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  1. Demi followed Tirkas’ movements with her own, shrugging her pack from her shoulders and lowering it to the ground. Rather than sit immediately, Demi gazed at the small clearing, trailing the odd assortment of shrubs and bushes amidst the forest. When she did choose to sit, it was with her eyes watching the slow growth of leaves and branches like a crown on Tirkas head. A single eyebrow rose in question but she didn’t question it. Instead she merely stretched her legs out in front of her and pulled her own water skin close. She never really had much interaction with elves to really question the various oddities of their race. Tirkas’ voice distracted her enough from the leafy crown and she turned her eyes to meet his, watching the movement of his jaw and face as he spoke. It wasn’t so much his loyalties she questioned but rather whether or not he was a mercenary, much in the way that Demi considered herself to be. She kept silent however, watching the subtle shift of his face as his words failed him. Should she not have asked, Demi wondered as she accepted the cloth with a soft word of thanks. She picked up one of the nuts, holding it between her index finger and thumb. She twisted it in her fingers then set it down when Tirkas began again; it felt disrespectful to eat as he talked. So she didn’t and instead held it in her lap, the pads of her thumbs rubbing against the corners of the cloth. “I wasn’t part of the situation; I wouldn’t know what truly happened but…” Demi started, shifting her eyes down to the food in her lap. Her voice was soft as she spoke and when she looked up, there was a comforting expression on her face. “There are… some lessons that need to be learned for us to know who we truly are as a person. As warriors.” She shrugged softly and picked up one of the strips of cured meat, turning her eyes down to stare at it. “They are lessons that stick with us for years. Mine was watching people I served with, that I regard as my brothers and sisters, turn their backs on the people that needed us the most.” She’d watched innocents die, knowing that if she saved one, she was condemning ten others. “I’m sorry for your experience and I am sure Constans is glad to have you on the side of Coth.” Demi pulled a chunk from the cured meat, chewing it thoughtfully as she turned her eyes to Tirkas. She wasn’t actually hungry but it tasted nice. She wondered offhandedly if Tirkas had prepared it himself. All the same, after eating the strip of meat and a few berries, she tied the corners of the cloth closed again and handed it back over to Tirkas. “Thank you. My feet are gracious for the small break. And… since we’ll be traveling together, you’re free to ask me anything you like. I don’t mind answering.” @Ghorroj @Spooky Mittens
  2. The metallic sounds of the forge echoed through the air, the sounds of hammering and fire accenting the occasional passing of breath as the woman within worked. She would occasionally pause to rest, to walk away from the fiery heat that filled the air and grab something to drink or snatch a slice of meat from the decently-sized hunk positioned over the open fire pit in the middle of the shed. She would place some meat over the fire at the beginning of the day and it would roast slowly, serving as her meals as the hours passed. Whatever her rest consisted of, it would only last for few seconds, enough to regain her strength before she set about working again. The building itself was situated at the edge of town, far enough away from local residences so that the sounds of metalwork wouldn't disturb the occupants but near enough that people could walk by and watch the dance of orange flames that flickered with green light. It was a small building with the largest part being the attached 'shed' that the noises echoed from. A sign listing the building as a blacksmith's workshop hung on the open door outside of the shed, swaying slowly in the gentle breeze. Demi had been around the forge and heat that accompanied it all her life. Raised by her father, Demi had begun learning the art of blacksmithing from an early age. She had always found a certain… beauty in the metal work, from the smelting of ingots, to the casting, to the forging of various equipment and had strove to be as skilled at it as her father. It hadn’t helped that, as a little girl, she’d been mesmerized by the flames that would spout from the forge whenever her father worked. Although it didn't do so now, the dance of orange flames tinged by green light had done wonders to excite the fantasies of her then child-like imagination, as if her father were taming a giant, metal dragon that spewed out green and orange flames... Blacksmithing wasn’t the only thing Demi had ever done in her life. It was a passion, to be sure, and one that she followed to honor the life and passion of her father, but it wasn’t the only thing she did. At one time she had been a soldier of another province’s army and her body showed it, from the tone of her arms and legs to the flat of her abdomen. While she was no longer a soldier her current ‘occupation’, along with her artistic talents, helped her maintain that same muscular tone. As a soldier, her hair had been once been cut short, shorn to a small buzz on her skull. Now however, the thick, jet-black tresses trailed down to just below her shoulders, typically styled into a low tail or a braid, as it was now. Her eyes were grey and her skin was pale and accented with scars, both from swords, teeth, and claws alike. Demi was a warrior and if the scars didn’t show it, it would be that her right arm ended at the elbow. Straightening from her hunched position over the anvil, Demi removed her glove and wiped the back of her hand across her brow, lips pursed slightly in a sigh of mild exhaustion. She’d been at the forge since early in the morning and had it not been for the fact that she had naught else to do that day, she might have stopped for the day. For Demi, it was either work or do nothing… and Demi had always had a rather hard time doing ‘nothing’. In this case, it wasn’t so much her making something just for the fun of it as it was something she’d had the mindset of making for a while now. Right now it was just a mess of leather straps, metal gears, screws, and other bits of miscellaneous metal bits but she hoped that soon she might see the piece in life as she saw it in her imagination.
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