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.