[Flashback] Sweaty, Greasy Girls are SEXY (Vondra)

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

35th Day of Autumn, 511 AV Tock was exhausted. She'd slept all day yesterday. Other than getting up briefly to eat, pee, or jump in a canal for a bit of refreshment from her aches and sweat, she had just stayed in bed all day. She was sore, and she was tired. But it was a good kind of tired. She walked into the Defiled Blade today, stretching and yawning and feeling good about herself. Her exhaustion was one of productivity. Of creation. It felt good to be sore, when she knew she was making something, something tangible and skillfully made, in exchange for this pain. It was becoming a bit of a familiar ache, after the last week, though she was far from the point that she'd really be used to it. Gondanir, her Isur supervisor, handed her an iron rod when she entered. Always one to cut straight to the point instead of wasting time on small talk, he said, "Try this yourself today. Similar to the horseshoes. I will watch and correct." He stepped up to one anvil and left her to work at the adjacent one, beginning work on a more complex project of his own while she started on one more fitting for an apprentice. There was a sample of what she needed to make, so she simply had to duplicate the design. It was a broad hook-shaped head mounted atop a wooden pole, the end of the hook having a pointed tip. It reminded her of a Shepherd's pole, for hooking and pulling sheep back into the herd. The durable iron head and pointed tip made her think this one was designed for wrangling slaves. The point wasn't sharp enough to look lethal, but the way it was angled looked like it would surely be painful if someone hooked this around your body and dug the tip into your ribs. Forging the curve of the hook would indeed use a process similar to making horseshoes, though the pointed tip would be a bit different, as would the attachment for the handle. She'd start with the curve first, since she was already familiar with that process. Cotton bandana holding back her red hair, sleeves rolled up and shirt flaps tied in a knot under her breasts to expose a toned midriff, she set to work. She used a long pair of tongs to set the iron into the fire, and started shoveling coal to maintain the heat. She was becoming quite familiar with this particular soreness, her back getting a twinge early on from the repeated strain of the shoveling motion. She focused on breathing evenly, in through the nose, out through the mouth, keeping a steady pace. Sweat graced her firm skin, and a swipe of her arm across her forehead smeared coal dust along her face. By the time the iron was glowing the right shade of orange for forging, she had worked up a good, energetic heat in her body. She wore a small smile on her lips when she pulled the iron from the heat and set it to the anvil. Heavy swings of the hammer slowly bent the glowing iron around the curved horn. Sparks flew, singing her skin a bit, as she used her own raw power and determination to reshape the metal according to her will. Every few strikes, she adjusted the position of the iron against the horn, slowly but steadily bending it into the desired curve. Her eyes reflected the glow of the metal as she carefully watched each bend, adjusting her angle here and there to keep the iron from warping and becoming misshapen. Bending iron by the strength of her own arms made her feel powerful. Each bead of sweat on her grease-stained face was a mark of creation. She felt flushed with heat and energy, with power and stamina. She felt good.

[Vondra Valencia]

The bruises had only begun to fade and she had only just been allowed back outside. Before she had been locked in her room by her mama and forcible told by her doctor to do nothing but lay in bed and breath. A bit of an overzealous practice session that had spun far out of her control, her only salvation had been that she was unconscious so the blows hadn’t been felt right away and struggling hadn’t made it worse. Well, that and her ‘friend’ was so drunk one hit with a stool and he had been out cold alongside Vondra. Twisting her hair idly and tying it once more into a knot that would no doubt fall out she carefully smoothed her skirt and tugged at her guides hand. “Matt! Stop going so fast, how am I supposed to enjoy it if I can’t dawdle?” “You can’t enjoy it at all.” he muttered and she knew he was ignoring the way her nails dug into his flesh in irritation. He was just as cranky with her as her mama had been. But it wasn’t that bad. At least not from what she could feel. It had almost been enjoyable. The parts where she was awake at least. But the sound of other people pleased her and she wasn’t one to go long without company. The thought of it made her anxious, she needed to be out and doing…something. Though her mama had banned her from practice for a while and there was no doubt her little guard would rat her out in less than half a chime. “You know…if I had a weapon I could probably protect myself better.” A grunt was her only response and she found herself being lightly pulled in another direction, a grin lighting her face. He would be happier now, for the most part then she could buy him a snack of some sort and all would be forgiven. Though it wasn’t until she felt him irritably tugging her away from whoever she had struck up a conversation with that she recognized the clanging of metal. It was a constant sound that rang in her ears in a near painful manner but she only smiled and walked forward her hands reaching out both to grasp at whatever counter would be there and to stop her from running straight into the counter. Running her hands over it she tried to make it seem as if she was stalling on purpose even though she was only waiting for her little helper to make a purchase. Yet, there was no reassuring hand on her back and she realized all would not be forgiven so easily because he had left her at the blacksmiths. “Petch it all.”

[Minerva Agatha Zipporah]

Once she had the curve of the hook completed, under Gondanir's directions and guidance, Tock returned the metal to the heat, setting just the tip among the flames for now. Once it had a healthy glow again, she took it out and held it with the tongs against the anvil, keeping it at an angle to the flat surface. She began pounding on the tip, shaping the metal into a point, narrowing the width a bit while lengthening the tip. She adjusted the angle again and again to shape it evenly from all sides, until it was evenly shaped. Then for a moment she set the hammer aside and scraped the metal back and forth on the anvil, holding it both by the tongs and with her hand on the cold end. The rubbing motion smoothed out and sharpened the point, a process which which would be finished with cold filing later. Then she flipped the hook around and set the other end into the fire. Once it was heated, she set it in a clamp with the end sticking straight up. She took a punching tool with a round metal head and placed it right against the end of the iron, and began pounding into it. It was a slow process, and she had to pause now and then as the metal was warped, laying it back on the anvil to strike it from the sides and maintain the shape. The piece went back into the heat regularly, as she slowly drive the punching tool into it longways. The metal spread around the tool, creating a depression that eventually ran several inches deep. It took care to make sure the metal around the depression didn't split, and she needed some guidance from Gondanir along the way. The handle had to be regularly adjusted to maintain its shape, set against the anvil and rotated as she struck it from each side, being careful not to strike hard enough to collapse the depression inside. Once it was sufficiently deep, which was a lengthy process due to the care involved, she switched to a thicker punching tool, and repeated the process to widen the depression further. She continued until it was wide enough that a wooden pole would be able to fit inside. Then once the process was complete, she used a smaller puncher to cut out several small nail holes in the side. Later, once the tool cooled and was filed and scrubbed down, it could be fixed onto a pole and nailed in place. As she was setting it aside to cool, Tock happened to glance up, and see a familiar face. The girl she had kissed the other day. What was 'er name...? She couldn't quite remember. But she could never forget the kiss. Smiling, she told the Isur, "Oy, Bossman... break time..." She hurried over before her supervisor could protest. She quietly snuck up behind the blind girl, slipping her gloved hands around her waist and pulling her close. She then pressed her lips against the girl's ear and said, "Hi." Eager for a repeat of the other day, and completely oblivious to the fact that she was covered in sweat, grime, and iron shards, she kissed along the girl's cheek and jawline from behind, reaching up to tilt the girl's mouth towards hers. She didn't have a single thought of romance, or any consideration of 'what this was,' 'whether they were together,' or anything like that. Just then, she just wanted to taste those lips again...