WHO: Christine, Ellana, Tessa, Minka, & Julian WHAT: doing various things throughout the latter half of Cloudreach WHEN: Cloudreach 15th - Cloudreach 30th WHERE: The Gallows
Prompts are in comments so I only get notifs once.
"And is that a hard process? The part where you apply the same metal? I am envisioning it spilling everywhere. Or is it not liquid?" And, of course Christine wonders what precautions these blacksmiths take to remain safe around incredibly hot metal.
"It's not an easy process. Whole lot easier to burn yourself doing it since it can spill, which shouldn't happen if you're careful and doing it right. And no it isn't quite a liquid. It's molten, which means we can turn something that is normally solid into a liquid-like state." As he explains Sam goes rummaging through a box, moments later pulling out gloves and tossing a pair to Christine.
Sam shrugs slightly. "Only if you feel like you're ready to do so, not going to make you do something you aren't comfortable with. If you do it's only going to be holding the breastplate. Either way you'll need to protect your hands."
"Well, in that case..." Christine slips on the gloves and stands with hands held up in a pose. "Ready." It isn't often anymore she finds herself in a situation where she's the student. Often she's the one in charge and in control. Hopefully this is a refreshing change and she doesn't start to keenly feel that loss of control.
"Alright." Sam looks all too happy to be sharing something he has a passion for with someone he's close with. Course he wasn't necessarily putting Christine on the path to actually take up this line of work, but it was something besides magic and not cooking, which was slowly adding inches to his waistband - his depression had taken on the form of too many sweets and not enough working out.
Grabbing the said breastplate, he slowly sets it against the furnace to start softening. At that point he moved it to the table, hole facing down, and for her to hold it. "Just keep it still, ok?" he asks just as he starts to pour the molten iron in place.
It feels only right to participate in such a passion with him. They both are healers, but that's work, and cooking was something they'd done together already. This is new, and she can tell he's pleased he gets to show her what he does.
"Okay," she replies, face serious as she holds it in a firm grip with feet spaced apart as if the breastplate might have second thoughts and try to bolt away. "Like this?"
Seeing the look and stance Christine takes with her new responsibility, Sam tries his best not to laugh. It's just that, she looks like she's ready for a demon or something to pop out at any moment rather then just holding an inanimate object still. He appreciates that she isn't taking it lightly though.
"Ye-eah," he says, clearing his voice a bit to better get himself under control. "But you don't need to be so stiff; it's not going anywhere on it's own. And don't worry if you feel like you need to pull away; the heat takes some getting used to."
Christine glances up at his throat clearing and narrows her eyes slightly. She gets the feeling he might have been about to laugh, but if that was the case, she's going to let it go. He hasn't, and this is her first time around hot metal. Of course she'll be a little apprehensive.
"Very well," she says mildly, though perhaps with an edge of Orlesian offense. She moves her legs in slightly and loosens her grip just enough that the armor is no longer in a death grip. "I am ready when you are."
If he had laughed it wouldn't have been at her, just... at how she was going about stuff; you were making quite the face, Christine. But of course he knows better then to laugh, because of course he does, especially when he does hear that bit of offensive tone peek out.
Clearing his throat again, Sam re-grips the pot of molten metal with the tongs and brings it over to the armor. "Alright, here it goes." As soon as he says it he tips the pot, just a splash of metal coming out, and just as quickly rights it and sets it back near the forge. "That's it. You can let go. It's going to start to harden in a second and we'll have to pound it out before it fully settles."
Christine is cringing as he tips the pot, imagining it splashing all over her. In her head, she knows Sam has been doing this a long time and there's no way he would ever splash any on her. Unfortunately, her natural preservation instincts are a bit stronger than her logic at the moment, so cringe she does.
Yet soon enough she sees that everything has gone smoothly and she lets go of the armor, leaning in to examine the material and how it looks in this form.
"Fascinating," she murmurs, tilting her head to get another angle on it. "It is so soft, and hard to believe it will become part of the whole. And so strong as well."
"Indeed, it is quite something. Just don't go poking your finger in it." He knows she won't, but he knows the feeling of wanting to know/feel out of fascination.
Before it starts to completely cool, Sam slips a thin piece of metal onto the molten steel on the inside, holding it in place with a hammer, and then flips over the breastplate. Some of the cooling steal sticks and stretches from the table and soon starts to settle into the hole, using a different tool to help coax it into the edges.
"We'll give it a minute for it to cool a bit more so that we don't have to hold the plate in place. Then we can work on hammering, and then sand it down. Even something this small takes a bit of time."
Christine lifts her gaze to give him one of her all too familiar looks. It's a look that says "Oh, please. What do you take me for?" But she straightens nonetheless, awaiting the next step in the process.
"I trust when it is complete, it will look as good as new, thanks to your talents." Christine has never doubted for a second that Sam has talent. Okay, perhaps when she first met him and heard he was originally from Ferelden she thought otherwise, but that opinion quickly changed. She knows now that whatever he does with metal will be strong and finely crafted.
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"You wish for me to help you? Are you certain?" If this is such a hard process, is he willing to let someone so inexperienced assist him?
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Grabbing the said breastplate, he slowly sets it against the furnace to start softening. At that point he moved it to the table, hole facing down, and for her to hold it. "Just keep it still, ok?" he asks just as he starts to pour the molten iron in place.
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"Okay," she replies, face serious as she holds it in a firm grip with feet spaced apart as if the breastplate might have second thoughts and try to bolt away. "Like this?"
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"Ye-eah," he says, clearing his voice a bit to better get himself under control. "But you don't need to be so stiff; it's not going anywhere on it's own. And don't worry if you feel like you need to pull away; the heat takes some getting used to."
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"Very well," she says mildly, though perhaps with an edge of Orlesian offense. She moves her legs in slightly and loosens her grip just enough that the armor is no longer in a death grip. "I am ready when you are."
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Clearing his throat again, Sam re-grips the pot of molten metal with the tongs and brings it over to the armor. "Alright, here it goes." As soon as he says it he tips the pot, just a splash of metal coming out, and just as quickly rights it and sets it back near the forge. "That's it. You can let go. It's going to start to harden in a second and we'll have to pound it out before it fully settles."
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Yet soon enough she sees that everything has gone smoothly and she lets go of the armor, leaning in to examine the material and how it looks in this form.
"Fascinating," she murmurs, tilting her head to get another angle on it. "It is so soft, and hard to believe it will become part of the whole. And so strong as well."
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Before it starts to completely cool, Sam slips a thin piece of metal onto the molten steel on the inside, holding it in place with a hammer, and then flips over the breastplate. Some of the cooling steal sticks and stretches from the table and soon starts to settle into the hole, using a different tool to help coax it into the edges.
"We'll give it a minute for it to cool a bit more so that we don't have to hold the plate in place. Then we can work on hammering, and then sand it down. Even something this small takes a bit of time."
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"I trust when it is complete, it will look as good as new, thanks to your talents." Christine has never doubted for a second that Sam has talent. Okay, perhaps when she first met him and heard he was originally from Ferelden she thought otherwise, but that opinion quickly changed. She knows now that whatever he does with metal will be strong and finely crafted.