Despite his years working with the smith in Knowles, there was still much to learn. Upon arriving in Old Rose, Seretur had quickly located the smithy and approached it's owner. The broad Gioran was thankful for work and a roof over his head and had told the master smith just that. It was now 19 days into his time in Old Rose, and just as much time in his stay at the smithy.

Today was a working day, a smaller order of replacement door hinges and handles from one of the local establishments had come in the day before. It had been just before mid-day when he decided to stop for something to eat. Now finished that, he was standing at the only clear spot at the work bench examining the tools he had brought with him. The soft sound of rain was the only noise, now that the work was on hold, and the large smith was off in his own world.

Eventually, as the morning dragged past and started to head toward afternoon, it finally felt like it was about time to wake up and get to running errands. Despite still-aching muscles and leftover sleepiness, Tristaan managed to dress and rummage for food before stumbling out the door and heading toward the general direction of the blacksmith.

It was raining, of course, as to be expected, but not quite as hard as it had been, which the passive was thankful for. It was much easier to work indoors in the pouring rain, but if one had to be out in it, there was little better to ask for than a light drizzle in Loshis.

The rest of the Harbor must have felt the same way, however, for by midday, the streets were crowded with people doing their business or on their way to find business. Tristaan just hoped the blacksmith's had a sign, or was at least obvious. Wandering the Harbor for hours was not on his list of things to do when there was already still a list of things left to do for the building process as it was.

((Sorry for not arriving; I'm going to see if Sarinah wants in. Carry on about your metalworking, and I'll arrive by next post if nothing else. ))

Sarinah walked with almost a skip in her step, avoiding the muddiest puddles as she made her way down the center street of the Rose. She'd stopped in to check on the jeweler, but the kindly man had informed her it would still be a few days before she could collect Tristaan's watch. Stopping by the dock itself, she gathered a nice large silver perch and two coconuts, milk and some cheesecloth, preparing to make a seafood gumbo and some cheese later. Glancing at the overcast and dripping sky, she turned her heel and made her way towards the smiths.

The dancer found herself excited to see Viktor Murgo again. It had been a long time, or so it felt, and she found herself nostalgic about it. The smithy was a good man, and a friend. With a little hitch of the basket on her arm, she continued on, wondering if the passive had beaten her there or not. They had planned to go there together at first, but after some discussion, it had just been easier to meet there instead.

Reaching the doors of the familiar forge, she knocked with a girlish grin and skipped inside.

"Ahh, Viktor! Long time no-oh!" She stopped, on hand on cocked hip, frowning at Seretur.

"You're not Viktor." The brunette said in a slightly confused and sheepish voice.

The ball peen hammer in his hands was starting to get worn. Jus' like a smith I know... It wouldn't be long before he'd need to replace it. Scarring in the head of the hammer would mean scarring on the work.

Hearing the forge doors swing open, the smith turned to see who it was. A young woman, well, younger than him, maybe wick? Those red streaks in her hair were a bit of a give away, but you never knew in Old Rose.

"Aye, yeh'd be right in tha'." Seretur smiled warmly, putting down the hammer, "But I ken guarantee yeh I ken do th' work almost as good."

Wiping his dirty palm on pants that probably didn't do much to take off the dirt he offered it to Sarinah, "Seretur, I ain't been workin' 'ere long. What ken I help yeh wit'?"

Tristaan entered just then, grateful for the sign and ready to slip out of the crowds. He'd spotted a familiar witch while down the street, amused that he'd been beaten in his more direct path to the blacksmith's than Sarinah. He hadn't been in any real hurry, however, despite the rain. Closing the door behind him, the passive took a moment to glance about the shop before stepping up behind the lovely witch, leaning a little over her shoulder so they touched a little.

He offered a warm grin to Seretur, hooking one thumb in the strap of the blade over his shoulder, unaware that he'd missed out on the surprise, "Is this your friend, macha? Hesta, we're here t'make sure you're busier than yesterday, I'd say."

The dancer refrained from smiling right away, a little put out that Viktor wasn't there. She'd not been in the harbor for a good while now, but surely smithery was a long term job? Part of her filled with a gnawing concern. Obviously, she would need to find out what happened to the smith, eventually.



Taking a breath to answer the man, Sarinah stopped and turned slightly as the forge door shut, frown turning to a warm smile as the very man she always wanted to see walked in. Leaning back against him slightly, she shook her head.

"Ne kov, this ent Viktor. This is the new smith, Seretur." Pausing, she turned her smile on the other man with an apologetic expression.

"Epameo smithy, I didn't mean to be rude, I was expecting someone else. Please don't take it the wrong way though, I ent upset to see you. Like my late companion pointed out, we're here about a job. Or two." Her smile turned into an impish smirk as she implied Tristaan had lost some sort of unspoken race.

The smith noted the young wick's slightly cool attitude to him, and her sudden warmth to the new arrival signified a relationship. A close one, with their proximity. The Gioran sighed inwardly, his own love life not being so fortunate. Letting his hand drop, the smith nodded with a smile to the man, "He ain't been 'round, somethin' 'bout pirates or some such." The large man shook his head, "Tha' I canna help yeh wit, but jobs I ken."

"So, what kind o' job yeh be thinkin'?" Seretur peered at the two inquisitively, broad arms crossed over his chest.

((SFSR))

((No need to be sorry. ))

Tristaan sniffed at the accusation that he was late, grinning a little. Last time he checked, there weren't any chairs to fight over in a smithy's; and it wasn't entirely his fault for having a late start to the day,

"Well, I s'pose I should ask if you know how t' weld. I've got some pipes I'd like t'run somewhere an' while I think I could figure out how t'do it, I'd rather find someone who knows they can instead of endin' up settin' somethin' on fire that shouldn't be, if'n you know what I mean." The passive smirked, "That said, I b'lieve we'll be needin' some pipe, an' a pole here that meets m'rosh's standards."

He paused, "Oh, an' I might be in th'market for somethin' new in th'blade department, but that can always come later."