If there was one benefit to hanging around the settlement more often - and in human form at that - it was that Cera became privy to the flow of information that existed wherever language planted its roots. After Smith has told him of the other crafters and metalworkers in the town, the boy had been waiting for a time such as this. He had been a forger since he was little more than a babe; drawing complex ideas in damo clay-packed sand, whittling away his days trailing after the current forger, chattering question after question like a particularly persistent buzzard. Cera's blood was molten fire, it had been his calling for many, many years.
So when he hears that the dilapidated smithery is being repaired, Cera scarcely pauses before he ventures out to find it - and the person who intended to rebuild it.
In another life perhaps he would have been the one to do it. Even now, few things brought him morenjoy than designing and shaping new creations. However, after years of loss and change, Cera found he could make a difference in the lives of others in new ways. So while he would certainly be intrigued and perhaps inquire as to an open position...well, he'd leave the ownership of the profession to another.
When he arrives he's pleasantly surprised to see Are chatting away already, and Cera smiles as he tentatively knocks against what remains of the frame before stepping in. "Sorry for the intrusion, I heard there was a forge being rebuilt? I've constructed some in the past as a metalsmith, maybe I can help?" It's spoken equally shyly and in a rush, self-conscious smile tugging at his lips, as if he had to blurt it all out as quick as possible to convince the other man to allow his continued presence.
