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Post by SASHA L. on Jun 18, 2013 23:59:21 GMT -6
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,bTable][atrb=style, width:360px; padding:5px; background-color:#eee;] all my dead friends look a lot like you | | [atrb=style, background-color:#333; max-width:360px; ] The blonde fanned herself sweating in the summer heat. It was sunny, and the sky was cloudless, but she’d underestimated how far the beach actually would be. No doubt this wouldn’t be a problem in the future once she got herself an animal to ride on, or simply got used to the walking everywhere in Sepalum. This place was far from being an interconnected city though. Sasha doubted she’d last long without some sort of transportation that wasn’t herself or riding someone’s back. Not that she’d ever do such a thing. The blonde was far too dignified to do that. It seemed she wouldn’t make it to the beach today.
Holding back a tired groan she perked up at the sight of the mine, and the mine’s shops. Perfect! There was bound to be some sort of A.C functioning in there right? After all it must be awfully hot being a blacksmith. While she was at it she could look into buying some tools to work with, and maybe some gloves to keep away the calluses. After all, she wouldn’t be able to afford a green house for a while, and the thought of mining her own gemstones intrigued her. Plus there wouldn’t be much else to do in the winter, and she definitely did not want to go back home to her family. Sasha couldn’t help but grimace at the thought of returning home for the holidays. Surely, that rat bastard would be waiting for her. Though she doubted he cared enough anyway. “No..” she chided herself massaging her cheeks so she would stop making ugly faces. She didn’t want frown lines after all. She was too young for that!
The woman approached the Blacksmith’s shop, glancing up quickly as the door bell jingled. She made a note to install one in her own shop before it opened. She milled around studying the goods. The place gave her a very rustic feel, which was something she wanted in her own home. The blonde pulled up her sleeves spotting a rack of tools. She just needed the basics right? The woman picked a large hammer and decided to test it. Sasha lifted it up quickly, underestimating the hammer’s weight. Letting out a yelp she dropped the hammer back to the group swallowing as it nearly missed her own foot. Gently leaning the tool back on the rack she shook her palms quickly already feeling a painful strain on them. It was probably time the florist called for help before she injured herself. Sasha turned away from her future purchases and leaned on the counter waiting for someone to attend her. “Good Afternoon, anybody.” She called announcing herself just in case. “I was hoping to purchase some mining tools.” She added with a polite smile. The news of a future client was sure to speed up the help. tag |
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Post by EZEKIEL L. on Jul 15, 2013 22:19:53 GMT -6
[cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width:400px; background-color:#ffffff; border: 2px solid #000000,bTable]Lets walk through the fire together, disappear in the golden sand
| [cs=2] Despite the quaint, picturesque modesty of Primula Town, the weather this day was unusually deceitful. The sky was a lustrous gradient of cerulean and turquoise, not a single cloud stranded between either horizon. Such an intense coloration gave the impression of a refreshing breeze, cool like the very luminescent waters of the Orchis Ocean surrounding the peninsula. But the sun, it seemed, planned a different agenda. It glowed like a ball of white fire, suspended equidistant in the sea of blue, smothering the inhabitants of the town with a thick layer of hazy heat and humidity. Of course, given the season and the cape's rather tropical location, it hardly seemed out of place. But much to Ezekiel's dismay, the habitual heat of the blacksmith's shop seemed to increase tenfold when partnered with such a formidable, uncontrollable entity.
He'd attempted at providing the the atmosphere with a sliver of a reprieve by opening the windows - and he liked to think that it somehow helped - but nonetheless, his workshop was incessantly broiling, fueled by the forge simmering along the wall. The two available fans were left in the shop front for the benefit of his clientele, strategically flanking the entrance and crowning the austere counter-top. The red-head was grateful, though, that in such profuse warmth his work-day was rather lax. Previous days of the week had been spent doing a various list of things - cutting, hammering, molding, bending, chiseling and torching - though all pertained to one commission: fashioning a custom firescreen from steel. Why anyone wanted such an item of decor in the summer was beyond the blacksmith, though he supposed that perhaps some wife wanted a pretty addition to the family room - not that he'd refuse any chances at making money, either. Presently, Ezekiel stood over his workbench, finishing the scroll-work insets of the screen doors with files and a wire brush.
So noisy were his endeavors that, coupled with the low drone of the fans and the crackling of his forge, the tinkling of the front door was muted, and thus unfortunately lost on his plagued sense of hearing. He was polishing the curve of one corner scroll, slow, tedious and patient, when the clamor of a heavy object connecting with hardwood startled him. The red-head started at the sound, craning his neck to glance at the threshold connecting his workspace to the shop front with wide jade eyes. What in the world- he cried internally, dropping the tools in his hand to the table with a clack. There was a distinct quiet after such an odd and undeserving noise, so Ezekiel paused, taking time to slip the heavy gloves from his blackened hands as he focused intently with his ears, waiting.
Only moments later did he catch the smallest indications of movement before the counter, followed by the call of a feminine voice.
Turning swiftly on his heel, the man sauntered towards the far side of the room, wiping his sweaty hands on the fabric of his black tank top for good measure. He didn't want to leave a lasting, unpleasant impression on a customer with a moist handshake. He rounded the corner, moving slowly so as not to frighten her with his presence, then poked his head through the doorway. "Hello." Ezekiel replied curtly, nodding at her with a polite, close-lipped smile as he stepped into the cool air of the room. He mulled over what he'd heard her say while he was in the back and looked her over as he did so, before realizing exactly what she was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn't. A light flush tinted his cheekbones as the red-head dropped his gaze, clearing his throat in an effort to bring himself the resolution not to stare at the amounts of her exposed skin. Now was not the time to be questioning why she was wearing a bikini top around town.
The customer is always right, he'd learned. Ezekiel vaguely wondered if that even applied to attire - wasn't the rule "no shirt, no shoes, no service"?
Just don't draw attention to it, he decided, raising a hand to wipe at his mouth, before addressing her again. "M-mining tools, you said?" The red-head chuckled a little, scratching the back of his neck. "You'd, uh- probably be better off buying those next door." Admittedly, he did make mining tools, but those were usually the requests of the shop owner, not his own customers. Still, he didn't want to dismiss the fact that she was, for whatever reason, interested in utilizing his services. "What were you, uh- looking for, exactly?"
| words 764 tagged kimmy and the fabulous sasha
notes This took me almost a month, I'm so sorry :c |
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