S I M O
He enjoyed working with his hands, whether that was hunching over and peering intently into the face of his art like a mother looking at her child or swinging the hammer hard enough to beat the metal into submission. Sometimes he could hear the hammer strike iron in his dreams, or wake up next to a blazing forge on the nights when his mind was particularly unsettled. His creation was his therapy, along with the tiny greenhouse that he kept hidden in the forge’s back rooms. He worked now, though more now with the broom he used to usher out the dirt and cobwebs of the stall he had chosen to house his wares. He was so intent on the work that he hardly noticed the shadow pass over him -- his brows furrowed in concentration until her voice broke through.
He blinked, drawn away from his thoughts as he lifted his head to meet the eyes of a woman. His first thought was of her beauty, her coat like a luxurious cream sprinkled with cinnamon. He found himself struck by her, his throat as dry as if he had decoded to swallow all of the sand of the Mors Desert. Her eyes were like a mirror to his own sky blue ones, his work all but forgotten as he studied her. Had he any skill with paints, he might have tried to put her likeness to a canvas or if he had been any good with words he might have tried to pen a poem to explain it.
Instead, he swallowed roughly and forced a smile to his freckled lips and forced himself to look down at the piece that she was admiring. Ah, the blue one. It had taken him months to collect all the pieces, months more to create exactly the image he had held in his mind’s eye. It was one of those pieces that could imagine a man or woman wearing, one he might have kept for himself if he had not thought he would be judged by his fellow Solterrans. He closed his eyes for a moment as his smile grew into a wry grin, the pair of tiny wings situated just behind his slightly curved ears flared out. They often had a mind of their own, but he did not try this time to smooth them down. ”You have an eye for the exquisite, miss!” He said quite cheerfully, opening his eyes once more. ”Your words are too kind for a humble metalsmith, like I.” He dipped his head gently, strands of inky black hair falling forward into his face. He brushed them back, a little embarrassed by her praise. ”I gathered the stones from the bottom of the lake last summer.” He said, recalling the trouble he had went to to get them.
”I like to think that the stones drank from the summer sky’s reflection on the water.” He babbled, his smile still bright. He looked upon her again, the subtle scent of Delumine clinging to her skin like dew drops. ”I’m Simo.” He offered, settling the broom that he held telepathically aside, forgotten for now in favor of the potential customer. ”You’ll have to forgive me, I wasn’t quite ready for business yet. The markets don’t usually start until nightfall, but I suppose I should have expected the dawn-treaders to be out and about this time of day.”
@Messalina
No problem! Hope you don’t mind a chatty cathy xD
coding by Avis
No problem! Hope you don’t mind a chatty cathy xD
coding by Avis
