September Open + 2 Closed

[somebodychildofanyone]

Who: River la Croix and YOU
What: Blacksmith open for business, sword practice, crippling coffee addiction, tailoring a cloak, & laying the dead to rest
When: [waves hand like a magician] September
Where: River's forge, Annabelle's tailoring shop, the festival green, the woods, Oak & Iron
Warnings: Likely discussions of death & necromancy, River's general bluntness about death, injury, and maiming, and I dunno about the woods thread, that's Dara's party


Glory to the Secondborn [Open | River's Forge]

River spends most of the time after her arrival in August getting her forge ready to go - all smiths need to ensure their workspace is just how they like it - but now she's completely open for business. The sign hanging out front proclaims INFERNAL ARMS AND ARMOR, with a second, smaller sign hanging beneath it: Custom Work Accepted.

Find River here five days a week, laboring over her anvil and forge. A smith's work is never done, and right now a great deal of her own is in the little things a town blacksmith does - helping the overall owner of the forge make nails and rivets, hammering out wire, repairing pots, pans, and tools, melting down broken equipment to either reclaim the metal or make into new tools, and the like. But she's eager to work on other things. River didn't train much as a traditional smith. She's an armorer, and the night, it is so very dark, isn't it?

River works with a faceplate on, a blank bit of steel with a slit so she can see, so if you come up on her in the middle of a project odds are good that her hair is tied back and her face is not immediately visible.

The sigils on her bare arms burn with a light that matches her forge, which is curiously free of coals despite the heat coming from it.

Best Practices [Open | Festival Green]

One can find River in the evenings at the festival green, while the sun is setting, training with her spatha. Her style has a curious quirk; she fights dirty and mean, yes, but mixed into the more usual moves of her two-handed stance are light, quick touches, as if all she intends to do is make brief contact with an opponent. She could use a sparring partner.

Black As Night, Sweet As Sin [Open | Oak & Iron]

From the studio that brought you the last 'come bother me' prompt, a second one: find River in the mornings at Oak & Iron, carefully measuring out her budget for a daily cup of coffee. You can almost see her transformation from 'I'll fight God if he so much as looks at me' to 'eager and curious about all these new people' as the cup drains. She is not a morning person by inclination, merely by habit.

Anyone who feeds this girl something she doesn't have to cook herself may have an instant friend.

Custom Order [Closed to Annabelle | Annabelle's Shop]

With weather being a thing on the island, River is making her cloak a priority...quite aside from it being an excuse to talk to Miss Whitlock again. She comes in with a heavy cloak in deep green folded over her arm, her ears twitching curiously as she looks around and takes in the ambiance. River wouldn't dream of expecting special treatment as a client here; she can wait for the sticheress to be ready to serve her, especially when the measurements might need...

...Privacy.

The Family Business [Closed to Degas | The Woods]

"Thank you for agreeing to this," River murmurs. "...I know there's misgivings, but I want to stress again that my primary goal here is to get the deceased laid to a proper rest and provide closure to their families. If there are none who might be willing to see their earthly remains used to protect the community, that's fine. Not ideal, but fine, I can't expect or demand anything."

River's here, she's ready, she's at the edge of the woods. She's come armed with her sword, but to be frank if a monster attacks her job is to make sure that Degas can get away. Cold as it is, the dead will wait for a return trip, but the Temple needs its minister.

Comments

River's Forge

[deaths_head]

One of the things about his trade that the Shade always enjoyed was the forge. His larger orders, he always outsourced to the town smithys (blacksmith for large amounts of nails and hardware, silversmith for special bits and bobs too much for his ramshackle little setup), but he kept a very small forge in his own workshop for the detailed work. That and...well, the activity was good. Tired him out, and prevented his power from running amok if he got too upset...

The soothing clash of metal and hiss of steam lures him in, but the smithy is what keeps him close--slim frame, hair back, features shielded against the spark of the forge. Bare arms adorned with glowing sigils that all but fucking call to him.

He stops to watch the blacksmith work for a few minutes, then draws closer with a wave to get their attention, gesturing to their arms. For good measure, he tugs up his left sleeve to display his heavily tattooed arm. In the middle of the intricate tapestry of tattoos on his flesh, a single small coffin stands out, glowing with a pale gray light.

The silent communication is clear: he's curious about the sigils, if the smith is willing to talk.

[somebodychildofanyone]

Oh, that's interesting, as is the strange aura this man gives off. Everyone here might be tangled in whatever the hell is going on with Marrow Island's death, but this gentleman feels...deathly.

Still, some things you can't quite interrupt. It's another minute or five before River can lay her current task aside, at which point she shucks her face mask and offers a tired smile to the newcomer before making a beeline for some Fucking Water. "Welcome to Infernal Arms," she greets, between generous sips. In a much smaller voice: "Forgot to drink again, Robert would fucking kill me -" louder, "- can I help you, sir?"

Score, remembered to use the local title instead of falling back on 'goodman'.

[deaths_head]

The Shade waits patiently--one thing his newfound mortality hasn't stolen from him, the patience of his divine calling--and when the smith approaches to get some water, he moves to stand just a couple feet from...her, the face under that mask is decidedly feminine.

"Swap trade secrets if you got a mind." he offers with a smile. "And Joe suits me just fine--you're damn good with a hammer, miss. Nice, uh, 'artwork,' too. Mind if I ask where you got it?"

[somebodychildofanyone]

River smiles awkwardly at the compliment. "I'm no master smith, Joe. Hell, by a proper smith's standards I'm an ill-tempered apprentice, had to specialize, but thankfully what I learned most seems to be needed." One more deep pull of the water, and then River sets it down and offers a hand out to shake. "River la Croix, at your service. I notice you've got an interesting bit of ink yourself."

Unspoken, but present: you first.

[deaths_head]

The unspoken push is met with a nod and a small smile. He's got nothing to hide, despite being warned that his divine nature isn't something certain people might find comforting. Sure, hiding himself is something he's done for the entirety of his godhood...but not around his souls, his people.

The people in this place, deprived of death--if ever a soul deserved his protection, it was these locals. And if ever a soul belonged to him, it was the other displaced...those brought here to help restore the balance of life and death.

So he sees no reason to hide.

"Death mage in life, named by the Divine in death." he explains simply. "I'm a death god, made mortal again to be here. My magic I learned in life, but the tattooing came after I died. Sorta...self-taught."

He holds out one arm to display his intricate ink, vivid and clearly wrought by the hand of an artist--but only one image on each of his arms glows.

"They're all normally lit up, enhance my power, but that's divine in nature. Only two still workin' are the ones that give me form 'n flesh."

[somebodychildofanyone]

"...Hhhhhuuuhhhh," says the elf whose religion teaches that mortals are of both flesh and spirit because the gods are, and crafted such mortals in their own image. "That explains some things, yeah. I'm a necromancer myself but the sigils are a different branch of magical study. They summon hellfire for me."

She points her thumb at the forge, where similar, but not the same, sigils, feed and contain the flame therein.

[deaths_head]

The mention of 'hellfire' causes the Shade to pale just a little...well, go paler than he is by virtue of his Irish skin...but the sigils on the forge that so closely match the tattoos on the young woman's skin give him enough pause to keep calm.

"I'm gonna venture a guess it ain't the kind you find paired with brimstone." he replies slowly. "Cause I've been burned by hellfire, and, uh...that shit ain't anything you wanna mess with, magic or otherwise. And that's comin' from a man who did time in Hell--'bout ten to fifteen years by mortal reckoning."

The Family Business

[preacher_in_reticence]

"I'll not speak on everyone's behalf on that particular manner." The man rumbles. There's a general sense of unease hanging about the preacher, whether that's because of the task at hand or his thought were turning to those loved ones he's buried, he won't say.

It's not terribly surprising but the man isn't a fighter. He's armed with a sturdy lantern and a few supplies for it, a satchel hung over one shoulder, and a long, thin whistle hanging loose from his neck.

"But, I am happy to assist where I am able." He gives River a somber look, almost unreadable for how he's retreated inwardly compared to their first talk.

[somebodychildofanyone]

"I understand. If there's trouble, cut and run. The dead can wait a little longer, they have time to spare." River takes a deep breath and starts leading the way.

After awhile: "...I don't know the proper rites to give them. Or if I'd be welcomed to do so."

[preacher_in_reticence]

“That they do.”

Degas doesn’t mean to be terrible company now, but his thoughts are mired until River speaks again.

“Then it is a good thing you have me along.” He says lightly. “But, I will say this. The rites can and do vary. They are often personalized, or there are a few…hmm. Standard, I suppose.” he idly scratches his beard.

“However, if I may ask…how it is you send off your dead?”

[somebodychildofanyone]

"Depends on the person, and the circumstance. In my perfect world I know how the departed would like their remains handled, and follow it to the letter. The family's often gone really far out of our way for that...long sea voyages to get a body back to its homeland uh, tend to end in the creation of branch families when we're too broke to get back home." A shrug; what can you do? "But in the absence of perfect information, or if we have to kill someone with our own hands, we give them the family rites. Pray for the mercy and intercession of the gods for this, a fellow victim of life, followed by burial or mummification. My homeland, before my adoption, they favor returning to the land in a more...dispersed fashion." Her ears twitch as she looks at Degas. "The elves of Greenwall generally ceremonially butcher the departed and scatter them through the woods, to rejoin the living world as their last act, though some instead favor being buried with fruit trees planted to both mark the grave and provide for the community."

The Shop and its Blessings

[witheredpeonies]

Annabel Lee is alone in the shop when River arrives, working on one of the patches for Gerry, as you do. The rats tied at the tail, the coffin. The symbols of punk and fear that she hardly understands, but can make of thread and fabric. Still, she looks up when the bell above the door jingles.

"Oh! Welcome." Startle turns to an easy smile.

[somebodychildofanyone]

River smiles back, relieved to see the lack of a prior client. A prior job, certainly, but still. "Good afternoon, Miss Whitlock. I see business is already coming in."

[witheredpeonies]

"Slowly, but surely. Enough to keep me fed, and enough that I'm making friends with others here. One of the girls who performs--singing--asked me to pretty up her outfits for shows, for example."

But that isn't the point. Annabel Lee sets aside the work she's in the middle of, gesturing for the cloak. "So, let me see?"

[somebodychildofanyone]

"If I'm not interrupting," is what River's mouth says, but there's no bite to it; she approaches and offers the heavy cloak. It's deep green in color, and thick - a winter cloak, maybe a touch too warm for fall, but it's a hardship River's used to. "I'll confess that I'm eager. I feel...not naked, but certainly not myself, without a cloak."

[witheredpeonies]

"You aren't interrupting." Annabel feels along the edges, gets to know the shape of the cloak. "Put it on so I can mark where the earholes will go on the hood?"

And perhaps so she has the excuse for a little more direct touching. Shhh, two women alone in a shop like this, nothing's going to happen.

Right?

[somebodychildofanyone]

Riiiiight.

What's happening now is the faint wilting of the River. "This is the part I was hoping to avoid," she confides. "... Alright."

Shake the cloak out, sweep it around the shoulders. The clasp is a simple pin, for now, but that will change; River closes it, and then with a sigh, raises the hood. Her ears make peaks within it, followed immediately by a pained and uncomfortable look on River's face.

She's trying very hard not to squirm.

[witheredpeonies]

"I'm afraid I'm going to need to touch to mark those spots with chalk." She is genuinely apologetic for how this is going to feel, like someone measuring a modern woman for a bra or other intimates.

Best Practices

[batteryacid]

[[ OOC: Maybe before Parade Day? Eddie has the idea he needs more combat training and they cover the basics..? ]]

Normally, Eddie wouldn't be in town around sunset, but he actually planned for this. On one visit for an evening talk, River mentioned how she liked to train at the Festival Green. And since he keeps running into monsters and barely getting away, Eddie would like to be better at the "fight" option in the list of "fight, flee, freeze".

He watches her in silence for a while, making note of those different, light touch motions. And when she lowers her sword, he raises a hand to wave and calls out,

"Hello, River!"

[somebodychildofanyone]

"Eddie! Hey, you caught me partway through my set." River opens her canteen and starts drinking, hydration waits for neither man nor god. "What brings you all the way out here? I haven't missed an order or somethin', have I?"

[batteryacid]

"No, ma'am," he answers, "I was... hoping you could give me some instruction. On how to fight."

He closes the distances between them as he speaks, so that he can drop his voice softer for this next part. He doesn't want to be overheard.

"Tell you the truth, I'm worried about this... Parade that the Gazette mentioned. I'm not a good fighter, not by a long shot. I'm hoping I can make it a little more skill and a little less luck that gets me out of fights alive."

[somebodychildofanyone]

"Ahhh. I can, but depending on what you need there's an unavoidable amount of getting your ass kicked, unfortunately." River has the grace to look sorry about that, at least. "Do you know how you respond to danger as-is? I do remember what we talked about earlier, but, well. Assumptions make an ass of you and me, and all that."

[batteryacid]

"I've gotten my ass kicked before and not learned anything useful, so if you can teach me while kicking my ass that's already a step up."

Eddie shrugs, looking a little sheepish. "I do freeze up, but... I think part of it is not knowing what to do. And I want to be able to fight."

[somebodychildofanyone]

"Alright, fair enough. C'mere." River sheathes her sword and sets it aside, brushes herself down some. "So, first thing. Absolute first thing, which training's gonna help with but which you gotta be thinking about, is: what do you want out of a given fight? The thing is...and this is gonna sound stupid...violence hurts people. One of those people is probably going to be you. If you can't figure out why you're fighting, leave. Hell, 'leave and don't fight' is gonna be what you want to do most of the time. But when you do have an actual objective, once you've accomplished it? Fight's over, and then you leave. You might be sensing a theme here."

[batteryacid]

"Get it done, then get gone?" he offers up. It's a serious question despite any lightness that might be perceived in the phrasing.

"What I want... out of knowing how to fight..." He visibly thinks about that for a moment. It feels like something that deserves thought, and to be put into the correct words. He looks up into River's eyes after a few moments. "I want to be able to protect others. And myself. I'd rather take a monster's attention so someone else can get away, if I have to. And then I'd like to get away from them myself, once others were safe."