saffron wind

[golden_anvil]

Not everyone walks calmly into the streets of the Nexus. Not everyone is so distracted as to not see when the stones shift and the shops and buildings aren’t quite the same. She’s staring down into a sketchbook in her hands and muttering to herself for a fair distance before it even occurs to her to look up. Light brown eyes peer out from a mess of dark curls pinned up around her shoulders. She purses her lips in some amount of confusion and looks to her left, her right, and finally turns about in a small circle.

This stocky stranger traces her gaze over the various buildings as she slowly closes the sketchbook and returns it to a satchel strung across her shoulder by a long strap. After a moment of taking in her surroundings, she nods quietly and sighs. She shifts two things strapped across her back and shoulders: a satchel bag and a large pole with one end wrapped up in cloth. In less than a minute, she has the bag slung around her shoulders and over her back in the style of a backpack. The pole finds it’s way into her hands, the covered end pointing upward as she turns in a slow circle.

“This is…different.” Her voice is soft and deep, but quickly taking on a worried tone. The pole rests in the crook of one arm as she gathers up her skirt to tie off around her waist. Her leather sandals gently hug her all the way up to her knees. “All right, I’ll bite. Who did I offend this time?”

Comments

[golden_anvil]

"I've traveled in is lands, met his worshipers, even said my share of prayers to him as a matter of respect." She smiles back and nods her head. "I know it's a bit silly not being sure if you were Thor or Loki, but not every god looks the way one would expect them to."

She uses her spear for balance to partially kneel before rising to her feet again. "Well met, Thor, son of Odin. I am Lysandra Kastaros, demi-daughter of Hephaestus. From Olympus to Asgard, it is my honor to meet you."

[pirateangelbaby]

"No, sometimes we don't," Thor agrees, still holding that awkward politeness, but with the sort of dignity one would expect from royalty. "I once met a boy who was quite put-out that my hair isn't red."

The kneeling is unexpected, but fortunately she decides to rise on her own before Thor has to decide how to respond to it. Besides, he suddenly has something much more important to concern himself with. "Hephaestus? I've met him." Absently, he clasps his living hand around his other wrist, a self-conscious gesture as if to soothe a sore joint. "He, uh, forged this arm for me. Prometheus called in a favor."

[golden_anvil]

"Red hair would be more for Loki, anyway, but any color is fit for a god's hair." She undoes some of the pins holding her hair up, shaking loose more curls. "Even Aphrodite changes the colors of her hair with every set of eyes who gaze upon her."

Her mouth falls open wordlessly. Her eyes dart between his hands. A kind of wildness grows in her expression, and she steps closer. "Father made you an arm... I know his work. I've mended it. Maintained it. Improved it now and then." She moves the spear to lock in the bend of one knee and pulls her bag back from on her back. She takes out the sketchbook and flips it open. There are diagrams and sketches on every side of every page. "With time and materials, I could be mechanicffor that arm. I might have even helped design part of it."

[pirateangelbaby]

"For Loki?" The surprise on his face is clear to see. It's odd to picture his brother with anything lighter than black hair, shapeshifter or not. But then, it has typically been Loki's wont to change himself entirely, rather than keeping parts of himself.

That looks on her face has Thor a little wary, especially once she steps closer. He doesn't quite take a step back, but he shifts his weight a little, prepared to cede ground if she tries to get grabby about it. It's happened before, on occasion. "Oh, er. That's very kind of you, but it shouldn't need it. Good for life, I'm told. I have not had any complaints about his craftsmanship, I can assure you."

[golden_anvil]

"Of course. Red hair, especially the ginger kind, belongs to people who are truly special."

Lysandra blinks and then shakes her head. The look in her eyes fades as she takes in Thor's change in stance. A blush stains her cheeks as she moves back the few steps she took towards Thor. "F-forgive me. I can't always help that part of myself. It's father's excitement contained in human flesh and it just...sparks." She sighs and smiles. "You'll never get a better arm than one my father made. I will too vouch for it's lifetime of service to you."

[pirateangelbaby]

Those broad shoulders relax a fraction, his one good eye still watching her, but with an easier smile on his lips. "It's all right. His forge is very impressive. Not as large as Nidavellir, but no less powerful for it, and his skill is undeniable. Even the dwarves I knew would be challenged to match it."

He pauses, and thinks that over, a lightly guilty look on his face as he adds, "Don't tell them I said that."

[golden_anvil]

She feels foolish and looks down slightly, hoping it will help get more of her composure back. She fiddles with a curled lock that fell over her shoulder. "That's father's work. He's made weapons, chariots, and all other kinds of things for my family. I don't think there's anything he can't make if given enough time. Every one of my siblings knows how to craft something."

She looks up and snorts with laughter. "I don't talk to enough dwarves to start such violence! Although, that would make for a hell of a competition, wouldn't it?"

[pirateangelbaby]

"It would have," Thor agrees, a little wistful. One of the ravens hops off his shoulder, climbing down the front of his hoodie, and he absently raises his arms to hold it like one might cradle an affectionate cat, lightly scratching fluffy neck feathers with his artificial hand. The fingers move as smoothly as flesh ones would, well articulated and gentle. "Perhaps if there's a Nidavellir out there in the Nexus somewhere that still stands, you could arrange such a contest. In my world, its days are at an end, unfortunately."

[golden_anvil]

Her expression softens a little to hear that the days of competitive crafting are over anywhere. What a misery to live in a world where one cannot see such sights such as Dwarven smithing in action! "That arm... Goodness, but he put a great deal of love into it. even your beautiful birds recognize it as a proper part of your form." She sighs. "I will find a forge here, come what may. You deserve to see the real deal at work."

[pirateangelbaby]

"Oh, I watched him forge it," Thor assures her. "I had to be there for the fitting, you see. The volcano was an interesting touch; Nidavellir was constructed around a neutron star, itself."

Her comments on his arm does make him close the fingers self-consciously, flexing the hand into a gentle fist. A part of him... yes, it is, isn't it. Not an entirely happy thought, but one that does not last long, as the raven in his arm complains and pecks at his hand to get him stroking those neck feathers again.

"So," Thor says, perhaps a hair too brightly, "are you meant to take over the family business, then?"

[golden_anvil]

"I should hope to inherit it! I'm his oldest daughter that he didn't forge with a goddess. I know that smithy of his like the details of the shield of Achilles. Whatever I see, whatever I can take apart, I can easily re-create with my own two hands."

It's a bit of a boast, but she also sincerely believes what she says. She puffs out her chest a little as she speaks.

"Moving toys are my favorite things to make. I could fill a whole desk with beautiful toys made entirely from scrap."

[pirateangelbaby]

She's certainly proud and self-assured, that much is clear. Thor certainly hopes she comes by it honestly, and he hasn't seen any reason to doubt that as of yet. Her boast brings a small smile to his face, a glint of interest in his eye. "Oh? What sort of toys do you craft?"