Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
Was that bragging in his tone, or some kind of challenge? Maea's expression remained bland, disinterested in whatever measuring contest the man tried to rope her into. "Good for you," she replied blandly, and bent over her work again. That smirk on his face made her bristle, just like it always had.
His answer about the forge did not clarify anything to her at all, and her mouth thinned into a line as she sorted lanterns based on the amount of rust, crookedness and need of repair. Her hands were disfigured and ugly, made that way from merely lighting a fire; how he avoided boiling himself to death was more than she could understand. It seemed too reckless, as if he was purposely putting himself in danger.
"I see." She didn't, but he didn't need to know that. "Once these are sorted, then what?" Suspecting this would take several hours, Maea wished she had chosen some other blacksmith. Darkeye maybe... though his trouble with metal might still be in effect.
His answer about the forge did not clarify anything to her at all, and her mouth thinned into a line as she sorted lanterns based on the amount of rust, crookedness and need of repair. Her hands were disfigured and ugly, made that way from merely lighting a fire; how he avoided boiling himself to death was more than she could understand. It seemed too reckless, as if he was purposely putting himself in danger.
"I see." She didn't, but he didn't need to know that. "Once these are sorted, then what?" Suspecting this would take several hours, Maea wished she had chosen some other blacksmith. Darkeye maybe... though his trouble with metal might still be in effect.
