northclifflogs | [Open!] I'm New In Town!

WHO: Fíadh and whoever wants to meet her.
WHAT: Fíadh has arrived and taken over the blacksmith shoppe. Hope no one has issues with that.
WHEN: A few days after the Shepherds' fun.
WHERE: The Smithy
NOTES: Let's have a doozy!

Maybe it's the sound of clanging metal, or the plume of inky black smoke billowing from the chimney-top, but if someone was to come and take a look they'd find the blacksmith back open for business. But if they were expecting a different proprietor, they were about to get a shock. A shock in the form of a very tall woman with choppy blonde hair, currently scrubbing aggressively at a nasty rust stain spread across her anvil. Teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, it's a pure look of concentration and determination scrunched into her face.

At her feet is a decent-sized pack on its side, a few clothes and baubles spilling out to the floor. One might think she simply tossed it to the floor before immediately getting to work. But the second Fíadh saw this shop, and this rusted anvil, she knew she has to be the one to take care of it. That's just how she operates. Of course just barging in and taking over has never been the best way to ingratiate yourself upon a community, but Fíadh has never been very good at that. With any luck it will go over better here than the last few towns, but if not ... well, she'd burn that bridge when she crossed it.

Besides, when it comes down to it, she knows she won't stay here for long. She never does.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lance had already passed the smithy, and although they were clearly doing something, he hadn't wanted to interrupt-- but this means he's close enough to hear the crash, and the very rude shout, and he backtracks to look concernedly in on the pair. Ah, both the newcomers.

He says nothing, but his expression is inquisitive. anyone dead

He obligingly adjusts his grip even though it makes him bend his arms really weirdly and makes it harder to hold the whatever-it-is steady. Though it doesn't seem to need him to hold it at all. What's important is that she clearly knows what she's doing and he's helping! Faro drops down onto his knees as she leans more heavily on the chisel so she's got more room to lean.

It's a good fucking thing he did because there's a sudden crack and creak and then she's falling and turning and elbows him in the face. Hard. Right by his eye.

As Fíadh shouts something from the collapsed grindstone, Faro's laid out on the ground, groaning in pain and holding his face.

Everything's horrible. The world is a dark nightmare. She just elbowed a man in the face and it wasn't even because she wanted to. And on top of all of that, on top of every little stab of pain and prodding from broken bits in her backside, the watch captain is here. If Fíadh had her druthers she would burn this entire building to the ground now and start over.

But she can't.

So she regains what composure she can, rolling off of the remains of her grindstone and struggling to her feet. She tries to brush some dust from her blouse and finds she might just be adding more to it before pointedly clearing her throat and looking to Lance.

"... Captain."

She then turns to look over Farogil and a flicker of concern comes over her. He doesn't seem the type to get in scrapes too often, this is probably not a fun experience for him and he was truly trying to help.

"... I don't think you'll die."

There, real solid comforting words.

If nothing else, Lance doesn't look like he's about to arrest anyone.

"...everyone all right," he asks, looking between them, a little confused. He glances to the grindstone and purses his lips-- well, at least it's her own problem to solve.

Farogil forces himself to sit up about the time she clears her throat, and to pull his hands away from his face to check for blood. There's none, but he dabs around his eyebrow and temple a few times just to make sure.

"My eye," he fusses as he squints up at Fíadh, still rubbing at it like that would somehow help the pain. Faro's not mad, just... confused, stunned. Bewildered. He turns that pained squinting towards Lance and gives him a weak thumbs up.

Yeah, he's alright. Technically.

Fíadh hasn't actually taken the time yet to check over herself, it wasn't as important as everything else. But she definitely feels pain. So she takes a moment to inspect her person, checking her arms, legs, and running her hands over her back to-

A harsh intake of air slips through her teeth as she feels the stab in her lower back. Quickly she brings her hand back to find blood over her fingers. Wonderful. Twisting to get a better view she sees blood seeping through her blouse, and quickly pulling it up there's what appears to be some sort of puncture wound.

"Huh."

Well that's a problem. But one she can solve later. Slowly she lowers her shirt back down and turns to look at Farogil, who even with his poor blackened eye manages to give a thumbs up. In solidarity, Fíadh raises a bloody thumb in affirmation.

They're not intentionally killing each other, nobody's bleeding out, and no property is damaged that doesn't technically belong to either of them, so...
well, case closed.

With a quiet sigh through his nose, Lance gives a little nod and proceeds on his patrol. They're adults, they'll figure it out.

Faro's mostly focused on rubbing at his face as Fíadh checks herself over, until she winces. He looks up, eyes widening in alarm at the site of blood when she lifts her shirt.

And then lowers it, like she didn't just discover a hole in her back.

"Oh- you-" He points at her side as if somehow she didn't know where she's injured. Faro tries to get to his feet and finds he's a little too dizzy to make it all the way; kneeling is probably a better vantage point to see how bad the wound is anyway. "Turn, I'll llook."

Fíadh keeps her thumb up until she sees the captain leave before slowly lowering it and turning to Faro. It should be endearing how much he continues to want to help, but slowly this whole situation is wearing down her nerves. She raises a hand at him.

"It's fine. I've had worse." Well, probably, she can't really see it. But the fact that she's not writhing on the ground in agony also means she's likely not wrong.

She moves her raised hand behind her head and rubs her neck, looking over the wreckage. All of that for it to just ... become worse.

"... Look, it will be a while until I finish your work. I'll try and get it repaired as quick as I can. Just take your money back."

He frowns hard as she refuses his aid, then sighs and shrugs. It's not like he can force her to let him have a look. And it's not like he could do anything besides shove some cloth on it and run for the surgeon if it's really bad.

"Alright." Faro leans over to grab his basket -good thing they fell the other way and not onto it- then successfully makes it to his feet. A little wobbly and still feverishly blinking his bruised eye, but standing! His eyes light on the shears she finished and he smiles briefly. They look sharp!

"I can make do with these. Thank you. And-" He gives a nod towards the pile of debris, "Sorry."

She shrugs then quickly winces. All right, once Farogil is gone she'll have to take care of that. But, for now, she strides over to the table where he left his payment and grabs it before sauntering back and shoving it in his free hand.

"Next time I'll know better. Go."

Sorry Fíadh, he saw that wince. His brow furrows up some more and he gives her a pleading look as she thrusts his money back in his hand.

Oh well. If she's to handle it herself, he better get gone so she can get to it. So he nods, drops his money back in his basket, and hurries away.

[Open!] I'm New In Town!

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800 years later sorry

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