Forgotten Sacred Forge

“Architecture,” Maeglin repeats with a question barely audible on his voice. “You must certainly be well-read.” That was certainly a varied set of interests and professions - both metalworking and architecture required education for both. But he wouldn’t be the only one to have such intensive study, although it wasn’t terribly common. 

“A truth that is lethal when ignored.” A slightly somber tone lifted somewhat in respect of the other man’s words, and Maeglin’s grey eyes slowly dropped from the other man’s eyes down his face to study his features. By the time they fell on his mouth, however, he had ceased speaking and did not notice the way his tongue would have glinted strangely in the half-light. He continues speaking, regardless. “It is a pleasure to chance a meeting to another with similar trade. My name is Maeglin, should you have need of my name.”

Ram nods in agreement and his fingers curl around his mug as he continues to study his drinking companion. He can’t recall when he last sat down to talk to someone so foreign; sharing a similar occupation made it easier to connect however and the conversation was pleasant.

“If a man cannot fight, he cannot protect innocent lives from those who would do them harm.” As much as he would prefer a peaceful world people would always be at odds with each other. People would always turn to violence, it was a given.

He’d remark about how things seem to quite literally be going to hell but he’s actually been to the underworld multiple times and it’s actually quite pleasant this time of year. Definitely no giant rampaging statues...

Oh? The way the stranger spoke instantly sparked Maeglin’s interest and his desire to talk more to this man - a rare thing indeed for him. 

A smile lifts at one corner of his mouth as he nods approvingly of the man’s response. 

“I agree,” he responds. “Bronze is too often passed on for more precious metals. Gold has become more common and silver tarnishes beautifully, but there is something warm and knowing and ancient about bronze.” After taking another drink, Maeglin looks up from his cup and gives the other an appraising look. “So you work metals to create things besides weapons - what is it you are skilled in most?”

The man lifts his head in pride, an expression that’s almost a bit offset by his scruffy , unkempt hair and simple attire. His work is important, and someone who understands the care that goes into selecting materials to work with is an interesting conversation partner.

“Architecture.” He nods knowingly, “For bronze, mostly decoration.”

There’s a pause as he glances down at the mug in his hands. Carefully crafted, a railing or statue could last quite some time, longer than anyone would remember the person who crafted it - god or mortal - in most cases.

Normally he’d have found a place to work by now, but it seemed this city was well off and had no need for a scruffy-looking blacksmith like him. With little coin left in his pocket and even luxury time for cultivation, he decided it was a perfect time to set up shop and at least earn a few meals before walking to the next town.

Soon the cloth was laid out with various styles of brass jewelry, each with a tiny parchment laying out the starting price. It was difficult to haggle without the ability to speak clearly, but who would buy something if they couldn’t haggle at all?

     Uh… ❝Hello to you, too?❞

     Concerned deer noises

“Baaaaaaa!”

💔 [ is ram gonna kiss the moon? www From Nymeyr :3c ]  > 17. a  kiss  to  give  up  control.

In all his years Ram had never once stumbled upon someone so peculiar. Nymeyr managed to encapsulate an air of mystery in his very being, radiant but not blinding, something that the god could have sworn was entirely out of this world but yet still of it.

Although he was often a kindhearted soul, Ram also knew wariness and betrayal all too well. To swear oneself to someone, especially a person he didn’t fully know, might be a mistake. Yet there was little mistaking the strange feeling he got from simply being next to the other -- perhaps if he understood Nymeyr’s nature as half of a supreme creator he might understand his own affinity, yet this was beyond his knowledge.

Instead the lesser god simply smiles and takes up Nymeyr’s hand in his own rougher, calloused one. He bows his head gently and places a kiss upon the back of the man’s hand, then sits up and leans forward to kiss Nymeyr’s forehead as well.

There was a good amount of trust in the sect leader’s tone and the idea of a good challenge had brought a sparkle to Ram’s eyes. The blade’s spirit was indeed more unwieldy than most, flitting about within the steel as if it were issuing a challenge to anyone who dared hold it. 

“It might take some time.” 

The saber spirits of the Qinghe Nie sect had drawn the god’s attention even as a mortal; although back then he had only heard about them in stories. These days where he roamed as a smith had seen many interesting items brought to his doorstep but never did he think he’d receive an opportunity to handle one of the sect’s unusual weapons.

Turning it over in his hands he could tell the unorthodox cultivation style the fierce spirit required would weigh heavy on the human body. Once he’s finished repairing the weapon he would have to ask about it, but for now he had a weapon that needed tending to.

Having not expected anyone to dare get close enough to touch him Xie Lian paused in his step. He slowly turn around, his eyes cold under the crying laughing mask. 

He could feel a sort of power from the person. He was not the normal human. Doesn’t matter to him. 

With a yank he freed his wrist from the man’s grip. “Innocent?” Xie Lian gave a cold snort. “And who the hell are you to judge if a person is innocent or not?” He asked. 

“The man was part of the Xian Le kingdom and yet…He now cheers for kingdom of Yong An. The man is a traitor to his kingdom.” There was a hint of anger in Xie Lian’s voice. The anger was there and yet he didn’t kill the man. He side way glance as the man crawled out from the rubble and high tailed it out of there.

Ram gives a hefty snort and a glance over his shoulder, checking that the man is able to crawl from the rubble of his destroyed stall without too many difficulties. He’s relieved the person is alive and although he knows well enough he should be terrified of this person fitting the description of a Calamity he holds his ground.

There’s a cold but clear hurt in the masked man’s tone and Ram couldn’t help but feel concern.

“Doing what is required to survive doesn’t make one a traitor.” He follows up after a long period of silent thought. His hand finds his way to his own neck, the pain and taste of his own blood still too strong in his mind. Running away to survive and fight another day... adapting to survive under one’s ruler; these were things that were natural for humans.

Nymeyr couldn’t help but blink at the remark.

How.. Ironic.

But it could only be a coincidence and he simply decided to dismiss the feeling that had raised up from the bottom of his heart, his words having been silenced in his throat. Despite that small hiccup in his emotions, he still kept that gentle smile of his upon his lips- as if nothing had happened. Though, his brow had raised slightly once he noticed something out of the ordinary- the man’s tongue. Odd.

“My apologies, I’m not one that usually ah.. drinks. Though I suppose I could try some.” He half-replied, half-mused. The moon god even almost went to mention his ‘brother’ but stopped himself before it even happened. 

“How about you choose? I feel it would be rude of me to be picky while it’s someone else’s coin.”

“Something light, then!” 

Ram wastes no time in flagging down the man behind the counter and quickly rattles off an order for drinks - normal rice wine for himself and something fruit-based for his new companion - and a hearty side of meat buns.

This person, whoever he was, was far above the forge god in status; this much he could tell just by being near him. He was also incredibly good at hiding such, yet he was clearly no spirit or demon either. Well, whatever he was he was probably hiding it for a reason and because of that Ram chose to not press the subject.

“Returning ... such as child who came back when proved wrong?” 

Ram puzzles over the concept. Returning anywhere had never really been his own style either. Surely there might be people who would be happy to meet up with him again but he would leave those reunions to fate and fate alone.

Still, how much must this person have been hurting to feel that returning was worse than saying goodbye? A loner, or had they been hurt before?

“I feel both are palatable only when on your own terms.” To choose to come or go is much better than having one’s hand forced. He frowns slightly thinking back to his own exile before brushing away his misgivings with a smile.