Token of Power

Log Info

• Title: Token of Power
• Emitter: Nemori
• Characters: Nemori, Slixvah, Robert, Eztli, Jay
• Place: Lower Trades
• Time: June 1st, 2022
• Summary: <To do>

Nemori is at the forge. She had been tempted to hide herself away. In fact, she had tried as much earlier, locking herself in the room she stays in at the Ilife House. But that left too much room for thinking, so she came to the forge instead where stoking the furnace and hammering the iron has begun to turn into a therapy of sorts, the work intended to leave no room for stray thoughts. Heat the metal, hammer it down, fold it. Heat it again, hammer it down.. and so forth. Sweat pours down her face and her arms as she continues to pit herself against the iron, imagining its shape, willing it to take form.. then, at last, the small blade gets thrust into the quenching barrel. She holds it there, the oils difusing the heat and tempering the metal... when she pulls it out, it still steams, but the glow is gone. She examines it closely, then snorts as she places it aside. It must not be a total failure; knowing her, had it been she likely would have thrown it away in disgust.

Yet the work seems to have brought her little peace as she turns away from anvil and barrel to approach her stool.. but instead of sitting on it, she sinks down to her knees and puts her forhead upon it, bringing her arms and hands up to shield her head. An attempt to shut things out.

Nyoooom.

A winged figure coasts through the air, aiming for the TarRaCe beyond. Though, the sounds of forge work makes causes them to sprial in a cork screw, doubling back to make sure they heard it correctly. Satisfied with their findings, they drop altitude, and come to a sliiiide out the front gate. "....eeeeey Robby!" a familiar voice chirps, throwing open the gate. "What'cha workin' on this time hone-"

She stops short. Her wings droop a little. "Oh."

Talons clank against the forge floor as Slixvah stoops down to a knee a few paces away. "Heya Mori, you good sugar?" she softly coos, eyes crinkled in concern.

"Hitting it harder isn't always hitting it better." The observation is a mild one, milder than the afternoon heat. "Try focusing on your rhythm..." Bob adds, injecting his soft tones with quiet enthusiasm as he looks up from his drafting table and turns on his own stool. He's misinterpreted the lady's distress.

The sweating Cerenzan was ready to lift ink-stained gloves in greeting for Slixvah but he's caught by the elf's position on the floor. He shifts, puzzled, and stands to take a long step towards the pair.

"What happened, lady Nemori? What's wrong?"

Nemori's arms tense and her fingers clench into the hair at the back of her head, almost as if she's trying to burrow in and pull it all away.. then her hands come down in frustration alongside a wordless growl. She rises, gives the stool a good kick... her good smithy boots protect her from her own anger, but the stool... well, Nemori is neither large nor particularly strong. The stool ends up toppled over, coming to a rest against the smithy wall none the worse for wear.

Bob buys good stools.

The shadow elf stares daggers at it, then forces out a deep breath, her shoulders slump.. and she goes to retrieve the stool, putting it back down so she can sit upon it. "Do not mind me. I am merely cursing fate and the gods and the dead and dwarves. Especially dwarves."

Slix seems to bypass pleasantries with a greeting towards Bob as Nemori rises and tests the durability of the stool, her blinking and backing up a shuffled step.

She rises to her feet, her leaning against a wall. "You're being minded hon, the poor stool ain't a dwarf. Despite it being as tall as one," she snickers. "Dead and dwarves huh? Yeah, that thing we did was kinda rough. You... wanna talk 'bout that?"

"Was this Jay's... adventure?" Bob wonders, stepping past Nemori and leaning over the low wall, opening a small footlocker set into the shade, and retrieving a pitcher. He grunts audibly as he straightens back up. Eyes search again until he's found her cup, tosses out the warmed water, and pours one that's fresh and cooler.

"Drink," he suggests for the lady. It's offered with a kindness that saves it from being a command. "... you didn't want to talk about it at supper. If you're ready now..?"

Blue eyes find Slixvah with an askance glance. He quirks an eyebrow and lifts the pitcher; an offer and a question.

Nemori doesn't, in fact, look like she wants to talk about it at all. She eyes the offered water while she brushes the hair on the right side of her head forward, then sighs and takes the cup. She takes a long drink from it, beginning the rehydration process. "Yes and no," she finally says. Though in answer to what isn't clear. Maybe to all of the questions. "Idiot dwarves nearly led us all to being killed and joining this wight army. Oh. Jay did.. quite well. He was reckless. Foolish. I imagine that is what.. ah.. well." But that certainly wasn't what was eating her.

She takes another sip, though it does little to wipe the scowl from her lips. "Perhaps neither of you know, but something has changed recently. I cannot be sure what it is, but I feel... I no longer feel Her eyes upon me. Or so I believe. These last days had been quite..." There is struggle, to find a word. "How do you say... like new? But not like that. I do not know. Less dark, perhaps. Yet.. like stepping out of the sun into the shade? But not like that?" More source of frustration. "But.. what do I do when I am finally free of one mistress? Apparently I go running into the arms of another."

There was mention of dwarves?

Well, perhaps a dwarf sith-makar was close enough. Eztli wandered into the shop, slowly, with the large hood from the back of their robe pulled up and over their head, propped up by their horns but hanging low in the front to obscure most of their face. The walk continued for some time, until they were in the workshop proper, and found a wall to flop against.

"In hindsight, maybe hanging out at a blacksmith shop the day after wasn't the best idea." The small makari sighs. "I've got enough ringing in my head as it is."

She winces at more talk of wights, even if it was hard to tell. "The elves were talking about it, even if it was only a mul'niessa thing I heard. I was always told it wasn't a literal thing, though."

Slixvah bobs her head once at the nonverbal question. "Water sounds grand, sugar, thank youuu," she hums, smoothing down her feathers.

She sighs, "Yes, those two were right idiots. Tegri did good. As did you..."

The shadow elf's answer makes her blink once, and she cocks her heads to the side. "Been hearin' 'bout that as of late. Wish I could know how ta help ya on that front. But ... speaking of... By the by, lil' ol luck swept by and dumped this on me with the rain. Where did I... put it...?" She pats around her person, rifling through a couple robes before she makes an 'ah!' sound and pulls out something.

She holds a palm out, offering a wooden token with a crude painting of a flame on both sides.

The elagrin woman turns slightly to spy the newcomer. She tilts her head the other way. "... you... good?" she asks slowly, her usual 'go get 'em and pepper everything with kindness' halted for the moment as the mood wasn't calling for it.

"Respite?" Bob offers once Nemori is finished. Thinking briefly before making his offering to what was very likely a rhetorical question. Th big man offers a quick, thin smile to Slixvah and returns to his hunt, eventually tracking down a tin cup beneath papers on a desk furthest from the forge. He gives it rapid arcane attentions and fills the resulting freshly-cleaned reservoir. This is delivered to Slixvah as he considers the token and looks to Nemori once more.

"Miss Eztli," he offers in greeting. He turns again but realizes he's not likely to find another cup. He sloshes the three-quarters-empty jug and just holds that out to the sith-makar. "The hammers are quiet and there's fresh water. Help yourself, please."

The Cerenzan keeps an eye on Nemori. "Mistress?" He finally asks.

Nemori shrugs her shoulders at Eztli, one hand waving in a somewhat laxidaisey circle that belies the tension she's under. "A feeling. A sense. Perhaps different for others. I served... " Nemori doesn't finish. Despite recent events, it still seems safer, perhaps, to avoid admitting certain things. When Slixvah reveals the token, however, the shadow elf flinches.. and makes no move to reach for it. "That is nothing!" she snaps, though her reaction suggests it might just be something. "A child in the market was selling them. She looked half starved and pathetic. She would not leave me alone until I had given her coin for one." And maybe it was a WWBD moment. She avoids looking at Robert when he questions her use of the word mistress.

Eztli went and took the large jug with what appeared to be an attempt at a smile. "And for that, I am eternally grateful." The small makari chuckles weakly as she reaches into her robe to pull out a vial that she dumped into the pitcher. "I will be better in a bit, at least. Well, sort of. Don't worry, alchemist's kindness leaves no residue afterwards."

She sloshes it around until it starts fizzing somewhat, taking a light white color. "Sounds complicated. Don't let it get to you, and I'm sure that child appreciated it."

Slixvah takes the cup happily, her doing the usual non-mammal thing where there's a dance of trying to figure out how to drink from the cup before giving up and halfway dumping it in through the side.

Though, her feathered brows pinch at the hard turn down. "Oh, shut it, it ain't nothin'. I had front row seats to you holdin' this thing out and you blasted summa them undeads into nothin'!"

She flicks the wooden token, it bouncing off the wall and rolling in a circle on a table until it clonks against an errant caliper as it rattles to a stop.

She gestures towards the small makari. "Yeah, sure the kiddo enjoyed that."

"You did what?" Bob wonders, eyes bouncing yet again. He moves away from where he'd just waved off Eztli's concern about residue in the pitcher and cocks his head to look down at the token. He slowly reaches down and picks up it, rolling the flat disc down into his palm before lightly dragging a thumb across the painted surface.

Unsure of what to make of this information, he holds his palm out to the mul'niessa and tries to find her eyes. His eyebrows are pushed together.

"Hey! Hey! I'm landing here!" Integrity C Truefeather, esquire, the 'C' is for crowding, has arrived on a wing and a summary judgement. He sweeps low, dropping out of the sky and landing, snapping his wings in and coming to a stop after several hops.

"Hi Slix! Bob! Small stuff!" He says energetically. His head turns in bird-watching way, as-in, a bird watching something and not someone watching birds, way to stare at the mul'niessa with one eye. His greeting to her is more subdued, careful, and he watches her hands, "Hello Nemori."

"I've been shopping. Shopping!" He explains, that far and no further, "What's everyone talking about?"

"I am sure the child did," Nemori confirms, though said child's well-being seems the furthest thing from her mind. She scowls further when Slixvah explains what happened. She makes another frustrated noise, not quite a growl, as Robert continues with that splint, inquiring look. "Fine! The damnable dwarves had waited until the last minute, alright? They were probably going to get us all killed. Integrity was right in the middle of them all, Zofija and her bird were getting swarmed, one of the cart's horses was dead and eaten... and I was desperate. I... I heard a song. It felt like an offer. I reached for it. And then..." She waves her hand again. "I was a conduit. I offered and she used me. "

Nemori slumps, holding her cup in her lap. "One mistress for another. ". She doesn't look up when Jay arrived, though she does offer him a small wave.

Slixvah instinctively steps further inside as she hears the familiar call for clearing. She gives a little up nod towards Tegri, along with a slight wave with a wing. "Heya Blue." She gestures towards Nemori, as if her admittance would suffice to answer his question of the conversation topic.

She tilts her head to the side. "... huh. That's certainly somthin' new. Buuuuut...!" she holds up a finger, smiling with her eyes. "Perhaps this might be less of a 'mistress' and more like a new friend!"

There's an audible groan from her robes.

"Oh hush you little goober."

The small makari pulls the hood off and immediately covers her eyes with one hand, while she quickly downs most of the pitcher straight into her maw. Eztli coughs, and keeps her eyes covered for a moment still. "Oh, hello again mister Truefeather. Are you here with the other Egalrin? I hope your shopping went well then." She offers. Then she stops to consider the rest. "Not all of the gods are bad, or at least, aren't supposed to be. As for people and undead, they don't act rationally. It sucks."

"Afternoon, IC," Bob greets with a smile, lifting his hand that isn't holding the trinket. He scans the egalrin quickly, trying to pick out his bounty but making a mental note to circle back around to the shopping trip when he can't.

The blacksmith listens to Slixvah's suggestion and nods, agreeing with the sentiment and gives a little exhale of a laugh through his nose as Eztli's observation.

"She came to you with an offer, lady Nemori," the practiced Ceinaran begins. "Did she propose a bargain or trade? Did she demand supplication or sacrifice?" He rolls the token again and sets it down on the table near the mul'niessa. "Ceinara can be fickle and Her interest wanes and wanders... She leaves most of what we need up to us." There's a quiet sigh and a shallow shrug. "But She's saved me when nothing else could and never asked anything in return."

"Oh! The white light, that was neat!" Jay says happily, looking at Bob, "So you figured out that's where it came from? Ceinara?"

"Well everyone serves one master or mistress or another, figuratively and metaphorically. I serve justice, Justice! As a concept, not really as a personification."

"Ceinara, she's the drama and angst one, right? That all the mimes and clowns in the theater district follow? That's not bad. You're..."

He shuts up instantly, carefully and slooooowly looking away from Nemori as if he's completely forgotten where he was going with that sentence.

All of the suggestions and insistances and assurances just leave a sour taste, matched by a sour expression on the shadow elf's face. But there is resignation too. "Is this all I am to be, then? Defined by what goddess I serve? Being free had been... terrifying. But also liberating." She slumps. Again. After all, the choice still seems to remain.. she doesn't have to accept the offer. She could just remain powerless.

Nemori's expression darkens. "I am not a clown, Integrity." It seems she learned what those were. "The undead. no, they are not rational. It.. would be unrational to remain weak with what is coming. '

Slixvah was the one to answer the little lizard's question. "Here with? Naw, Blue just rolled up. Though I know 'im. You right though, not all of 'em suck, some are quite nice," she hums, patting a pocket on her robes. A little thrush pops out, pecks her finger, then hides again. "Fiesty little..." she grumbles.

But she stops short. And sloooowly turns to Jay as a hand comes up to cover her beak, hardly contained giggles spilling forth.

The funny situation dies out, and she shakes her head with a small sigh. "Mori, sugar, ya thinkin' 'bout it backwards. You ain't defined by whatever god you serve, that's you talkin', what you thinkin' you're defined by. Th' gods and what not ain't nothin' without people like you and me."

"Way I see ya right now, I see a strong folk tryin' ta make somethin' new outta the pieces they got. And your just now seein' how else the pieces fit together."

"Hmm? Oh, I'm not saying undead are irrational, even if they are. I'm saying that people dealing with undead are irrational." Eztli reiterates, rubbing at her eyes with the hand covering them. She pauses to empty the last of the jug with a small sigh. "I may be small, but I'm not feeling particularly feisty at the moment anyways."

"And, I'm not saying you need to be defined by serving a goddess. I'm just saying, Don't let the actions of one turn you off from maybe helping out other ones. Did you let following a god from stop you from doing other things? Oh! And thank you for making the dagger for me, I haven't had reason to use it, but I've used it for cutting fruit and the like a few times, and it worked well. Felt good in the hand, and everything."

Bob listens to everyone talking, smiling faintly in spite of himself at the little community sharing their viewpoints constructively. He scratches at his beard with the dirty gloves, smearing a light smudging of black into unnoticed into dewy black stubble. He'll just be puzzled when he washes his face later and the water comes away dark.

"... and it should be a decision you make for yourself, lady," he adds, agreeing as he digs into a pocket. "Not something you come to in the heat of battle. Or a thing you take out of pity." He sets a crown down onto the table before picking up the bauble again. He considers it thoughtfully for a beat before casually tossing the thing into the hot coals of the forge.

"No desperate children. No life-or-death battle." The Cerenzan smiles softly at the mul'niessa. "Take your time and follow your heart."

"I was thinking more a mime." The bluejay squawks, quickly elaborating as his feather crest stands up. "Because you're quiet. And a lot of times you send silent messages, like when a customer walks up your hammering gets louder, to indicate you're 'really, really busy'."

He gestures with a wing, as if to message 'and on the other wing', "Or when we're along and I open my beak like I'm about to speak, you start hammering harder. So you can't hear me, because you don't want to hear me."

"You haven't noticed I started doing it just to see what you would do?" He snaps his beak shut, then mimes opening it with his tongue moving, while staying silent. He doesn't have the white-face, nor the striped outfit, but it's passable.

"I don't think of you as a clown. Some people find clowns terrifying. I mean, you are terrifying so it sort of works that way, but you're not a clown. Not a clown. I wasn't thinking of you as a clown." Integrity is very firm on that point. "And ... gods, that's not my strong suit. I'm more down to earthy. Legal stuff. Slix and Bob are smart about it."

"And you got us out of there. We only lost a horse. The Fester Frogs, well they're monsters, there's not much to expect going on there, but that commander..."

The thing on the horse...

"Yeah, you got us out of there. Thanks Nemori. I should have said thanks earlier."

Nemori lets out her breath. With it she seems to release some of her tension. Asked not a few months back and she wouldn't have believed there would be anyone she could trust in again. She quickly wipes at her eyes; some of the sweat from the forgework having dripped into them. "I am glad you are happy with the knife, Eztli. Perhaps when I improve you will ask me to make another. "

The mul'niessa looks up when Robert tosses the token into the forged. Her expression is a mix of a few different emotions. Relief, satisfaction. Disappointment. But as the glowing embers and brief flash of fire reflect in her eyes, she nods. "No decision has been made. Not yet." Then the somber tone is broken by Jay's meandering words. She actually smiles as she pictures the very true scenarios he has described. "I did not wish to be rude," she explains. Apparently making noise to block out conversation isn't considered by her as rudeness. The smile faded though at the reminder of the creature on the pale, skeletal horse. "That one is going to be trouble. "

Slix snaps a finger towards Bob. "Yeah, he's right." But that's before the token is tossed into the fires of creation. She blinks, but ends up finding herself nodding in approval of the action.

She eyes Integrity, snickering softly at his meandering words and the retort thereafter. The witch slicks her crown back. "Yeah. It is gonna be big trubs. Good thing healing magics work both ways!" She shoots a thumbs up.

It's unconfident.

"Ah! I'm feeling a bit better already." Eztli sighs, finally letting the hand fall down her face and snout so she can look around. "Those alchemisstss know how to cure a hangover, I'll give them that."

"I don't know if clownss are that sscary, they're a bit odd, but I think they're okay. Weird thing though, a clown is still a persson. It's like people are trying to ssay about not being defined by your professsion. You could have met a clown in a bar, and not even known it, after all." The tiny makari muses with a quiet chuckle that dies quickly. "It, it doesn't work both ways. That's what I was trying to tell people. There's restorative magics that might help, but you can't heal the wounds with normal healing magic. I'm tired of speaking about it, though."

"It's okay! I understand." Jay says, "you're a strange bird."

Which, may or may not be a compliment, coming from an Egalrin.

His eyes flicker to the flames, then away from the embers. "Well if I met de-clowned clowns in bars, they're very punchy."

He shrugs, adjusting his wings. "Anyhow, yeah, so it went. I filed a few motions. What has everyone else been up to?"

Nemori might agree with the strange bird comment, but of she does she keeps the sentiment to herself. "I have been making knives." Indeed. There is a small pile of them where she put her latest one aside.

Slixvah looks to the small makari, her tilting her head to the side. "... sweetie, it works both ways when you use a healie wheelie spell to fix someone, and turn around and use the same spell to unmake an undead. That's what I mean. I've used my mojo to fix up folk as much as I have to unfix the dead. I know the other stuff, I had it." She ruffles her feathers slightly.

The talk of clowns makes her ponder idly how an egalrin clown would look before her attention is drawn back to the conversation at hand. "Me? Uh... you know, trying to keep from stubbing my talons and figure out what's next on the mojo block."

She rubs her arm, though it stops short as she gets a nail caught on a loose string. "Oh. I'm Slixvah by the by," she lately introduces herself to Etzli.

"Are they? People tend to be pretty punchy in bars, clowns or no." Eztli shrugs. "That's why you always have your wits about you, and keeping a big knife just in case doesn't hurt."

"Well, I guess I get that. I'm just, ah whatever, I'm ready to stop worrying about it for a moment, I don't think my poor head can handle another night of excessive drinking."

"I'm not up to too much at the moment really. I was hoping to spend more time in Mictlan figuring everything out, but going back and forth is a bit dangerous these days. So I've just been around exploring this place more for the time being."

"Oh, Mictlan! Where all the lizard-folk come from? I should go out there." Integrity says as the idea pops into his head, "do they, I mean, do you, write wills and legacies?"

Nemori smiles to herself. A small, pathetic thing maybe. Really more of a shadow of a smile. She does watch after Robert as he rushes off, but doesn't seem too concerned. 'Family emergencies' usually turn out to be relatively un-emergency like. Then she finds herself looking at her hands, falling silent for this part of the group conversation.

Slix makes a chuffing sound, one not too unlike the makari make. "Naw Blue, it's just one of a many places. 'tis not like there's only just ONE aerie."

She waves to Bob as he bounces, though she raises a brow at Tegri's question.

"There's a nice bathhouse near the big arena place," she adds as an afterthought to help with the makari's activity of getting used to the area.

The small makari blinks, and slaps the tip of their snout, which also has the unfortunate effect of making them wince. "Oh! Oh right, where are my manners? Gods I'm just making a bad habit of forgetting to introduce myself. Name's Eztli, sorry about that." They apologize. "Not sure, really, I don't know if they write wills and legal documents there, so I can't really help you there. Lots of better options for actually finding out about sith-makar society, I can assure you."

"A bathhouse sounds really nice. Though they never do manage to get them hot or cold enough to be interesting. They're just, well, water." Eztli grumbles.

A bath certainly sounds nice. Nemori looks at herself, the sweat having mostly evaporated by now... but the soot streaks remain. She rides from her stool to start cleaning up her work space. "You certainly do seem much different than the Makari I tend to see in this city, Eztli," she remarks. "But Slixvah is correct. It is easy I suppose for us to look at other people's and not consider the many differences between them. " Except dwarves. Dwarves are all fools.

"Integrity C Truefeather, esquire." The bluejay eglarin says, "The C is for charmed, as in charmed to meet you." His head bobs, "that's right, there are a bunch of aeries!"

He clacks his beak a few times and looks thoughtful, "Well, a bathhouse sounds fun, and I could do with a birdbath, but I think I'll stay here and watch Nemori hammer things."

"It's very relaxing."

Slixvah chuckles, her standing up off her spot on the wall as she smooths her clothes down. "No worries, sugar," she coos to Eztli. "Well uh, hopefully they can fulfill that. Still though, it's nice atmosphere."

She observes Eztli for a moment before filing something away mentally. She chuckles at Tegri. "I think you just want her to hammer as loud as possible to drown you out," she teases, elbowing him in the side as she steps off.

"Right. I gotta stop by the Defense for a thing. Do be good now. And... Mori hon." She stops by the shadow elf, her hazarding a hand resting on their shoulder. "Ya gotta smart head on your shoulders. Robby Bobby's right. Take it at your own. And you define yourself." Her eyes crinkle in a smile.

"Anyways, after this lil' visit to the hospital I'm getting fucked up at the Fern because screw that thing I saw. Open invitation! Byeeeeeeeeeeeee.....!" She holds the note as she walks out backwards, waving a wing while a hand opens the gate behind her.

She thuds into a passing crowd, fixes herself before narrowly avoiding a black cat, and has to duck under a ladder on the way out.

"We did meet before, I'm pretty sure. You were asking Robert about getting a ladder installed up to the roof or something like that." The small makari snorts. "Still, I'm pretty horrible with introductions, so I'm not going to make a big deal about something like that."

"Helps when you haven't met another of your kind for a hundred years, give or take." Eztli shrugs. "So I'm still figuring things out really, even if they should be completely and utterly obvious to any other makari, that's all."

The small makari waves to Slixvah, raising one brow ridge. "I don't feel like getting blackout drunk again, but you seem fun enough. Maybe I'll be around for a drink if you're there, and I'm not testing out those baths. I highly doubt it, but you never know until you try, I guess."

Nemori raises a finger to point at Jay. "I do not think you should be considering getting... 'fucked up'... but I do believe Slixvah would very much like to see you there." She closed up the furnace, cutting off its air supply so as to extinguish the coals. Them she proceeds to clean and pit away her tools. "You are older than I had assumed, Eztli," she notes. "Though I think you should join them as well, even if you drink only the water or teas. "

The bluejay nods at the mul'niessa, "I wasn't sure if that was an invitation. I might go. I should go. I'll go!" He flaps.

"Yes, that's really old. I'm sure there's a story there. You should save it for drinks." Integrity leans a little closer to Nemori, glancing at the forge, "Did you finish my letter opener?"

"...It's the height, isn't it. But I get it." Eztli sighs. "Yeah, there's a good chance she'd like to have you around, the invite seemed general enough. And what about you, Nemori? Didn't seem like you said you'd be going or not. I'm sure it would be fun to have you around, I can't say I've seen you outside of the workshop out and relaxing, after all."

"Well, maybe there's a story there. Just means I'm a bit old." Ezli chuckles. "Doesn't mean I don't appreciate going out for a night at the pub, though."

Nemori shakes her head without hesitating. "There is much to do here to close and lock up. And I have thinking to do. I would probably also stab somebody, and we do not wish to put Integrity through that." As she says his name, she selects one of the blades from the small collection she had been working on. It is unfinished. It is almost more of a stilletto than a dagger, though it still has a double edge. "It still needs to be honed. And the hilt properly wrapped. But it is nearly done. "

Jay backs up as Nemori draws the knife. It's a knife for him, "That's for me?" He sounds both delighted and frightened, as if Nemori is about to stab someone. In the forge. Again.

"You're right though. We should go. I'll meet you there, I've got some filings to file. I'll check on Bob too, see how stuff goes."

He flaps, hopping backwards a few times, "Bye! Bye! Bye!"

"Oh, I'm sure you could go to the pub and not stab someone." Eztli chuckles. "But I'm serious, don't forget to take some time to relax. It's helping me today to not get overwhelmed by everything, after all."

"Oh, that's another nice knife you're working on, I'm sure it'll work wonders for all the letters mister Truefeather is getting. Bye, and take care!"

The small makari waves off the last egalrin, and takes a look around. "Well, I was planning on coming here to relax and talk for a bit, but it seems Robert took off, and you're closing up shop. You want any help, or did you want to do your thinking alone, Nemori?"

"Keep out of the shadows, Integrity," Nemori calls after him, setting his knife back with the others as she collects them for locking up. "I will be fine, Eztli. I prefer to do this on my own. As you say... It offers me time to think. I am sorry Robert was unable to stay. I am sure there are things to two of you would enjoy talking to each other about."

"Well, if you say so." Eztli shrugs, looking for a place to set down the pitcher she had remained carrying, and settling for where she saw one of the cups left. She had to reach a bit, and the small makari regarded Nemori with a slightly tilted head. "It is a bit unfortunate. But what, do you not think I'd enjoy talking about things with you?" She asks. "I'd be happy to hear some more of your ideas about mechanical engineering sometime."

Nemori pauses in the cleanup, settling her hands upon the bench as she considers the makari's question. The pause is more than a few heartbeats, but she does eventually turn to regard the diminutive scaled one. "I have not yet adapted to this culture." She does another lazy circling hand wave. "I do not mean Alexandrian. I mean this culture of... friendly coexistence. I am awkward and not altogether sure I have a place here. My social instincts constantly seek to betray me here. It is not comfortable. So.... no, I know I am not pleasant to talk with. Robert takes pity on me. Jay I believe is fascinated with the darkness inside of me. And Slixvah... I would not be surprised to find out she simply likes everyone. "

"That's the weird thing about Alexandria. There's so many different sorts here, there's not really a concept of 'fitting in'. Least that's how it feels to me." The small makari chuckles as she settles back down, finding the vial she had used earlier and stowing it back into her robes. "So if you aren't sure you have a place here, the goodness knows how many other people feel similarly."

"And that's a load of rubbish, I think you're interesting to talk to, when you feel like talking. So, I'm not interested in any darkness, whatever that's supposed to mean, I don't pity a competent blacksmith's apprentice like you, maybe I am just an agreeable sort like that Egalrin, though."

"Anyways, I'll leave you be, but you gotta cut yourself some more slack and give yourself credit." The small-makar offers as she heads to the door. "Peace on your nest, I think that's right? Pretty sure Mul'niessa don't have nests, but it's supposed to be the thought that counts I think. See you around, Nemori! I'll ask you about completely avoiding my comment about your curiosity about artifice another time."

Nemori opens her mouth to retort, then closes it. Sometimes it's better to let things be. For a time, anyways. So instead she nods. "Stay out of the shadows, Eztli. Perhaps we will have a conversation about it another time." She doesn't quite smile this time, but at least her expression seems more at ease as she watches the last of the smithy's visitors depart.

-End Scene-