounds like the perfect balance.” She chuckled again, imagining Elizabeth at her forge—an unlikely duo working side by side. Then again, this delicate woman might not be suited to the ringing of steel against steel. She would like to be pampered some day, when she made it big. For now, she would remain a nomadic Smith, and she couldn't subject a woman as lovely as Elizabeth to that.
Brokkrid looked down at her own nudes frame, a more masculine than feminine form met her gaze, then looked longingly at Elizabeth. Could they really find something to fit her and make Brokkrid more effeminate?
