Spending money was not Levinia’s favorite thing but this time it was necessary. She sighed as she studied the broken instrument in her fingers. It had been given to her by her father when she left home and had taken care of it all this time, but it hit a bit of stubborn senew and broke. Blades as fine as her surgical tool were delicate things and it was one of her more treasured items. The white haired little doctor held the pieces up to her chest and allowed one tear to fall. She had already cried about it, there was no reason to come to more tears.
If there was anything good about Andaris it is this, that it is a huge city and competition for custom is fierce. Her father’s usual metalsmith was too expensive for her meager earnings but she had heard of a good blacksmith that would give her a fair price. She made her way to him, finding it easy to navigate the labyrinth that was Andaris and now stood outside the man’s shop.
The petite doctor made her way in and looked around. The sounds and smells of the shop hit her delicate senses and made her wrinkle her nose slightly. It was also hot in there, too hot for day in Ymiden, still she pressed on. Her clothing consisted of a sleeveless linen dress which would keep her cool during the heat of the day and she was glad of it.
The only person there was probably the person she was looking for and she approached him tentatively. “Vakhanor?” Levinia inquired, hoping her voice was strong enough to disturb whatever concentrated thought he was holding. Like most blacksmith he was a specimen of taut muscles but he also had the face of a handsome courtier yet a bit sad. “Are you he?”
Quietly sat in the low light of the forge Vakh chipped away at a block of wood. His attention drifting back and forth between the design of his knife and practice of crafting the lade her drew up plans to design later on that week. Business had been busy and he didn't have the time to mess around in the day, whatever he could get done before night fell he would, "Vakhanor?" a soft voice came from the door. He lifted his gaze and was graced by the presence of an elegant woman with long silver hair and brilliant sapphire eyes, what she lacked in height she made up for in posture.
"Yeah, I'm Vakhanor. What can I do for you?" he asked, carefully placing the half chisled knife onto the worktop. There was something odd about the way the customer knew his name that he found unsettling and paranoia started to kick in, was she a spy looking for something? It seemed unlikely his new employer would have told anyone his identity, much less this stranger and furthermore he lacked the friends to be heard of via word of mouth.
Suspicious of her the smith wandered over, staying in close reach of his longsword should she try anything funny. The Qe'dreki had seen his face, they'd the blood in his eyes when they'd had put an animal into a trap and he'd almost tried to kill them if not for Nivasi's intervention. Most men wouldn't hurt a woman, but if it came to life or death Vakhanor would gladly make them bleed. He had nothing left to loose.
Levinia was too distressed to notice the man’s suspicion. Instead, she showed him the broken pieces of her surgical tool, the one her father had gifted her, and broke into tears. She did not mean too and as she tried to stifle it, it became a little hiccup fit, “Please..hic...if you could..hic, fix this please...hic, kind sir.”
Her small hands trembled slightly causing the two little pieces to twinkle slightly under the light available. She took a deep breath, several of them until her hiccups calmed down then subsided. Levinia’s eyes were red rimmed and she felt like a fool, but she couldn’t help being sentimental over her first tool. She hoped that the man didn’t think she was a little twit and if he treated her thusly she would be angry.
Maybe.
At the moment, she needed him; and hope he wouldn’t charge her too much now that she showed how emotionally attached to it she was. “I cannot pay you much, sir.” Levinia continued with a sniffle, “...I am a doctor, perhaps we can trade services?” Her eyes flickered up, away from her tool and up to the man’s striking features. If she wasn’t so sad she would have appreciate them. For now, all she wanted from him was to fix her little tool.
Crying women were probably the bane of his existence. Silently taking the knife between his splintered fingertips, he inspected it to see the damage. In order to save it he'd have to carefully melt the steel together again and for such a small thing it was tricky work. Funds were a thing of consequence everybody had to pay for, he wasn't sure what this woman was playing at. A ton of women had come wandering into the shop crying and asking him to smith their stuff for free and more often than not he'd turned them down.
Vakhanor had little need of a doctor but given his work he may need on in the future and thus, reluctantly decided he'd pay for the steel for he repairs. Handing the knife back to her for but a moment he turned to walk into the back room, sifting through the small kitchen area to grab a flask and a clean rage from his pack, then returned and offered them to her "I'll do it. Keep your money," he murmured, mustering the best smile he could give her.
Pain clung in the smith's expression like an infection in an open wound, he felt neither sympathy nor pity for the girl and yet there was a part of him that couldn't bring himself to see her cry like that. Unfurling the knife from her delicate fingertips the smith smiled and picked up his pencil, beginning to trace the blade so he could make the mold and reforge it properly "Cheer up and grab yourself a bit of food, I'll be done in a break."
At first Levinia thought the man had refused her work order. She frowned and clutched the broken little tool in her hand and got ready to leave. However, he returned with a flask and offered to her. She took it, but looked up at him, the confusion clear on her face. Levinia opened the flask and took several sniffs to see what she had been given but it was just water. “Thank you.” She responded, her throat was raw from crying and gratefully drank. The water was cool and on a hot Ymiden day it was just the right thing.
When the blacksmith offered to fix it without pay she buckled slightly. Still she couldn’t be completely angry at his response, she did not want to ‘owe’ him. Some men would take advantage of that and she did not want to be in that position. “You mistake me, sir.” Levinia closed the flask and offered it back to him. “I have money to pay, just not that much.” She motioned to the tool in his hand with her delicate chin, “I know how much a tool like that costs. The obsidian ones are much more expensive.”
Levinia quickly dug into the leather pouch she usually carried and took out a couple of bottles of potion. MIstaking the pain on his face for physical pain she offered, “This one is good for inflammation of the muscles. If you take it before bed, with food, swollen muscles will be better in the morning. Its much better than hours of hot soak.” Her hand were still trembling causing the little glass bottle to tinkle slightly, a sound that was music to her own ears. “This one is for pain. Its not as potent as poppy but its just as good and not addictive. Also take it with food and it can be taken anytime of the day.”
With a sigh she offered her work and lifted her chin proudly. “We all are masters of our craft, kind sir, I would not ask you to starve,” She exaggerated a bit, she was certain her work wasn’t going to break the man, “....so please, accept these and a gold coin as payment?” Levinia’s lips pulled into an uncertain smile, she didn’t want to offend, but didn’t want to take advantage either. After all they were two people trying to make a living.
Coals cackled their dying protest from the settling warmth of the forge, dimly lighting the dark interior as the shadows hid the anger that lurked behind Vakhanor's eyes. Death had followed the man wherever he walked, only days ago he had decided to go to an event for the first time and an attack was made against the queen who now lay on her death bed. Dozens of Burhan men had surrounded him, seen his face and almost murdered him and now a fair haired, well spoken woman came into his shop offering drugs. Whoever had sent the woman, they'd sent a silver haired rabbit to a hell hound's lair. Just from looking at her garments it was easy enough to tell she did not belong there.
Caution was a fickle mistress and poison was a harsh death to will upon a man trying to make a living, was he really much more than that? Her promise of trade lay itself open in the palm of a fragrant and beautiful face, it was often the beautiful were the most deceitful. Laying down the knife atop of his anvil Vakhanor's old turquoise hues bore into the windows of her soul "I do not deal in drugs," the bitter scorn of his distrust seeped through the cracks of his voice "take the offer or leave. I will not be poisoned."
Healers normally knew better than to go out handing drugs to those who wouldn't necessarily use them for the right purpose. Neither in physical pain or looking for the relief, the smith took two short strides toward his workbench where his sword lay sharpened. If she moved against him, he would be ready for her.
"We would be naive to think ourselves masters," he said, sheathing the sword and stepping into the light where she could see the darkness in his expression "do not insult me or the owner of this shop."
Levinia had dealt with people like that, with an unusual fear of potions. She wouldn’t push them on him, if he didn’t want it. Slowly she put her precious potions back, they were worth money and therefore important to someone of her means.
"take the offer or leave. I will not be poisoned."
Normally, she would have balked angrily that her potions were not poisoned. Yet, she could not. Her sad blue eyes studied the man before him and whatever fears he had she couldn’t press his irrational fear with angry words.
’There’s something deeper there.’
Levinia tilted her head to one side and for a moment pondered on the reasons for his fears. What could have spurred it? Still, it wasn’t her business and she had come to him not the other way around. So she nodded and exhaled. “I’ll take the offer, of course. And I apologize. It's just that I take barter myself and thought you wouldn’t mind.” She lowered her head, “Forgive me.”
"We would be naive to think ourselves masters," he said, sheathing the sword and stepping into the light where she could see the darkness in his expression "do not insult me or the owner of this shop."
“You’re right.” She sat down on the nearest stool. Her shoulders crumbled and minimized her already diminutive size until she looked like a child. A willful child told to sit and be quiet. “I am no master, you are right.” Levinia sniffled, “I can’t even take care of an important instrument, or barter with my potions. I am nothing.” She pressed her hands against her face and began to weep feeling sorry for herself.
It seemed her life was storming away horribly. Her best friend was in trouble, she had no way of helping and now the one thing her father have given her lay broken by her hands. Worst of all, she had a sudden feeling of loneliness that was starting to claw at her. She hadn’t felt that before and now it was rearing its ugly head and Levinia had no idea how to cope. After all, studying could only get you so much, sometimes it was good to drop the books and scrolls and concentrate on actual living.
Her plea drove into him like a dagger, draining his inner paranoia as if she sought to carefully remove the bitterness that had festered in his chest. He had been wrong. Ashamed of his behaviour the half-blood felt stripped of his honour as he watched the delicate young woman shrink into a pit of sorrow, the same pit that he had been falling in for breaks.
Inhaling a deep, slow and calming breath Vakhanor allowed himself to relax, there was no glory in watching someone with their whole life ahead of them become discouraged at such a young age. Despite his desire to help her, crying women had never been his strong point. And so, the smith did what he knew how to and wandered over to her, lowering himself down beside her to gently cradle her in his arms in the same way he would have held Bjorn. “We’re what we make ourselves become,” he muttered softly, resting his head against her soft silver bed of hair.
Vakhanor had almost wanted to tell her he was sorry, yet the word never passed the barrier of his lips. In his eyes, sorry was such a weak word to say to someone. It never made up for the pain.
“Forgive me,” he echoed her words, hoping for the same kindness. An anxious idiot, the ghosts of his own life had caught up with him. What was working as the king’s executioner doing to him? The half-blood knew all those years ago that the day he had killed an innocent for no reason at all, that he was a changed man. Was this him yearning to go back to his old life? He was changing. For better or for worse he did not know. “I am a broken man; you do not deserve my scorn.”
Levinia found herself embraced in warm strong arms and for a moment she thought of her father, or her older brother. She did not push the warmth away but melted into it, needing above anything else the comfort. This man that she just met was kind enough to offer that human need to be comforted and she drank it in like a thirsty man in a desert would.
“Forgive me,” “I am a broken man; you do not deserve my scorn.”
“It's alright, kind sir.” Levinia patted the man’s strong forearm, “We all have our moments, trust me, I’m usually not a blubbering twit.” She gave a little chuckle, but her heart just wasn’t in it. Her eyes turned to him, he was close enough for her to see that the color of his eyes rivaled her own. He smelled of the fires he worked with and metal mixed with leather and usual sweat and she realized that she did not mind that at all. It was as intoxicating as the warmth of his arms and it made her feel better.
Her eyes lifted and fell on his own cerulean orbs and she had to admit that their sadness was apparent. Levinia had just been so wrapped up in her own misery to take note. She shifted slightly hoping he wouldn’t let go, even in the heat of Ymiden his warmth was not stifling. “I wish I could help you fix your break as easily as you can fix my surgery tool.” She sighed and put things into perspective. Here was someone that seemed to have worse problems than a broken tool and the inability to help a wayward friend. There was much more there and she wished she had a potion for it. Not that he’d take it, he had already made it clear that he did not like potions.
“Is there anything I can do to help as you’ve helped me?” She inquired, “Even if it is a listening ear.” Levinia smiled, warmly and for real this time, “They say I’m a very good listener.”
Vakhanor met the intensity of Levinia's sky tinted gae with a patient and collected stare. Scavenging the fragmented pieces of joy, the smith smiled at her and waited until she had relaxed to let go. "Yeah, you can do something. make sure you smile. You're a beautiful young woman with your whole life ahead of you. So I ask you to do the same thing as I did a dear friend of mine. Be free, do what you love and enjoy life and maybe then I can find a little shred of hope in you," he replied, unfurling his arms from around her delicate thin frame and wandered back toward the forge, quickly taking the bellow to relight the coals. "Quit trying to argue with me too!" he called over the loud sound, the corners of his mouth lifting into a wide cheeky grin as he turned his head over his shoulder to look back at her "You're at least ten arcs to early by the looks of you!" Vakhanor may have been a terrible liar, but he was a master in the art of burying feelings.
Suspicion had left Vakh and the malice that he had held drifted away, for reasons unknown to him he was enjoying the brief moment of company. Although, he could not help but notice that a lot of young women were hanging around him recently and he wondered why, they would usually avoid him.
"Think about yourself. I'm old enough and ugly enough to look after myself," he said, moving to the neatly lined selection of hammers that hung on the wall and picked up one of the smaller ones to work with. The little doctors tool hopefully wouldn't take too long to fix. Vakhanor would be unable to talk properly with Levinia when he started working, the noises were more often than not and he didn't want to risk anyone going too close to the forge or getting hurt and he wasn't anxious to get rid of the girl.