ForgedInBlood[continued from The First Card Falls?] Despite the morning chill, Cole and Joao were sweating miserably. The cramp building felt like the insides of a thermal vent. Tyra's forge turned the air molten and smoky, its crimson mouth rhythmically flaring like dragon's breath. Apparently immune to the sweltering heat, the huldumaiden pulled a glowing strip of metal from the fire and set it upon her anvil. Thunderous impacts resounded as she began hammering the steel into shape - folding it over and over again before hardening it in a bucket of slurry. She examined it carefully and then returned it to the forge's heart. Her large bovine eyes glanced up, finally noticing the pair standing in her shop. "Oy. If it anna the Kashfan Fighter. Come to harass ol'Tyra have ye? Weren't enough to sneak that red steel into me shop? And who's yer friend?" She idly turned the metal over in the fire, tapping her hoof impatiently. "What?" Cole asked, confused. "I'm not Kashfan, I've been fighting Kashf... oh, maybe that's what you meant. But I haven't come to harass you. And I don't know what you mean by red steel, either. Anyway, my friend here is Joao Galitzin. I think he can help you with what you're helping me with." "Dobroye Utro, Miss Tyra" Joao said, bowing his head. "I seem to have a talent for Making." the last word was capitalized "and my friend Cole here thought I might be able to meld my talents..." Joao wiped his brow from the heat and wished for a drink of water. A very large drink of water. He shook his head. "As I was saying, Cole thought that my esoteric skills might be usefully melded with your practical ones." Tyra snorted at Joao's choice of refreshment, "Well, boyo. I donna usually have people in me shop, muckin' aboot and getting under hoof. 'Specially nah people that donna drink fire." She crossed the room and retrieved a wine bottle from one of the rafter beams. It came spinning at Joao a moment later. "Take a bite off that and we canna talk," she said. Joao grabbed the bottle, and said what sounded like a Rebman prayer over the bottle. He then opened the flask, looked around doubtfully for a glass, and then took a drink straight out of the bottle. Even with Joao's 'prayer,' he could taste the honey fire on his tongue; settling in his stomach like a hot coal. Unprotected, he suspected the mead could have been used to cold-etch steel. Tyra's thick digit stabbed at Cole, "And you ye lyin' piece of shite. You know perfectly well wah I talkin' aboot, Lillte Oak." She pulled a tarp off a work table, uncovering several bars of crimson metal. It appeared to capture the forge's light, shining like polished fire. "This appeared while I slept. Right beside yer purse." [Red steel] Finndo exclaimed. [I haven't seen that much in one place since the Courts. When my first blade was forged.] Cole reverently took one of the bars, felt its weight in his hands. "Let's pretend I don't know anything about metallurgy. If I had delivered this here last night--and I'm not saying I did--how useful would it be in fulfilling my commission? Assuming it's not tainted somehow?" The metal felt like air in Cole's hand, but he could sense its impressive solidity. It also possessed a strange warmth; as if a fire burned deep within. Tyra's bovine nostrils flared, "Fine. I shall treat ye like an idiot. Probably nah far from the truth." She picked up an ingot and then slammed it against an old axe blade. The blade dented like bee's wax. But as the huldumaiden turned the ingot over in her broad hand, he could not see the slightest scratch or blemish on the red steel. "That be useful enough fer ye?" "I suspect," Cole said, staring at the axe blade, "that it will do nicely. I'm sorry if the method of delivery was unsettling. I'm... not really sure how that was accomplished. But it's plainly here for this purpose. Is there anything else you need to get started?" Tyra shrugged, "Time. But if ye intend te help, I can get to work on yer sword right now. Yer friend really good?" She glanced over at Joao. Cole smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Joao coughed, shaking his head. Tears brimmed to his eyes, and he mumbled another Rebman prayer, a distinctly different and shorter one, as he pushed the bottle away and back toward Tyra. "Too strong for me." Joao said. "I'll not..." he coughed. "have a second draught, thank you" Tyra shrugged her broad shoulders, "Yer choice, boyo." She gave him an accepting nod. Apparently by reflex, Cole intercepted the bottle and took a pull himself before handing it back to Tyra. The wash of honey fire blazed down Cole's throat like sweet, molten lead. Yesterday, he would have been on the floor, choking. But yesterday, he'd only been human. Finndo wakes in his mind, eager for another nip off the glass teat. Joao gave a glance at Cole, as if seeing him with new eyes. Cole was so entranced by the red steel that he didn't even notice Joao's stricken state. But since a hearty back pounding was unlikely to help the Rebman, it was probably just as well. <<Delwin, what is this metal that Cole and the smith are so interested in?>> Joao asked internally, finally casting his eyes to what Cole and Tyra were doing. <<It is said to be formed from the blood of the Unicorn and the Serpent, spilled during the Arche - their battle for supremacy over Creation. As such, it possesses qualities of both Order and Chaos, so that it can affect either and remain immune to both. It is likely one of the only metals that can deflect a Pattern or Logrus blade and remain unharmed.>> Tyra waved Joao over to the forge, "So, what can ye do?" "A fair question." Joao said. "Let's find out how my abilities stack up against this material. I honestly don't know if I can shape it, but Cole, and I, want to try. I *should* ask for one of the bars for a weapon for myself, if I can work it." Setting himself against the heat, he stepped to where the work table held the bars of the red metal. Joao laid his hands on the closest of the bars. And then as his hands rested on it, he willed himself, and Delwin to create a sword suited for Cole, out of the material. As Joao picked up the red steel, he felt an immediate wave of familiarity and wistfulness. He recalled winter chill and forge flame heat on his sooty skin. The lulling song of steel and anvil, the protests of his aching arm. A spear head, long and wicked, formed beneath his hammer, glowing red. And in the shadows, Sand watched on with envious eyes as he forged the weapon to murder their father. <<Delwin's memories. My memories. Our memories>> Joao vowed to recall the thoughts, later. Not now. Now, he had work to do. The red steel began to heat up in his hands, its impossibly hard surface becoming more malleable. His mind burned with the effort, his strength bleeding out of him with every breath. Last night's conjuration had been effortless, in comparison. He knew he could not do this alone. As if through some silent connection, Tyra guided him over to the anvil. She picked up her hammer and began to strike the red steel between his hands. Somehow, Joao knew she would not injure him as she worked; barely feeling the powerful impacts. He served as the forge's flame, she as the manifestation of his will. Soon, her expert blows shaped the metal into a long strip - the beginnings of a sword. Joao's hands kept working, moving, a flow of motion as he poured his effort into the shaping of the metal. The clanging of the hammer rang like the ringing of a bell. He remembered the sword Cole had used, favored. That is what his friend needed, and what he intended to give him. This heat might kill him yet. but Joao kept the heat up, so that the smith's hammer could shape the strange material in his hands. Sweat dripped from his brow as Joao pressed onward. Cole watched, uncharacteristically silent, torn between fascination with the process, eager anticipation of the results, and concern for his straining friend. <Is there anything we can do to help?> he asked Finndo. <Wasn't I supposed to add my blood to the steel, or something like that?> <Once they have shaped the blade> Finndo replied. <The first blood it tastes must be your own.> Without the need to reheat and temper the blade, Tyra worked ceaselessly. She folded the steel and folded it again, hammering it until both she and Joao were near collapse. His skin darkened with the heat, turning a dull bronze, as if his hands and forearms were forged from the metal. And while he imaged Cole's favored blade, the shape that came into existence did not match the one in his mind. Something far older and more powerful guided his actions now. Something older than he or Delwin. Tyra nodded, "Ye cin let go, boyo." She carefully poured a bucket of slurry over the two-handed blade, sulfurous steam filled the air. As the dark liquid drained away, the sword gleamed with an inner fire, as if it had been polished and sharpened over man, many hours. Joao backed away once he let his hands go. "What did we make?" Joao said, aware that it sounded like he was speaking of himself and Tyra. He really addressed the question to mean himself and Delwin. <<It's Pattern-bound to him, whatever it is. Or rather to Finndo. I could feel the Pattern summoning it back from the aether.>> "Unicorn preserve us," the huldumaid muttered. Cole recognized the imposing sword. Or rather the man he'd been millennia before recognized it. His first sword. The one given to him by his father: Oberon. Tyra waved him over, "Grab a knife and open a vein." Joao backed away slightly, finding a place to lean against to observe the proceedings. As if hypnotized, or part of a ritual, or both, Cole picked up a half-finished knife from a nearby work bench and walked over to the sword. Holding his left wrist above, he slowly drew the knife across the vein. His blood seemed to glow with its own fire in the blood-red forge light as it trickled down to meet the sword's matching glow. The droplets smoked and sizzled as they fell upon the blade's glimmering surface. Veins of crimson seeped and spread along the sword's entire length, deepening its crimson sheen to a dark, mirrored shine. Almost as quickly as the blood had spilled from him, Cole's wound healed over - leaving a ghostly scar. "It truly is his sword now." Joao said softly. "It will not likely brook another wielder willingly." Tyra stepped back from the anvil, regarding both men suspiciously. "Ye two are Royal-born, ain't ye? Only they cin do that sorta magic." Joao stepped away from where he was leaving. Training and breeding straightened his back. He bowed, shaking his head as he returned to a standing position "Nyet. I am from the Noble Rebman House of Galitizin." Joao said. "Both Gospodin Cole and I have contacts with the Royals, however." he added. "We have been privileged to have learned things that we ourselves formerly did not know we could accomplish." Tyra's bovine tail brushed back and forth on the floor, as she rubbed her horn thoughtfully. "Close enough, I suppose." "For what it's worth," Cole said, rubbing the scar on his wrist, "I am royal born, just not Amber royal born, which is probably what you mean. I can't do any magic, but I've been changed by my arrival here. And I'll take whatever help I can get to hunt the things I told you about. If you'd seen them, you'd understand, but be glad you don't understand." His hand reached out, stopping just short of touching the new-forged blade, held back by its heat, but driven by a longing to reconnect with something that was once part of him. Tyra grunted in acknowledgment. "Well then, we'd best use the rest of this, eh?" She gestured to the last two bars of red steel. "I'd intended te make dem inte bracers. Donna know why though. Just felt right. That alright with you, Little Oak?" Cole pulled back his hand. "I think that's exactly what I need." She raised a brow in Joao's direction, "Think ye cin do dat again?" "He'll be fine after he's had a bit of a breather," Cole said. "I can get some water for him, that will help. But unless the strain will actually kill him, we need to finish these before tonight." "Da" Joao said. "I need water. Lots of water. Pazhaluista. "Besides your" Joao paused, unsure of the adjective and finally settled on one "new sword, Cole, what other weapons did you intend for the forgemistress and I to make?" "If I have a sword that won't dissolve on the first hit," Cole replied, "that will be weapons aplenty for now. But I need armor too. I can't keep fighting if I'm dead. You saw what happened last night. I'd rather prevent something like that than depend on Temnal to heal it afterward. Besides, it hurt. A lot." "Armor" Joao said slowly. Dehydration was getting to him again, he thought. "Da." He looked over to the red steel bars. "Perhaps something like Lorica squamata from Shadow Ostia." Joao thought of the shadow that had fallen to Rebman territorial expansions. "I don't think there is enough red steel for more than that, or a breastplate, although the forgemistress may disagree." He looked in Hulda's direction, and wiped the sweat from his brow. "No, no, no," Cole said, waving his hand. "Just the bracers. Tyra's right. That's what I need." He looked into Joao's tired eyes. "It's what _we_ need," he added, and Joao could feel another, more powerful voice intertwined with Cole's. Joao frowned at the conflation of Cole and his bonded Amberite's power in his voice. Instead of meekness, he returned Cole's look with strength, drawing upon his reserves, and Delwin's. Cole blinked, twice, and looked away. "Sorry," he mumbled. "He wants this really bad. And I never want to see the inside of my arm again." Tyra nodded and began heating the steel in the forge. “If you got de coin, I cin help make ye all a full set of armor. Several, if ye like. As light as air and as strong as marble. Now, while this is heatin’, feel free to grab some food and water in back. And ye cin feel free to explain te me what in hell ye bin fightin’ that melts steel.” "I will leave the explanation to Gospodin Cole" Joao said, heading toward the back for the promised water. Joao found the pitcher beside a large plate of bread and hard cheese. “Help yerself,” Tyra called. "Spaesba" Joao said. He alternated bites of bread and cheese with gulps of water. Just being away from the Forge made him feel better, but the creation of Cole's new sword had been the most difficult thing he had done thus far. <<Who would think I would need endurance training to make things>> Joao thought wryly to Delwin. <<I am still dead, you realize>> with equal wryness. <<The Dead rarely function well during the sunlit hours. And all work requires effort. But you’re handling the strain well enough.>> "The thing we've been fighting," Cole said, unsure how much to explain, "had acid for blood. Any weapon I hit it with dissolved after the first strike. We managed to kill it last night, but there are more. And we don't know what those are like, or where they all come from." He unconsciously rubbed his right arm, where the beast's blood had splashed. "I think they're causing the apathy syndrome. They seem to eat souls." “I’ve herd whispers of people losing their souls,” Tyra replied, as if this is perfectly normal. “But hadna heard it called dat. Mostly beggers or the mad. One mornin’ walk up, staring inte nothingness. Cin ‘ardly feed themselves. But a few nights ago, a youngin’ down the lane turned up dat way. ‘Course our lovely Black Watch blames us furiners.” She turned the metal over in the fire, checking how it glowed. With a nod, she pulled it out and began hammering the core steel toward the proper length. By this point, having consumed a prodigious amount of bread, cheese and especially half the pitcher of water, Joao returned. “So, tell my boyos,” she said after a moment, putting the metal back into the forge. “Why would ye be huntin’ such things? Not exactly yer fight is it?” "Didn't think we were just doing it as our civic duty, huh? You're right. It started with them hunting us," Cole said. "Each night these things come out, and we're the only ones that can see them. But because we can see them we're also more vulnerable. So rather than hiding and hoping they don't find us, we're hunting them down. We hope that if we take the big ones out, they'll all go away." "I'm sure it sounds crazy," Cole continued, "and I haven't told you the craziest parts. But mostly I'm hoping that once your work here is done, you never need to know anything more about this. You've been a big help. It would be a lousy form of gratitude to let you get more involved. Maybe someday soon it will be over and I'll come back with some choice beverages and I can tell you stories about all the things your handiwork saved me from." "Once they are dead and gone, da." Joao agreed. Tyra gave a sharp snort, “I would enjoy dat, aye.” "Shall we work on the bracers now?" Joao continued. "And will there be any red steel afterwards left?" Tyra nodded and pulled the metal from the fire. It glowed dimly in the daylight, radiating a heat beyond that of flame and forge. She set the flattened plate on the anvil and picked up her hammer. “Right, boyo. Work yer magic.” She began to hammer, sending sparks flying like playful fireflies. “Der’ll be enough fer a dagger at most,” she yelled between deafening swings. "Then that is what I am going to request for my portion." Joao said. He wasn't entirely familiar with anything in particular that Cole wanted in the bracers. Thusly, Joao went for a standard design, imagining the shape of bracers he had seen in depictions of warriors in Amber and beyond, and willed himself to have the energy to make those dreams a reality. Cole watched silently, wondering what would take shape, and how familiar it would look, and whether the bracers would also want his blood to be the first they tasted, even though that didn't seem like a very bracer-like thing to want. Tyra began to hammer the metal flat; deftly avoiding Joao’s hands. Although sparks flew with each impact, they never quite touched the student’s hands. The heat from the metal offered him no true discomfort, Delwin’s power protecting him from the mortal dangers. That same power continued to fuel the fire within the metal, allowing its shaping to continue without the constant returns to the forge and cooling slurry. Somehow, without a shaping rod, the red steel began to curve. Tyra blinked in shock, but she had witnessed enough miracles today to simply continue with her work. Joao’s image began to take shape, arching the metal into a tube - creating the shape of a bracer. Once again, the image in his mind began to alter and take a life of its own. Etchings and details emerged from the glowing metal, providing the bracer with character. Once done, they began on the bracers twin. Cole recognized tehm, of course. They’d been a part of his body for hundreds of years, saving him from numerous injuries. Every groove had a story. Every scratch a memory of some battle or duel. Another life taken. Tyra finally fell back exhausted, but still possessed enough strength in her huge body to catch Joao. The young man felt hollowed out, the world spinning and choking and heavy around him. Cole took Joao from her and carried him out to the back. He set the exhausted Rebman down next to the plate and put the half-filled pitcher in his hands. "Nice work," he said. "Take it easy. I'll be back in a minute." "Spaesba, Cole" Joao said weakly. He felt like he had done a hundred laps in the pool. Worse, for he was not connected to his element. He drained the pitcher and hoped that was enough to refresh him enough to move. He wanted that dagger and even in his weakened state, hoped he could make one. As he refreshed himself, Joao noticed a single bar of red steel that had been overlooked. . . or had it even been there before? Did it matter? He had what he required. Delwin gave an exhausted nod. <I have enough left in me, I think.> <<Class is going to be not much fun after this>> Joao replied in agreement. He returned to the forge and admired the bracers. "Are they done?" he asked Tyra. "Or is there something else I need to do to bond with them, like I did with the sword? Please tell me I don't have to go ahead and put them on right now." “Another touch of blood,” Tyra said, rubbing the back of her thick neck. “Nah as much as last time. Just enough te give ‘um a feel fer ye.” She took a swig from her bottle and hissed with relief, “Lordy. What a day.” "I should see how this blooding thing is done." Joao said. He looked at Cole and Tyra. "I want to make a kinzhál,a Rebman dagger." he said and reached for the last bar of red steel. "With this. I suppose it should be blooded, too, once it is made." Tyra nodded, “Aye. All rune-weapons require sacrifice. They need te know yer blood, lest they drink it later on by mistake. Magic cin turn on ye. At least that’s what my papa taught me.” "All this bleeding," Cole said, "makes me wonder what makes the steel red in the first place. No, don't tell me, I really don't want to know." Using the same knife he'd used before, Cole cut his left wrist again in the same place, muttering, "Worked so well here the last time, and healed fast too. No sense re-inventing the wheel." After letting the blood flow from his wrist down to his fingertips, he flicked some drops onto each bracer. Once again, the blood hissed and spit as it touched the red metal. Crimson oozed beneath the shiny surface, spreading out like ink dropped into a glass of water. Soon, the bracers gleamed with an inner light, much like their bladed counterpart. Inwardly, Cole felt a happy laugh resonate in his chest. <After all these years. To be reunited with my three ladies. They’ll keep better company than any woman, boy. And they’ll always be true.> Cole chuckled. <So you like your ladies cold, hard, and bloodthirsty, as long as they're loyal? I think we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one.> <I believe we shall disagree on a great many things, boy. As long as we do not part ways on the shedding of blood.> Aloud, Cole said "Those look perfect. Let's clear them out of the way now, so Joao can get his dagger. Is there anything I can do to help? Get more water? I feel kind of useless standing around bleeding while you two do all the work." More seriously, he added, "Joao, you look pretty beat. Is there anything I can do to support you while you work? Something your friend might have taught you?" "This is pretty new to me, and I don't think my friend taught me anything that could help share the burden." Joao said wryly. <<I promise you some rest until at least this evening, after this>> Joao sent. "Water, and lots of it would be welcome, Gospodin Cole. Perhaps food, too. This is wearying, to say the least." "Da" Joao said, standing and looking at the forgemistress. "Let us do this. A Rebman dagger, a kinzhál. Not too different than the one I used at a Blade Dancing exhibition Lady Karm hosted." That seemed so long ago, Joao thought. And where had Rusalka disappeared to, anyway? In his mind, he was reimagining the blade he had used, giving it even more Rebman flare and touches. A weapon suitable for the Heir to Galitzin, and deadly to the creatures of the Darkest Hour. That is what Joao intended to make. Tyra nodded wearily and rose to her hooves, “Righto, I’ve gah enough strength in me arm fer one more pig-sticker.” She rubbed her massive bicep and chuckled, “Mind putting that in the fire while I work out this kink? Turn it over thrice. Ye’ll know when the steel begins to sparkle. Dat’s the carbon starin’ te burn. Then puller out and we’ll get this done.” Joao nodded, listening. The potency of conjuration with forging was one he had come to realize was far more potent than even him and Delwin in the Darkest Hour. He resisted the urge to dwell and think about this, and steeled himself to pay attention. She instructed Joao through the process; Delwin’s impression of her improving with every passing moment. <You’ve forged her as well, today> he said, enigmatically. Joao decided to withhold comment for the moment, filing it away for reference. When the metal had reached it proper temperature, Tyra picked up her hammer and began to work. Sparks flew and steel flattened. Once again, Joao felt the impacts both eternally and internally, as if his very soul was being forged. With supernatural alacrity, the knife took shape beneath the hammer, forming into its wicked incarnation. Tyra plunged it into the slurry with a loud hiss and then washed and dried it off. And yet, oddly, the red steel appeared to glisten as if still wet. A bead of green liquid clung to its deadly tip. Sea snake venom, Joao realized. "Somehow, I have made an envenomed weapon." Joao said, staring at the tip. "And so that tells me your name, dangerous and beautiful one." he said, speaking more to the dagger than to Tyra or Cole. He did finally turn his attention to Cole. Tyra rubbed the back of her neck, “Unicorns teats, what a day. Te many miracles fer me.” She headed into the rear of the shop, forging for another bottle of mead. She gave a triumphant moo when she located a dark green bottle. "Something for me to bite on when we blood me with this would be most appreciated. This is going to hurt when I blood the weapon." "I wouldn't call myself an expert at this," Cole replied, "but I didn't cut myself with my blade itself, what with it being red hot and all. Why don't you see if this will suffice, rather than simultaneously burning and poisoning yourself?" He handed Joao the unfinished knife he'd used to blood his sword and bracers. The blacksmith took a pull from her bottle and hissed through the fiery bliss. “Aye. The blade simply needs a taste. Donna need te be shed by it. Der a clean knife around hear somewhere, I’m sure. Or dat one. Take yer pick.” She thrust the bottle at Cole, nodding. Cole gratefully accepted, taking a pull of his own. He made to hand the bottle back, then his eyes opened wide and he took in a great gasp of the forge-heated air, which didn't seem to help. He pounded his chest once with his other fist, coughed once, then began to breathe more normally again. "I suppose it's not sanitary for you to use the same knife I used," Cole said, with a nod a Joao. "A bit of this"--he waved the bottle--"on the blade would certainly sterilize it, but it would be such a waste..." He took another swig from the bottle and handed it back to Tyra. "Another knife would be best" Joao said. He looked around for a minute, while Cole enjoyed his quaff, and finally saw a knife similar to the one Cole had used. Before he could regret the decision, he carried it over to where the kinzhal waited. As Cole had done, trying to mirror his movements, he positioned his left wrist above where the envenomed dagger waited. Clenching his teeth, he drew the knife across the vein to let the blood trickle onto the waiting weapon. "Veneni" Joao said, formally, as if naming his child. "Of poison." As the knife drank its fill, the red steel glistened and shone even brighter. Somehow, he knew the name pleased the conjuration. Soon enough, Joao’s wrist sealed itself back u, leaving behind little more than a ghostly line. The last traces of Delwin faded from his mind, leaving behind emptiness and the pressing weight of exhaustion. <Sleep> Joao urged Delwin, figuring he was already doing so. "We'll need a sheath, just for you. Shark-skin would be traditional. I am certain I can have one crafted." he said to Veneni. Tyra nodded in approval, still taking deep pulls from her bottle. “Ye got a job hear if ye ever need one, Prince of Tides. May me teats fall off if dat ain’t amazin’ work.” Cole raised an eyebrow. "Amazing work," he agreed. "I was surprised myself, lady" he said to Tyra, dipping his head. "I thank you for the opportunity to test and grow my skills." Tyra jerked a nod. “Good on ye. And if yer needin’ a sheath fer dat butter- knife, I can order in some shark-skin fer ye. Add a little metal and decoration fer yer House, eh? I’ll show ye how to do the finer work. Dat is if yer willin’ te be an apprentice, yer Lordshipness.” Joao considered this for a moment. The thought of simply getting one from his House was much easier, simpler and in a sense less controversial. On the other hand, a unique weapon like Veneni needed a sheath as unique as she was. Nothing less would do. "I would consider it a favor if you did so." Joao agreed, dipping his head. “Come back in a day er so, I’ll have it fer ye,” Tyra stated with huldumaiden certainty. <Ah, that reminds me,> Cole asked Finndo. <Do your ladies have names? If not, I'd be happy to provide.> He smirked. <But you probably wouldn't like what I'd come up with.> <The blade I called Badhbh, while the bracers were named Macha and Morrigan. I did always have a thing for sisters.> He gave a bawdy laugh. <Maybe we should name this incarnation after our Huldemaid. And sheath another kind of sword with her, eh? In thanks for her service.> <No.> Cole thought firmly. <Faithfulness goes both ways, right? I'm only interested in Rhea, if she'll have me. That's why I broke things off with Silk.> <We'll see how our new ladies perform in their first battle,> Cole added, changing the subject. <If I'm inspired, these incarnations will have new names. And that will save the effort of learning how to spell the names of their previous incarnations.> Finndo sighed <As you wish. I might add, though, this woman has comfortable looking hips and something you can hold onto. But if you prefer those skeletal types, I’ll not complain too much. As long as she moans like a whore at the right times, what care I? At the very least, can you split someone’s head in short order? I have a hankering for some excitement.> <Wow. You really do all your thinking with your muscles. If you're going to keep living in my head, we're going to have to expand your horizons. As for splitting heads though, these fine ladies are going to get a workout tonight, I assure you.> <That will do, I suppose.> He could feel the Other fading away, distracted by other thoughts. "I suppose" Joao put in, looking at Cole. "It is time for class. Perhaps a late breakfast beforehand." "I'm pretty sure I already missed my first class," Cole said with a shrug. "Math. Ick. Math won't much matter if some gibbering thing kills me. But my drawing class is coming up, and I would like to make that. It's relaxing. I think my latest drawings are starting to weird out my professor, though." Tyra snorted and returned to her forge, “Then piss off with ye both. Ye probably ruined me today, puttin’ me back as ye have. I swear der better be some more coin comin’ my way in the future. And tales of yer demon-fightin’ at least. Tyra wants to know how her work performed, eh?” "We'll be sure to let you know," Cole said. On an impulse, he gave her a bear hug. "And now I have some confidence we'll survive to do it. Thank you." She gave both men a nod and began shoveling more coal into the forge’s burning belly. Cole looked down at their sweat-soaked uniforms. "Yep. Change of clothes, then class. Man, this one's going to ripen fast. Looks like I'm visiting Mury today too." "New clothes. Definitely." Joao looked at his own uniform and wrinkled his nose."I will be sure to visit the pool again after class and before this evening" Joao said conversationally as they left the forge. [continued in Blood on the Water, Noble Doubts] |
