Legend of Ransera

To Sivan's mind, they worked well together already, and that would only improve with more time and experience with each other.

"I know they are... private people, but perhaps you ought to take me to Starfall and we can interview a couple of people. Unless you think we should bring outsiders into the valley." He didn't know how he felt about the word outsiders, but he didn't want to offend Torin's people, either.

In any case, they were soon noodling about with the idea, and soon enough, they separated so as to act as separate cogs in the same machine. Sivan paused for a moment to appreciate the play of muscles under skin on Torin's forearms, smiled softly to himself, and then procured one of Torin's dragonshards so he could start inscribing the proper pictography to form the golem's core. He had aether wells aplenty back at the Forge, both lures and shrouds, but the core would be all the more specialized.

It was delicate work; dragonshards could be volatile. Thankfully, he had experience with this. The process might be easier for Torin as his fine work with geomancy allowed him to alter the dragonshard without weakening the structure such that it got... angry. Geb was there, though, whispering to the dragonshard to keep it calm, and Exael would throw himself between Sivan and a dangerous magical reaction if he had to.

At regular intervals, Sivan rested his eyes and his hands, looking over the schema to keep it fresh in his mind, and looking over at Torin to see how the anatomy of the unborn golem was coming along. He smiled. It was a happy place to be, co-creating with his friend, warm, comfortable, and buffered from the considerations of the world outside.

"How is it going?" he called softly. Sometimes his words didn't register on Torin when the man was in the flow of his work, but that wouldn't matter. One of them would hopefully acknowledge their belly when the time came to eat.

The elf had thought that the settlers were from the environs of Starfall given how secretive its people were, but when he had spoken to them, they had all been more focused on the present and the future than the past. He was happy enough with that, not truly wanting to regale them with stories for Dalquia and Sol'valen, which he would either have to embellish to make better than they were or disappoint them. Working for Master Jacen had helped him get over some of his reticence around other people, but he was still quite introverted if not with his few and favorite.

In any case, Aurin's weather wards, the valley's Gritaeri, and other efforts had kept the weather warm enough. Once the golem was complete, though, he would cast some glass panes so the villagers could cut out proper windows and seal them. They could have some glass for building until they had a glassblower of their own. Sivan assumed the right person would come along at the right time. Everything seemed to work out for Torin in that way.

A glassblower with so few families to supply would likely do a bit of gardening of their own, if not farming. And perhaps they would take to artistry as well as artisanry; that fit with his elven upbringing. People in Sol'Valen didn't truly want for things. They worked, but there was plenty, and the plenty was shared. So craftsman were often artists, as well, whether professionally or for their own enjoyment. Merchants were musicians, and such like.

One thread of his consciousness focused on his work. Another thread considered what alchemical formulae brought into the glass making process might make the result more resistant to heat exchange, more durable against storms but not impervious to a good kick if someone needed to escape a burning building. And yet another thread was distracted by an erotic thought from Torin at his forge. Perhaps that was what prompted his rest, and then Torin was massaging his hand with his own hands, tickling it with his lips.

It was often thus: work flowed into play flowed into sex flowed into joking. The only constant in life was change, but their changeable moods were comfortable.

Sivan grinned and rubbed at his forehead as he had seen humans do, deferential to some lord or person of affluence. "Begging your pardon, my Lord Kilvin..."

He laughed, then nodded. "I can help with the pour, or hold them, as you prefer."

But he stood up, not pulling his hand out of Torin's. He stepped close, and he kissed a particularly soft part of Torin's neck. The man was Fire and Metal, but parts of him were so soft and gentle... Sivan tried not to let that arouse him. There was work to be done.

"I would like that," he said softly. "Perhaps I will shed my skin and go make the acquaintance of some of your wilder neighbors. I can sense Wolf and Bear in the valley, even managed to fix a little space where the climate remains friendly to Dragonfly. I ought to introduce myself to them, the better to prevent any problems with your people." He smiled.

It would be good to greet the spirits, too, greater and lesser. The greater ones often had more gravitas, more need for regular acknowledgement and respect if one was going to work with them. The lesser ones had a tendency to forget without a fair amount of repetition.

He didn't bother to let an errant thought slip from his mind into Torin's, of letting the temperature drop wherever they camped so that Torin would need to hold him close. Never mind he could conjure Fire now. That was not how these games were played when the golden boys played.

The elf let Torin pull him toward the forge, then rested his hands on Torin's broad shoulders while the master smith arrayed him in the proper attire for the work. It was intimate, but now they were working, so he didn't let things linger overlong, instead flexing his fingers within the gloves and taking the tongs so he could pour the molds. This was truly the extent of his blacksmithing abilities, and most of that was just dovetailed from his limited glassblowing skills. But when Torin was busy and he needed clockwork bits and bobs, it behooved him to help and minimize the time he required of the forgemaster.

When they were done and moved toward the work table, he removed his gloves and set them in their place, though he forgot to remove his leather apron. His work space was impeccable. It had to be. The more complicated his work became, the more stray factors could corrupt the results. But he finished off the core in due time. He held it up for Torin to semble as he responded.

"I am not a master myself," he reminded Torin. "I can connect core to aether well to overbody, making it... hm... complex enough for more intelligence than a toy. I will have to work on a voice box, but it will be able to speak if I'm clever about it. Have to work on senses, as well. I'm not quite masterful enough to fashion an overbody that has enough substance to hold a rune, but when I can, my golems will just semble their way around the world. Oh, but, ah... to answer your actual question, no. It won't truly be... hm, intelligent enough? Self-aware enough? To get bored, I mean. It will want to do menial chores because that will be part of its purpose."

Sivan sensed something a touch off, but Torin corrected himself and, rather than question that, Sivan let it go. They had developed a knack for such knowing, knowing when the other needed intervention or merely space to do the things that needed doing.

"If your people follow your lead and respect the natural order of things, then they can be incorporated into it in ways that are lost to city-dwellers," he averred. "With me able to communicate directly to the genius of the valley, as well as a couple of the spirits of the predators, you all ought to have it in the bag. Assuming they have the steel in their bones not to lose their heads if they see a wolf or a bear, and remember that even if they respect a peace, that doesn't necessarily mean they want people wandering into their dens or interfereing with their meals."

But he smiled. He wasn't chastising, but reminding the city boy about the natural order of things beyond walls of stone or palisades of wood, even.

"We shall," he promised, and while Torin returned to his work on the body of their joint creation, Sivan began to whisper into its blank mind the forms that would help it achieve at least the bare minimum of sentience. This creature wouldn't be complete today, but major strides would have been taken in its creation. The aether wells that would help bind Torin's work together, to support the overbody, were still back at the forge in Kalzasi. But they were maximizing their productivity all the same. Certainly, before Ash began, they would have a helper in the foundry. It would keep things tidy, knowing where things ought to go when the work of the day was done. With any luck, the next one would be able to help more with the actual processes of their creations. And when he could create a golem who could hold a Cardinal Rune of magic, he would be one step closer to unraveling the mystery of IX's dormant state, and he wanted that.

IX and Flower were two people he felt as though he had failed. Flower had made progress, but had eventually gone back into the Living Grave. But perhaps IX, at least, could be revived. He did miss his mechanical friend.

Points: 10 each, may be used for Semblance or Artificing for either character, and Elementalism for Torin.

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: +1 Small sized Golem helper once the price for the materials costs has been paid and the correct time has passed.

Notes: Tiny Helper Incoming!

Mod XP: None