Frost 15th, 122
It was the first truly cold day, as far as Torin was concerned, cold enough for a good solid freeze accompanied by a good foot of snow at the least. Despite this, the smith was not, at that moment, feeling the cold in the least. Stretched out on the deep, comfortable fur rug that was spread before the fireplace in his large bedroom wearing not a stitch and more contented than he could remember having been.
His redheaded man was stretched out near by, and, far from chilled, they were both sweating a bit from activities that had come to their conclusion only some moments before. They would cool, and dry, in good time; and when they had cooled enough they could scoot back closer to the fire, and to each other, to warm back up as needed.
Flopping one arm over from where it had lain on his chest, Torin's hand found whatever part of Aurin was closest and came to rest there. They panted quietly for a while, content in each other's company, the younger drifting slightly, not to sleep, but just in the peace of haze of the glow that filled him after his master had. Time passed, he did not know how much. Eventually he realized that his mind had come back on and was going over some of his ideas for his craft with no urgency or real pull on him.
Rolling over from his back to his stomach and resting his head on his folded arms he looked over at Aurin and smiled. He had already explained to him about the cloaks, which would now not be a surprise for him, but they would already likely not be for Timon or Sivan. The two being around all the time when he was working, even if they did not fully know his craft, combined with how well they knew him, were likely to at least guess that he was, yet again, making presents. Aurin had agreed to help, and Timon had been recruited to find the best merchant for the large, very expensive fabric purchase, so he was already keen on knowing what it was for. The lad was known by many of the cities higher quality merchants, or at least those that provided higher quality goods that Torin used often; leather, metal of all kinds, fabric, and dragonshards. Despite being young, and looking younger, the lad had developed a reputation of being a hard bargainer who had the gold to back up his choices.
It was nice to have someone else that could be trusted to buy things of the quality needed for Runeforging. Torin did not particularly enjoy the type of conversation and debate that large purchases often required, but Timon appeared to thrive on it.
There was another idea that had come to him along with the cloaks, but he had put it aside because the cloaks would be more universally useful to his friends. The other idea might be useful for Aurin and his growing set of clandestinely inclined students though.
"I was thinking," He murmured, a little muffled where part of his mouth was pressed against one forearm, "Lightstep boots might be a good fit for your Whispers, and you, if you wanted." His attempt to hide his guilty smile at the pun failed magnificently, but he went on before Aurin could chastise him for it, explaining what the boots did in basic detail.
"With your negation we could make the sturdy, to protect little feet as well as big, and I could make them adjust to the wearer so the kids could grow into them. What do you think?"
It was the first truly cold day, as far as Torin was concerned, cold enough for a good solid freeze accompanied by a good foot of snow at the least. Despite this, the smith was not, at that moment, feeling the cold in the least. Stretched out on the deep, comfortable fur rug that was spread before the fireplace in his large bedroom wearing not a stitch and more contented than he could remember having been.
His redheaded man was stretched out near by, and, far from chilled, they were both sweating a bit from activities that had come to their conclusion only some moments before. They would cool, and dry, in good time; and when they had cooled enough they could scoot back closer to the fire, and to each other, to warm back up as needed.
Flopping one arm over from where it had lain on his chest, Torin's hand found whatever part of Aurin was closest and came to rest there. They panted quietly for a while, content in each other's company, the younger drifting slightly, not to sleep, but just in the peace of haze of the glow that filled him after his master had. Time passed, he did not know how much. Eventually he realized that his mind had come back on and was going over some of his ideas for his craft with no urgency or real pull on him.
Rolling over from his back to his stomach and resting his head on his folded arms he looked over at Aurin and smiled. He had already explained to him about the cloaks, which would now not be a surprise for him, but they would already likely not be for Timon or Sivan. The two being around all the time when he was working, even if they did not fully know his craft, combined with how well they knew him, were likely to at least guess that he was, yet again, making presents. Aurin had agreed to help, and Timon had been recruited to find the best merchant for the large, very expensive fabric purchase, so he was already keen on knowing what it was for. The lad was known by many of the cities higher quality merchants, or at least those that provided higher quality goods that Torin used often; leather, metal of all kinds, fabric, and dragonshards. Despite being young, and looking younger, the lad had developed a reputation of being a hard bargainer who had the gold to back up his choices.
It was nice to have someone else that could be trusted to buy things of the quality needed for Runeforging. Torin did not particularly enjoy the type of conversation and debate that large purchases often required, but Timon appeared to thrive on it.
There was another idea that had come to him along with the cloaks, but he had put it aside because the cloaks would be more universally useful to his friends. The other idea might be useful for Aurin and his growing set of clandestinely inclined students though.
"I was thinking," He murmured, a little muffled where part of his mouth was pressed against one forearm, "Lightstep boots might be a good fit for your Whispers, and you, if you wanted." His attempt to hide his guilty smile at the pun failed magnificently, but he went on before Aurin could chastise him for it, explaining what the boots did in basic detail.
"With your negation we could make the sturdy, to protect little feet as well as big, and I could make them adjust to the wearer so the kids could grow into them. What do you think?"