still looking for a smith: attn Zara (also open)

[lionbright]

For whatever reasons mainly his lame typist Lleu still hasn't managed to rid himself of the iron thrall's bands around his throat and wrist. He is on the terrace lashing lathes of wood together for Arthur to practice with, but would easily wander off elsewhere given the right motive...

T: we are so sporadic. :p

Comments

[russet_goddess]

Zara does not like the Mansion at all, and goes there rarely if at all, but it's Dress Time again, so she's wheeling a barrow across the lawn towards the porch, a barrow laden with vivid splashes of colour and texture, glints of lace and beading. Her hair is scarfed back as usual, and her dress is green (make of that what you will).

[russet_goddess]

"Sometimes."

[lionbright]

He doesn't speak again. But with his free hand Lleu drags the iron against the stone wall as they walk, so that sparks fly. It looks effortless, but must take strength and endurance that he doesn't look as though he has.

[russet_goddess]

Zara stops. "You lightin' it up, that what y're doing?"

[lionbright]

He jumps a little when she talks. He's as skittish as a cat.

"I hadn't thought. I just do it. Like biting nails."

[russet_goddess]

"Be there in a minute, stop fussing." She points ahead to a warm and pulsing light. "That's th' forge."

[embitterdinetna]

And it is: at once strange, impressive, and peculiarly homely. Despite the stone walls, the stone ceiling (it must be ventilated somehow, but the details are obscured by smoke and shadow), the hum of energy that even Lleu can probably feel through his feet, there is a familiar hot sooty smell and businesslike atmosphere.

And in the corner a figure straightens, or mostly straightens, turning toward them unhurried. "What's this, then?"

[man, it would be nice if LJ told me these things...]

[russet_goddess]

Zara tugs at Lleu. "He's got shackles on. Wants 'em off."

[lionbright]

oh.

he is of a very prosaic and real world, but he is named for a god and is the son of a man who will become a legend. He is awed.

He's quite young, still a teen, and the mingled arrogance and subservience in his manner--not directed toward anyone, just there all the time--makes him seem defiantly under attack rather than sullen.

He kneels and bows his head, silently.

[russet_goddess]

She has no patience for anyone else's awe (Hephaestus is hers, don't think you can look a little amazed and vulnerable and get adopted too) and she abandons him having brought him this far, slinks over to her corner of the forge room and drops herself down, watching (see how she fits here? this is hers, see how she belongs).

[embitterdinetna]

"Tch," Hephaestus says, a sound like earth shifting, not displeased. "So I see." He limps forward, and surveys Lleu with what might be a forbidding expression, until you catch the glint in his dark eyes. "Does he speak?"

[russet_goddess]

"Give him a prod, he will," unhelpfully.

[lionbright]

"I owe the lady a debt of gratitude for bringing me here," he explains to Hephaistus, "and for her sake I will do all you bid me."

[embitterdinetna]

"Very generous of you." Hephaestus is amused, in his dry way. "Come, let me look."

[lionbright]

He holds up one wrist, head still bowed.

OMG I STARTED THIS THREAD IN MARCH. I DO NOT KNOW WHY YOU PEOPLE PUT UP WITH ME. GET THE DAMN THINGS OFF ALREADY!!!

[lionbright]

I'm back. see below. I am so sorry to be such a half wit!

http://lionbright.livejournal.com/1280.html?thread=76032#t76032