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Amaya Blackstone was having a bad day. Well, if she were honest, she was having a bad month. Everyone suspected they'd be in for a little bit of hardship with the death of the queen casting a dark shadow over the land, but no one could have expected it to have been this bad. No one came through Daventry anymore, the streets were empty, the armory too well stocked and under used to need her services much. The bridge trolls decided that they were suddenly on strike for better treatment, which meant it was difficult for anyone to get there even if they wanted to, and difficult to get out, too, especially if you were a wetzel wolf that decided to invade the forests. She had done her best to keep them at bay, but the shoddy work that the Hobblepots put into her lanterns meant she had another broken one before she even had much of chance to use them. And Wente. Zounds! Wente Fey and his blasted hugging it out. No, thank you!
And now she was having trouble getting the right balance on her latest dagger. She tossed it in her hand a few times, testing it out, realizing how wrong it was and just thudding it down into the table with a frustrated grunt. An errant draft shifted a pile of papers nearby, her work orders for the Crumbler...or the lack thereof. She sighed, reaching over to rifle through them and think about how the work just wasn't coming in.
As she flipped through the papers, something slipped out, falling onto the floor. Amaya paused to pick it up and grunted again. A flyer. That's right. When that ridiculous little Merchant of Miracles came around last week, he'd stuck them all under everyone's door, a flyer and a brochure for a place called Fandom Island. She'd dismissed it, of course, because the Merchant of Miracles was an obnoxious fool; she'd vowed that the only metal of hers he'd ever see was her hammer in his face, but the flyer spoke of a space for a shop, bigger than her current shop, it seemed, on a place where there was new traffic nearly every few months, a bigger population than any of the villages easily at reach...If she could even commission one piece or make one job with the Crumbler, then she'd already be ahead of what she was making here.
Her father never would have stuck around just because. He'd have no hesitation to move on, especially if there was an opportunity presenting itself.
But the Merchant...
Amaya sighed and and reached out to put a hand on the Crumbler as if for guideance. A puff of dust lifted into the air when her hand fell. And that was all she needed to convince herself to go back to the counter, pick up a quil, and start writing a letter in response.
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( And a wee tiny OOC note )
And now she was having trouble getting the right balance on her latest dagger. She tossed it in her hand a few times, testing it out, realizing how wrong it was and just thudding it down into the table with a frustrated grunt. An errant draft shifted a pile of papers nearby, her work orders for the Crumbler...or the lack thereof. She sighed, reaching over to rifle through them and think about how the work just wasn't coming in.
As she flipped through the papers, something slipped out, falling onto the floor. Amaya paused to pick it up and grunted again. A flyer. That's right. When that ridiculous little Merchant of Miracles came around last week, he'd stuck them all under everyone's door, a flyer and a brochure for a place called Fandom Island. She'd dismissed it, of course, because the Merchant of Miracles was an obnoxious fool; she'd vowed that the only metal of hers he'd ever see was her hammer in his face, but the flyer spoke of a space for a shop, bigger than her current shop, it seemed, on a place where there was new traffic nearly every few months, a bigger population than any of the villages easily at reach...If she could even commission one piece or make one job with the Crumbler, then she'd already be ahead of what she was making here.
Her father never would have stuck around just because. He'd have no hesitation to move on, especially if there was an opportunity presenting itself.
But the Merchant...
Amaya sighed and and reached out to put a hand on the Crumbler as if for guideance. A puff of dust lifted into the air when her hand fell. And that was all she needed to convince herself to go back to the counter, pick up a quil, and start writing a letter in response.
________________________________
( And a wee tiny OOC note )
