Rain always made Viktor moody.

The flames in the forge had been extinguished for an hour or so. Ue's shop was slowly cooling off, Viktor had opened all of the large windows and had the front door propped open with an old battered cannon ball. Viktor sat on a stool under the awning he had erected to protect his table of products from the precipitation.

Numerous weapons he had recently crafted were displayed in addition to the normal everyday sundries like axe heads, shovels, and the like. His knives were fairly popular among the sailor traffic that passed his joint owned smithy and some word of mouth business had been trickling in. The shop was doing well, better than it ever had really but still Viktor sat with a contemplative scowl. This was not what he'd come to Old Rose for. Plus, the rain was killing business.

Making axe heads and perfecting his weapon crafting could well have been done back home. He'd come to Old Rose with the ultimate goal of providing the resistance with weapons and making some kind of difference. So far he'd been in a fair number of fights, least proud of which was with Tristaan, that had achieved a small modicum of peace on his little piece of Old Rose but not much else.

A deep breath filled with the smells of the sea and the ozone of the rain made him smile despite his worries. This place had become home and he was glad of it. Despite its crime ridden streets Old Rose had an undeniable charm and Vik felt he belonged. He wasn't sure where he stood with the Brothers, the "voyage" on the Cutlass had been little more than a dead end. But the protection money visits had stopped, at least for the moment. That was a wound he was in no hurry to open back up with questions and so he let it be for the time being.

His thoughts floated back to Sarinah as they often did. Viktor had made his intentions clear, though in a thick headed, heavy handed way. She was more important than just her personal effect on his emotions. The lovely wick was an "in" to the Resistance and now she was here in the Harbor. No other course of moving forward with his goals was evident. He would have to visit her again but the wounds he'd caused were still fresh, he doubted he was welcome just yet.

"Clock it." Vik muttered under his breath, he didn't know where Ue's little daughter was and was always careful to spare her any profanity. "Ue, it's dead out here, I'm going for a walk." He called back into the shop. Pulling on his cloak and hood he stomped off through the puddles toward town. The surly blacksmith had no real idea where but he needed something to happen and it wasn't going to happen sitting on his stool.

Sarinah walked through the muddied streets of the Rose, barefeet dancing lightly off carefully placed boards and the steps of proprietries along the way to avoid the worst of it. She wore a long brown dress, a proper dress with short sleeves and a laced bodice. It felt wrong, odd...but at least it was proper. Since their fight, Sarinah had done what she could to change for the passive, to show him she wasn't the tumble she seemed to be. Wearing a thick grey hooded cloak over her loose black tresses, the witch made her way along, paying attention to her feet, not her path.

It was late morning, and she'd come into town to pick up some fish. Fresher fish than what Sparkles was prone to deliver. Too late she lifted her head, and too late she saw just where her feet had led her. Down the road was the harbor, and the fish market...but there, on the right, Viktor's forge.

"Vrunta." She swore softly to herself, slowing to a stop. It was just a building...and it was just Viktor. But things were different now...as she pondered, the very man appeared in the doorway, pulling on his cloak and stomping her way. What should she do? She could get to the harbor around the other side of the forge. Turning on her heel, she made her way back up the street.

As Viktor trundled up the soggy street he noticed a figure turn and hurry away. This wasn't odd in any way, there was a multitude of reasons someone would reverse course in Old Rose, a surly, muscled blacksmith stomping towards them was naturally high on that list.

In fact Vik barely even noticed the person, so lost in his own thoughts as he was. So, without making any real decision he began to follow the individual. Whether out of instinct, chance, or some subconscious decision his aimless wandering through the raining streets now had a bearing.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this figure seemed familiar.

Sarinah walked with her head down, hood pulled close around her face. It felt like she was running without running, the pit of her stomach tightening with each step. Had he seen her? She was so very tempted to turn around and look, but it was too risky.

Finally reaching the end of the street, she turned left to take the next road down to the harbour, risking a quick look back the way she'd come. A small thrill ran down her spine and she turned rapidly, almost running down the other street.

He was following her! Vrunta! Stopping briefly, she took a breath, walking at a normal pace again. He wasn't following her, he was just walking. Like a normal person. If she ran, then he would more than likely follow her. Stepping on the boards down the street, anklets tinkling lightly, she continued on, avoiding the muddy puddles.

As Vik continued down the slick, muddy street he had a sudden pause in his broodish thoughts. He suddenly realized just how hard the individual ahead of him was trying not to be noticed. It never failed, the harder you try to blend in the more you stick out.

Suddenly small pieces of recognition began to fall into place. The little things that allow people to pick out a friend or enemy in a crowded place. The small, insignificant movements, gestures, body language that only a strong acquaintance would pick up on. These all jumped up and hit Vik harder than any blow Tristaan had managed to land.

"Sarinah? Is that you?" Vik called out.

Sarinah slowed, closing her eyes, forehead creased. She swore softly under her breath, finally stopping. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and walked back around the corner, looking at the smithy with a small smile.

"Viktor...hesta." The dancer said softly, unsure of what to do now. He had surely noticed that she'd been keeping away from him - running away even. Twisting her hands a little, the brunette tried to think of something to say. Something that had nothing to do with the other day.

"You look...well. I uh...I was just on my way to the fish mongers. Benny haul coming in with all this rain. I..." She trailed off awkwardly, shrugging with a small chuckle. Looking at her hands, she swallowed.

"How are ye?" Sarinah asked, keeping her eyes on her fidgiting fingers.

He'd never seen her so flustered, she was usually so confident, so strong. Maybe his blunt way of handling an opposing suitor hadn't been as wise as he'd thought.

"I apologize for the other day, it was inevitable I hope you realize." Viktor said in his softest voice, it still sounded overly rough to him. "When two men as stubborn and willful as Trystaan and myself want the same thing it's only a matter of time when we see who would win in a scrap." It sounded stupid but it was the nature of all males, no matter the species or race. "You don't have to be uncomfortable around me Sar. Like I said, I'm not pushing my feelings on you, but I'm not the kind of man to keep them hidden. There is no reason to avoid me, I swear it."

He watched her for a moment, he wanted to give her a big friendly hug but could only see it as inappropriate given the circumstances. The blacksmith crossed his beefy arms across his chest instead.