Sail away now

Azalea made a clicking sound with her tongue, being annoyed by the process that she had to go through to make this certain weapon and the fact that it didn’t work out the way she wanted it to. It was a hard process and it wasn’t easy to do, but she had expected with the many lessons she had from her father that at least she would be good enough to properly do this by now. She refused to find another smith that could help her, although her thoughts slowly drifted to a certain blacksmith in Dawnmire that could probably help her. But no, she wanted to this herself! She clenched her teeth as her thought process made her lose control over the tools she held in her hands for a moment; the sharp tool dug itself into her skin and Azalea let out a yelp, to which she dropped the tools she was working with. She sighed in annoyance as blood started to drip out of a deep cut on the backside of her hand.

And to add more to her annoyance, of course there and then sounded the bell of her shop. Azalea carelessly wrapped a towel around her hand and walked through the front of the store. She thought she was sure that she had closed the shop, but apparently she had not. ”I don’t know if your eyes are still working alright, but the shop is kind of closed for the moment,” she spoke sarcastically, although a slight hint of humor was detectable in her voice. She didn’t want to scare off potential customers, after all. But she couldn’t help but point to the sign, which was saying “closed”, either. Then she leaned over the counter, still pressing the towel firmly against her bleeding hand, as she looked up at the man. ”What can I help you with?” she asked him in a more polite manner, giving him a smile.

@Ishir Walker

His scream mixed with a growl of pain as his fist made contact with the kitchen door. Pretending to like these people, to be like them, it took so much to hold his feelings inside until he was alone to let them out. It all built up until he had to do something or it consumed him. And so he’d kept everything in until now. And his poor kitchen door and hand had to pay the price for it. When he was calm enough to look at the damage he’d caused himself, he finally noticed the blood dripping from the cuts on his knuckles and the bruises that started to form.

Talking to Fae when he’d been in Dawnmire had been well for his mind and so--once he’d bandaged his hand and put on a pair of leather gloves--he left the house behind him to talk to someone else with whom he didn’t need to pretend to be everything he despised.

The shop was closed, but Ishir easily ignored the sign and opened the unlocked door. “Is that how you greet old friends?” he grinned as he stepped towards the counter. “Just here to visit,” he answered as she asked what she could help him with.

Azalea had to be honest here: she hadn’t paid much attention to who was standing in front of her after she had walked to the front of the shop. She was annoyed with herself to let herself slip up like this and the pain of her hand was distracting her as well. Her eyes widened when she saw the person standing in front of her, forgetting about all her frustrations for a moment. ”Ishir!” she brought out in a happy manner, quickly almost running around the counter so she could give him a hug. Although he was at least fifteen years older than her, they still got along pretty well. He had been there for her when her father passed away and maybe it was because he was older than her, but she always felt comforted in his presence, which made it easier to talk to him than most people of her own age.

She let go of him after letting herself be comforted by the hug for a few seconds and took a step back. She had pressed the towel firmly against her hand during the hug so surely no blood would stain his clothes. ”Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she spoke with a warm tone to her voice. ”Do you want something to drink?” She gestured for him to follow her, walking behind the counter and into the back of the shop, where she took her breaks. The shop was attached to a larger apartment; the section down was where she kept the shop and upstairs was where her actual home was. She had taken it all over from her father and because she had enough money, she was able to afford it. Which was a good thing, because she wouldn’t trade this for the world. ”How are you?” she asked him after she gestured for him to sit down. It would be good talking to an old friend.