The Undying Fire

Brokkrid felt tired and sore after working on the airship all the way here. She had traded a passage from New Haven all the way to Halo for working in the engine room, and had departed the ship with aching muscles and a pouch with two thin coins in it. Not even enough for a room for the night, she knew that she would have to barter for a room. As she traversed the taverns, each one turned her away until one, which was already bursting at the seams took her in, two coins for a hot meal, a scrub up in the morning, and she could have a spot in front of the hearth for the night. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was a far cry from freezing to death.

Brokkrid opened her bleary eyes to the prodding of the hearth-keeper and hostess that was trying to get to the dying fire. She moved her muzzy and sore muscles over and slept for a good solid half hour afterward, listening to the crackling mutterings of the fire until she finally awoke, took the hostess up on her offer of a bath, which she sorely needed, and worked for her breakfast waiting tables as their waiter had not shown up for his morning duties. He arrived a bit late, complaining that his mother was ill and received a sound thumping with the readily available wooden mugs that used to be filled with beer by the hostess of the inn.

Feeling that she had overstayed her welcome, Brokkrid bowed to the hostess for her generosity and made her way out into the mid-morning bite of Halo. She rubbed her hands together and set about setting up her makeshift and mobile forge. She petitioned for and bartered for some fuel and set up the shop with a piece of fire that she also borrowed from another smith. He said that she was just borrowing it, and to return the fire when she was done with it.

Looking strangely at him, she thought it was a joke, laughing until she saw the look on his face. The laugh turned into a rather awkward cough as she looked at the deadpan expression of the other smith.

“How in the gods’ names am I to return your piece of fire?” She asked, frowning at him. He took out an iron box with holes in it, and two handles and pointed to it, “Put the heart of the fire in here and return it to me when you’re done. No fire may ever be put out here.” He was so serious she dared not take him at his word, especially when he handed her the fire gently and carefully using the contraption and set her on her way. She returned to the makeshift forge, fanning the flame and feeding it the food that he had given her to keep it alive before beating her hammer on her small portable anvil.

She always used a form of this poem to bring in customers, and she hoped that it would bring some today, “Fire and forge is up for a day, edges honed razor fine, gone tomorrow but here today, a bit of your coin for a bit of my time. Worker of blades, hammer and flame, fine wares to sell for coin and fame, Brokkrid’s smithy is taking orders! Come one come all, before the day’s over!” She then went back to tend to her flame in her little forge, keeping it just hot enough that she would be able to work anything that came her way which needed mending. She had less wares on hand to sell, but would be trying to make custom orders here. Looking at the architecture, she expected that the more southern designs with their sensuous curls would fetch higher prices than the northern ones, rigid with hard and sturdy lines. Now all she had to do was wait for her first customer of the day.

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Out of the office for the initial part of the day, patrolling with the rest of the Shields had filled a better portion of the morning, and before long he’d developed a routine with Erebos to practice his walking. The infant would toddle along for a few steps, giggle with glee, then topple unceremoniously into the snow with such illustrious laughter than all Deimos could do was chuckle in return. The youth was getting far better at picking himself up and maneuvering along with only a few wobbles, all made more difficult by his large snowsuit.

Then the broadcast from Vox came through, and sent the Warden into that primordial trepidation that warred down through his spine. Though he’d been cross with Flora over her latest actions, he’d never wished her ill will; and he could only imagine the upheaval ensuing beyond their reach of Halo. Putting it out of his mind was no easy task either, because clenched jaws and impassive features racing towards the Barracks, to letters and parchment, weren’t going to make the ramparts any easier.

Gods, and then there was Ru…

Loosening a long, slow breath, and already half-coordinating a draft in his head, he scooped Erebos up in his arms and began the slow march towards another route within Snowcloak. Trying not to embody the apprehension welling in his chest, for his son and the world around them at large, he settled into listening. The hubbub of passersby didn’t seem too drastic or panicked about the situation, perhaps they too had put it aside, but an unfamiliar call rang through his ears.

Tilting his head vaguely, eyes narrowing, he heard a stranger calling, hoping to snag someone with her wares. Given that he hadn’t seen her before, and his overly cautious, protective notions, he began to approach, Erebos waving with his overly-large mittens as they made their way over. “Hello,” he offered in his residual, low rumble. Always intrigued by crafting and smithwork, given the nature of his creation magic, he glanced over her wares and trinkets. A distraction, a deterrent from the framework of machinations spiraling through his mind. “What is your finest piece?”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

"My finest piece?" Brokkrid asked, as a man, a little taller than she walked up to the forge. She looked him over twice, "You mean that I am selling or that I have ever made?" She smiled sharply, she enjoyed a bit of word play from time to time, but sometimes her mouth got ahead of her. It was one of the reasons she was a nomad, and it was part of the reason that she had no real money to speak of today as she worked the bellows, bringing the fire to the right temperature.

"Sorry, my mouth runs away with me sometimes." She shook her head, "The finest piece that I have about me right now is in that bag right there to your left." She indicated with a nod to her right, and his left. A bundle about the size of a small fire pit was there, and was one of the things she had lugged all the way from New Haven, but she had kept it longer than even that.

Should he open the bag he would find a shield, a bear's head worked with steel that fit her arm perfectly, which would be about half an inch small for him, that had silver teeth, and silver eyes worked into it. It was Brokkrid's shield, she had never once thought of selling it, but for all of her years of lugging it around three to be exact, she had used it exactly never. She had made it shortly after being mugged and losing everything she owned to bandits.

Figuring that she should be able to defend herself, and fancying that a sword and board was the best way of doing that, she had fashioned the sword that hung at her side, the length of her forearm, its handle worn and its blade as new as the day she had forged it, and the bear shield that she kept strapped to her back over her other gear. She had polished it almost every night at first, but now it was just one more thing that she lugged around hither and thither, wherever her feet took her.

"That's the finest thing that doesn't have magic, I'd wager, for at least a good square mile. It took me sixteen days to get the teeth, the eyes, and the mouth just right." She boasted, and it looked about ready to snarl at anyone who looked into its eyes. "It, however, makes a poor bedfellow, and also won't put food in my mouth." She said, musingly, still working the bellows, "What're you in the market for, might I ask?"

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

It wouldn’t have mattered if Deimos opted to clarify the inquiry – the woman detailed her abilities and creations at large. His brow arched as she persisted through the melee of goods, wares, and contortions, and putting Erebos down briefly, as the youth clung to his long leg, he opened the bag to reveal the shield. “Very nice,” he offered in response, for it was – and clearly had taken dedication to meld and mold, given her description. He’d never worn a shield – not frequently anyway and certainly not in Caido – given his practicalities and pragmatics with the incantations laden under his skin. He placed it back within its threshold, ensuring it wouldn’t be ruined or marred.

“Merely browsing,” he responded, given that most things here he could create entirely on his own. Erebos grew a bit bolder and waved at the woman with his largely-mittened infant hand. “I have not seen you in Halo before.” And gods knew, before his time as Warden, he would’ve persisted in avoidance and reticence; his role, fortunately or not, ensured he had to go out of his way sometimes to not be the indifferent, stone figure. “I try to make it a habit to greet those in our region.” Extending his hand in introductions, and keeping one on his son so the youth didn’t topple over, he gave another residual rumble in tone. “I am Deimos. Who are you?”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

She smiled as the man's eyes roamed over the shield and she watched his roving eyes, all thoughts that she would be able to sell something to him dimming into an ember, as she remembered the fire and stoked the coals into a more workable flame, feeding it like a ravenous hearth-wolf. It was never satiated, but could at least feed contentedly on the wood, gnawing the bones in sharp snaps as its ravenous jaws bit into the bark, consumed the meat beneath, blackened the white flesh beneath. While she watched the flames she listened and heard that he hadn't seen her in Halo before.

"I am Brokkrid Deft-Hands." She said, "The title that I was given by my master when I was apprenticing under him for smithing." She explained and turned her eyes to him looking at his hand she tilted her head, then extended her own, not knowing what was in store for it. She hadn't shaken anyone's hand before, having not been raised in the higher society of nobility. She wasn't an established merchant, didn't belong to a guild, and so she usually worked with people who had little to no military experience. Being visited by a lord, and having the custom of shaking hands thrust upon her was a new and alien experience.

"Why do you greet everyone in your region?" She asked, part curious, part suspicious. She hadn't even been in the town long enough to set up entirely, much less cause any trouble. If she was sent packing now, she would have no money to show for it, and would start off worse than she had in years. She usually tried to at least make enough money to settle into a new area, but had wanted to catch the airship since she had the money for it to Halo. If she were put out of the territory, she didn't know where she would sleep. With winter fast approaching, it wasn't just uncomfortable, she had seen people die of exposure in their sleep on the side of the road, their belongings picked through by passers by, and their bodies worried by wild dogs.

The suspicion played across her face like a musical score while the fear of the repercussions of not being able to do business danced in the back of her gaze as her smile hardened into a half-desperate mask. Hopefully this man, who she assumed to be a guard, would be on his way sooner rather than later, and wouldn't escort her from the territory. This shift happened in the time it took her to extend her hand, waiting for him to initiate his strange greeting.

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

The name was unequally unfamiliar; not something carried on the winds or in parchment. That scarcely mattered though – for there were always a great deal of people involved in their daily lives, and not aiming to endeavor and dig themselves into the colossal trials and tribulations surrounding Caido.

The reactions thereafter though, including never having shaken another’s hand, or the inquiry, almost made him laugh. He stifled it with a sharp intake of breath, then deftly followed through on the greeting, head tilting vaguely. Instead of answering her question directly, because it was clear she didn’t know who he was, he gave a brief smile, so only one corner of his mouth lifted. “Why not?” Not only did it familiarize him and many others with one another, but it also provided him with networks of information – if someone deigned to be a threat to his region, if someone was merely passing through and wanted more sagacity and experience in the wintry world…his machinations could conjure multitudes and platitudes.

Whether or not it unnerved her mattered little to him – he had no intentions of driving her out. Not when she was simply smithing and selling. “What brings you here?”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

"Plying my trade in the north was something that I always wanted to try my hand at." Brokkrid admitted, "My mother said she had always wanted to visit, to see the hot springs, and to enjoy the lights up here. After all, a flame seems brighter in the darkness, and the winter is said to be spectacular up here." She noted the shaking of hands for future use, putting it to the back of her mind as a greeting of the northern folks.

"I've also seen the works of many of the metalsmiths from Halo while I was traveling down south, so I thought I might learn under a master Smith here if I can find one. The geometric patterns have always fit my aesthetic, as I have more hard lines than soft ones." She motioned to her own angular features and smirked. "My goal in life is to see the entirety of the world, and make pieces of my work in every part of it-" She paused to project the fire again and shrugged, "That way when the song of my life is ended there will be echoes of me throughout the world, whenever someone uses a kitchen knife I've made, or protects themselves with one of my shields, my song will echo on, broken, but still there."

It was something that her mother had wanted but hadn't been able to achieve because she had given birth to Brokkrid. Raising her had taken a lot of work, and by the time that Brokkrid had been self reliant, her mother had contracted the wasting disease, relying more and more on her magic, until she had passed in her sleep.

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

Given no answer to his previous question, he let it fade away, listening instead to the reasons why the woman had traversed here – granting a brief snort at the notions of ‘spectacular’ winters here, and picking Erebos up again when he started getting fussy (the waving, after all, hadn’t worked either).

Propping the child in his arms, his head tilted again, taking in the information, his gaze roaming across the wares again. “Understandable. It is a unique experience here.” Then his eyes glanced towards the streets nearby, recalling any master blacksmiths that might give her further insight and wisdom. “You may want to check in with the Thomases further up this road. They could give you some advice too.” He gave another quirk of a smile at her notions of designing – as he often strived to do similar aspects, embedding what he knew about individuals and characters, to grant and given them something noteworthy and matching to who they were as a person.

But it’d never been about him, or any notions of legacy. That would come through actions, the leagues and legions of how he’d strived to protect.

“An interesting goal,” he murmured instead, piercing gaze landing on more of the metal works. “I create as well, though I use magic.”

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

The notion of crafting with magic instantly piqued Brokkrid's interest. She no longer sent her magical tendrils out to the fire but turned her full attention to the man, "Oh? You not only greet everyone, but also are a crafter hut use magic?" Her eyes flashed hungrily. It was something that she yearned for, but had found no one to teach her. She decided to try to tamp down her desire from bubbling over while writing down the name 'Thomas' on a scrap piece of parchment and placing an iron ingot on it for later. She would see if they would be willing to show her how to craft more in the style of the north and Halo in particular.

"I would love to do that, so far I only have, under my belt, the ability to control fire to a very limited extent for a very limited time." She motioned to the forge, "So I put it to good use, but I've longed to be able to use my magic for crafting since I was a little older than your Wean there." She smiled and handed the child a toy she had made out of some scrap iron, a small owl with no sharp edges and large enough to not pose a choking hazard. When a wheel was turned in its back the wings would flap and the head would spin around.

She looked back to Deimos, "Are you taking on apprentices for magic?" She decided the best approach for getting what she wanted was to ask for it directly. After all, the worst thing he could do is evict her, and tell her no.

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

“We all started somewhere,” he mentioned – because it was the truth. Entering this world from his previous one had been bewildering and eye-opening; strength sapped, and then eventually regained. In time and measure, in experience and guidance, she, like so many others, would be able to hone more and more. Her determination and perseverance would instill just how quickly she could snag and enhance. “And considering you will need fire, water, earth, and air to truly utilize creation magic to its full potential, you are already heading in the right direction.”

At the attention finally placed upon him, and with a toy involved, Erebos grinned, giggling as his hands grasped the smooth owl; flipping the wheel more than once and marveling at the spinning head. “Thank you,” Deimos obliged; because while he’d made many things for the boy, such an object wasn’t among them.

As far as apprentices, his eyes widened. “I do not, and typically most of my time is divided in between Warden and General duties.” And any other dilemma that surfaced across Caido. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he considered some other possibilities. “The Arcane Academy may be an option for you though. My wife, Evie, runs it.” Watching and giving a chuckle as Erebos continued to spin the owl around, his gaze eventually flickered back to the crafter. “I can always help you with training.” But not a full time option - not with the responsibilities he already had set upon him.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

"Not the first time I have heard that one-" She laughed, remembering the sparring session with Sah in the maze as a means to be shown the way out. Brokkrid watched the child with the same tenderness that she showed to anyone worth the small attentions. Then she turned her full attention back to the man, "Heading in the right direction is a good sign. To be honest I've just been flailing in the dark this entire time." She acknowledged the thank you with a magnanimous nod. She had a soft part of her heart reserved for children, having been a child herself when she was thrust out into the world. Caido was a cruel place when it wanted to be, and if she could make it a little less so, then that was good.

"Sounds like you're some sort of master of the guard." She dipped her head in respect, now grasping a scant bit of his true title, "What is 'warden?' I am guessing that it is the guard of the city." She looked about, "Though you're the first patrol that I've run into since being here, truth be told."

Brokkrid finally attended to the subject of her training, "Whatever help I can get from whoever would be amazing. Flailing in the dark doesn't do much good with training my magic it seems." A sheepish grin spread across her features, turning the sharp edges of her face a little softer, bringing to the fore what she was told feminine aspects were: fragility, uncertainty- Not that she ascribed to any of these in her day-to-day. She would also love to see some of the men go through the things that women did on a daily basis.

"Your wife Evie, do you know if her school is accepting any new students? I would hate to be a bother to you, unless you're offering a lesson here and there?" Brokkrid asked, pulling a loose strand of her hair and tucking it behind her ear as she heard another merchant peddling some hot bread. Her stomach protested the absence of a meal and she covered it with a cough, moving the bellows to let the fire stretch its straining incandescent muscles as it masticated the wood, turning it to coke and coals.

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

He shrugged at the semblances; even if she’d heard it multiple times, sometimes they needed to be heard in numerous occasions. Meanwhile, Erebos was thoroughly occupied with the owl, and only needed to be deterred from putting it directly in his mouth, Deimos gently prying the infant’s hand away from the gaping aperture.

There seemed to be a misunderstanding of his role, which was out of the norm – but then again, the Sword had made himself widely known, and perhaps sometimes relied solely on that, rather than having to explain. “Warden is the title for the leader of Halo.” He arched a brow at ‘not seeing any patrols’, but then again, if the Shields made themselves incredibly overt, then there wouldn’t be any amusing, furtive measures countered. Regardless, he made a mental note to check in with them later.

But then they were back onto the subject of incantations. “We can try. In early days of magic use, sometimes it is testing it to see how far you can go.” Knowing and understanding the limitations of power – and to stop before something far more drastic occurred; he’d know, he’d once pushed himself directly into that line of fire. “And Evie should be – I have not heard of her refusing anyone. I can offer a lesson once in a while,” he confirmed with a nod.

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same

Brokkrid finally understood who she was talking to and made a silent O with her mouth, her eyes going wide to reveal the stark green irises, like evergreen trees that cheerily stood between buildings and at the sides of streets here. "Oh uh," She said, very astute for what she was thinking which was: *Oh no, what kind of buffoon doesn't know the leader of the city's name, or the region for that matter, and why didn't you know what the title was? You really blundered on this one. So much for keeping your head down and keeping a low profile. This man is about as high profile as you can get.*

She gulped and nodded, "Oh. I am sorry about um, imposing on you sir." She said, her mannerism changing entirely to one of deference rather than one of rough equality. She didn't really know how to regain her social footing or how many feet she had stuffed into her mouth before being told that he was the leader of *all of Halo*.

She resisted the urge, barely, to facepalm and instead decided to focus on his offerings, "I uh, yeah! I would love it, having a formal teacher to help me out with that sort of thing. I don't know whether or not I should impose on you or your wife though, there's got to be someone more my-" She worked the bellows, making sure that the flame didn't go out since it was outlawed in these parts and she was standing in front of the literal head of Halo, "My caliber that can help me out. Someone less important than yourself that is."

DEIMOS

ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood

The reaction was amusing; he had to stifle a laugh, and settled he for an arch of his brow again to break out of the residual nonchalant mask. Truth be told though, status and roles and ranks didn’t matter much to him – they signified the intense amount of weight and responsibility across his shoulders, and he wouldn’t wish the position on anyone. He wouldn’t consider himself above anyone – the Sword was just another individual within Caido, trying to impart survival and shelter into a sanctity of his choice. A promise of protection for his loved ones and citizens. “No need to apologize.” He’d been nosey and curious about her actions and existence, given her unfamiliarity, and she certainly hadn’t sought him out.

His eyes flickered back to the fire, granting an unseen force of his own elemental incantations into the mix, perhaps to ease the worry sprinting through. “I am no more important than anyone else.” Busier in some parts, most likely, but he’d learned how to maintain a schedule and routine that worked for him, even if it meant ignoring those breaks he’d been told to impart. He wasn’t going to force her into anything though, so he fixed Erebos’ lopsided hat with one hand, gave her an out if it all seemed to be too much. “But if you want to work with someone else, we have quite a few Abandoned here too.” He could think of quite a few off the top of his head - Sah had multitudes of magic, Evie in obvious and already said ideals, Elizabeth might enjoy honing in smaller doses, even Amhran, with newly minted demigod prowess, could probably assist and grow simultaneously.

What she'd decide, was of course, entirely up to her.

[FIN]

watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same