beau hawthorne

✧･ﾟ: * ( cis male / he/him / sam heughan ) — welcome to ireyne, [ BEAU HAWTHORNE ] of [ ARELLA ]. when the doom came, you were [ DOOMED ]. at [ THIRTY SEVEN ] years of age, your body has changed, and they now call you [ IGNIS ]. the act of [ BLACKSMITH ] suits you; after all, the whispers always said you were [ FORTHRIGHT ] but also [ NONCOMMITAL ]. you are [ FOR ] the doom. 

The invasion of the undead had put Beau in a bit of an odd mood. Primarily, he was mostly peeved at the whole scenario - the chaos had forced him away from a few projects that were at critical stages and not only would he have to start those again, it had sent him in a bit of a fury on the streets outside his forge. Needless to say, there were now piles of charred undead which he’d done his part to at least pile in a somewhat cohesive matter -- after he’d poked around the bodies of course, there had been more than few glittering gems and old antique weaponary that had caught his eye that would be interesting projects or components for later. He leaned his weight on the handle of his broom, having pushed another pile of debris far and away from his main workspace. While having the area only bordered by two walls often kept the airflow going, it was a pain when it came to defending the place from ill weather, dust and apparently the undead. Maybe he it was about time to get a proper gate and fence. He was deep in his thoughts when scuff in the dirt towards the street caught his attention, “Afraid the forge is cold today, if you’re here for repairs. I’ve got more than a few of my own to make,” he mused, turning his gaze from the debris to his forge, part of the structure had been cracked and frankly needed a lot of attention before he could safely bring it up to the temperatures he needed. 

“YES, SHE’S… SEEN BETTER DAYS. IF IT’S ANY CONSOLATION, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ITS STATE.” he hands him the sword and watches as he observes it. faustus had been used to these sorts of chores as a royal bastard and guard. verax had sent him a multitude of times to the city to sharpen his swords… he even picked up a working woman once. she had been discreetly sent back after verax had paid for her services.

“I DO HAVE THEM,” he remarked. “THEY WERE INITIALLY ON, BUT THEY POPPED OUT AFTER THE SWORD FELL.” faust had thankfully noticed it on verax’s person when he —

faust still had verax’s other sword, his more practical sword. this had been one of his more ceremonial swords. faustus was glad to have saved it. “SORRY IT’S IN SUCH A STATE.”

Beau eyed the man carefully over the sword, setting it down carefully on the table. Beneath the cloak, there was a heavy set to his shoulders, like much weight burdened them. “Its no trouble, something tells me you’re not the one at fault with this. It’ll take some work but it’s not impossible.”  

Holden turned slowly. He knew exactly where he was - walking right past his forge - but he had been hoping Beau was cloistered inside, not standing on the street to catch Holden digging through his satchel. He looked down at his jacket surreptitiously, and felt the back of his neck heat up slightly at the dirty state of it. He looked back up at Beau, the handsome face practically glowing in the setting sun’s orange light, and tightened his mouth, before looking away again. “What ever do you care about where I’m off to?” He said brusquely.

“I’d rather not tell you, so you can save your lunch in your belly, Beau, you don’t want to know…” Isolde’s eyes rolled at the memory, then moved, balanced on her tiptoes to peer at her beloved dagger over Beau’s shoulder. A pesky mother, concerned about one of her favourites. “But she had a good fight in her, and I don’t have the heart to tell her unseemly she looks. A vain object that one, but I’m in denial to retire her.” she smirked, eventually sitting on a bare spot of Beau’s work bench. “Were you worried for me? Mainly, worried I wouldn’t keep providing you with so many damned projects?” 

Beau raised an eyebrow over the blade, “Oh don’t tease me so, Isolde, you know I love a good tale. Worry about you? Tsk, I’d more worry about those that would encounter you in a tight spot,” He straightened up and set the blade down. gesturing over his shoulder towards the forge, still lit, but not burning as intensely as it normally would be earlier in the day. Any and all surfaces were covered in a myriad of projects since people started returning from the siege against the castle. “I don’t think I’d truly need to worry about a question of quantity in projects -- everyone’s been claiming they’ve got all sorts of ‘interesting’ out of that damned castle.”

“Tell them one of your best customers has strict skip-the-queue privileges.” Isolde drawled, flipping her long dagger hilt once, twice, before presenting it to the blacksmith. “It’s Viper this time, looking a bit old and bitter.” She shot him a knowing look and rested her weight on her palm, flat, against his working table. As though though her blades were her children. For this, she’d managed to pay extra where she could in exchange for his discretion pristine quality. Ranging back to the days of naive youth, when she paid him with more time, more affection, than currency. 

“Heavens above, what’d you do the poor girl, hack away at a ogre or something? Or that nasty dragon business I keep hearing rumours about?” Beau said, quickly taking up the familiar dagger. “Jeez, Isolde,” he muttered, eyeing the blade. It was bloody crooked. Yes, only just, but he grimaced, just thinking about the tedious work it would take. “What on earth happened in that bloody castle?” He asked, looking lifting his gaze to meet her own. “I mean, I assume you went, seems like it was the place to be recently.” 

faustus placed his brother’s sword on the smithy’s table. “I NEED THIS REPAIRED, AND I NEED THE JEWELS RESET. I HAVE ENOUGH COIN. I’M JUST SHIT AT SMITHING.” his voice is low and a bit monotone. he still hasn’t gotten over verax. he’s not sure if he’ll ever get over it. he needs to be. 

however, beau was one of the better smiths around, and he can’t remember if he’d gone to get verax’s swords sharpened here before the doom. either way, he’s saved up most of his coin for this. he wants to do verax the honor of… well, faustus will wield that sword one day, but for now, he wants it in pristine condition. he’s not yet worthy of holding it.

“NAME YOUR PRICE, AND I WILL MATCH IT.”

Beau raised an eyebrow as he looked at the sword set before. “Well, it’s been a good while since I’ve last seen this one and she looked a lot better than this the last time it left my care,” he said, mildly disapproving of the shape it was in. It had taken a right beating, undoing all the work he had set upon it moons ago. 

He set down the dagger he was working on and lifted the sword, eyeing the flaws both obvious and invisible unless you knew what you were looking for. “Hm, don’t suppose you’ve all the original jewels?” He asked, noting more than a few empty sockets. 

“Well, well, well, look who the wind blew in. Headed out again soon for another ruin or whathaveyou, or are you of a mind to dust the road from your garb for a while yet?” 

“Listen the queue’s a league long, so if you’re here for repairs I’m afraid it’s going to be a while, at least a couple’ve weeks, unless you’ve got enough coin. That or an intriguing enough project for me,” Beau said, barely sparing a glance over his work table towards the open doorway of the smithy. It was a rare moment of him working on some detailing work rather than entrenched in the heat of the forge. Many had come back from the near city-wide trek to the castle, and though fewer had returned, along with them came weapons needing care and many of what he assumed were pilfered from the dead of the castle.