Lyr is staring at a beautiful, curving short-sword. It is displayed neatly—despite the otherwise anarchic shop—and is significantly nicer than the one he is issued by the Warden for patrols and guard duty. It catches the too-blue winter sky above; and where Lyr stands, he catches a glimpse of his own reflection. A bright vermillion eye peers back, impassive save for the metallic waiver of the metal itself.
The shop is primarily used for Terrastella’s elite Halycon unit, he knows. He has no wings, and is no Halycon fighter though he might like to be, in another life. The sky, and flying, seems to him as romantic as the sea. There were several ospreys that hunted the Rapax; Lyr remembers that when his father took him in the woods to harvest for medical supplies or sacred herbs—white sage, frankincense, verbena, mistletoe—he would watch the birds of prey wheel and dive, lunging for unseen and swift fish. The memory reminds him of his father’s nearly pacifistic nature, and, and—
Lyr stops there.
He breathes.
Lyr admires the weapon for several seconds more; and then he clears his throat, looking for a shopkeep or blacksmith responsible for the establishment. It smells strongly of leather, oils, and the much stronger overlay of coal dust and iron. Beneath it is something sweater—wax?—and the slight, lingering odour of sulphur. It smells unlike anything Lyr has experienced before—and yet, it seems strangely abandoned. The forge is not burning; there is no chimney smoke. He enters the shop and, concerned by the lack of light and noise, presses into the forge itself. “Hello?” He is surprised at the clutter; his hoof catches a metal object on the ground, and it clangs so loudly agains the cobblestones Lyr nearly leaps from his skin.
He cringes, and in the silence that follows he detects a strange, soft sound. It is breathy, and then rough—Lyr realises it is a nearly inaudible snoring. He finds the shopkeeper face-down at a workman’s table. Lyr clears his throat, rather loudly. “Excuse me, sir? I don’t mean to disturb you… the sign outside says you are open?”
@
Coding by Avis.
i know i am damned for the pyre
no matter how bright you glow when you call for me
