Contributing to the Pile || Open

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Edmund had a rather successful day in his mind. He had trained, hit targets, sparred, and then finished a sword he had been working on. Pretty productive. Then again, that was his usual schedule. Just throw in eating and sleeping. Barely. Then again, everything in this camp revolved around training. Not that he minded, the rigorous, strict schedule had grown on him after a while. It had given him some stability, if nothing else. Something to get his mind off of... Fighting had always been in his blood, so why not nurture it a bit? At least he was good enough to not get landed in the infirmary. An involuntary shiver went through his system. He never wanted to see another infirmary like place ever again. Of course, he had been landed it in throughout his first few years at camp, but he did try to avoid it at all all costs now a days. He gave his sword one last, careful inspection before adding it to the rack of newly made, ready to go weapons. This was Camp Juniper... where weapons were as demanded as food. Alright, maybe not as demanded... but almost as necessary. Gods only knew how many weapons he fixed in a week...

Oh well, whatever. He guessed it was part of "his contribute to Roman society/Camp" that came with being the child of the forge. Ode to joy. Edmund sighed, looking around him and taking a mental count. He checked if there was anything that needed to be restocked, remade, or repaired. 1/4 of this place was kind of a dumping ground for projects that campers, Vulcan or otherwise, had discarded. One never knew what he or she would find in there. Heck, after six years, Ed was still finding various nicknacks. His eyes flickered over to the shield pile. Guess that's what he was going to do next. Whatever was needed, he'd do; he most certainly had the time outside of training... since he wasn't much of a "socializer". He had no idea why anyone would want to be in this camp. It was filled with crazy people. He was probably one of them, although he liked to think that he had kept some of his sanity. Ed exhaled slightly, looking along the walls of weapons. He should probably stock up on a backup dagger or something... projectiles. Not his strongest suit, but a skill that he had been working on steadily over the years. He looked over towards the dagger rack and took one in his hand, weighing it carefully.

OOC: First post as him! Whooo
Gotta warn you, the first week is the awkward "get to know him" as a creator phase...
IC: 432

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Fighting and the legion was pretty much all Rhiannon had, and she had nothing to complain about for it. She had good friends, and they were only people whom she did not have to watch their backs. Strong willed, good fighters where the only ones she wanted to be friends with. Never again did she want to be betrayed by people, and she did not want to have to make the choice to stand and fight for a weak person, or run. In reality she did not trust herself with helping people either, because she saw all humans as having been born with an awful side. She knew she had one, and she knew everyone else did too. Rhiannon was not too fond of the though that everyone had a good side, but she did believe whatever they showed was only the tip of the ice berg. Often she only thought it got darker, and more sinister the deeper you went, though it was not always true.

This time her focus on fighting lead to her breaking more than a sweat, her sword was cracked and her shield dented. The straps that held her shield to her arm were torn, and the leather had not been properly maintained. Rhiannon was upset with herself for neglecting it, if it had been a real battle she may have been dead for it. Taking both items along with her fox she went to the forges. The idea of armor, or weapons for her familiar was something she had toyed with recently, though she was not sure how to go about it. She would love to make armor that bestowed her spells automatically also, but that was more for her to work on outside of peoples prying eyes. This would also require some extra pieces that weren't needed. The number of campers needing weapons and armor always seemed too high to ask for extra's though.

There was someone by the work-in-progress pile, that it seemed like maintained a steady heap no matter how much she had seen been taken out of it to be worked on. “Hey,” Rhiannon tossed her things on the table “Do you have replacements for these? I'd also like to discuss armor for my familiar.” Rhiannon did not particularly care who it was she was talking to, but she tried to sound polite and made sure to enunciate her words correctly. It took a moment for her to recognize the person behind the table, and it was not someone she recognized pleasantly. Someone she did not talk to, so she would normally not judge him as anything less than some other annoying human, but he was a rude insensitive creeper who stared at people from his forge window until they became uncomfortable.

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Edmund took the blade in his hand, continuing to weigh it. The dagger seemed like a fair weight in his hand. To really test it, Edmund flipped it in his hand and then threw it across his left, stabbing the wall. It hit right in between the wall crack. Edmund was semi surprised; he had never really used throwing daggers before, but he had thrown plenty of houses and grandfather clocks into the fire. Maybe he had been getting semi good at throwing projectile without even noticing it. The sixteen year old walked over to retrieve his new dagger and then sheathed it before walking back to the wall of daggers. Perhaps he should make a bullseye target for the walls in here, for projectile weapon purposes. That way, Campers could test their dagger or arrow of choice while still in the armory. At least there they could easily get into contact with a forger if they needed small tweaks to be made.

And right on that note: cue someone coming in. Probably a camper who needed to a new weapon or something. Edmund wasn't sure how this translated, but the armory also became the dumping ground for unwanted/broken war items. The campers probably thought the forge would mend them. In the case with Edmund, they were probably right. Unless they came into the forge for a specific fix and say they wanted back, Edmund considered their discarded weapons in the armory as public camp property. He'd do whatever he had to do to fix them, and then put them back into the "weaponry up for grabs" pile. His gaze went around the semi-organized forge. The dumping wall/table, the work in progress table, and then weaponry up for grabs all over the room. He hoped it was easy to follow and that people actually followed it, he had spent a month of late nights trying to reorganize it.

"Hi," he responded curtly at the female sounding greeting. His head turned as he heard the camper dump the weapons on the WIP table. As he saw her, he connected face to voice to person almost immediately: Warlow. She had been at camp longer than he had, plus he had seen her in the commons on a few occasions. She wanted replacements. So she was dumping the stuff. "I'd hope so," he said, in his usual flat voice, nodding around the entire armory that was stocked with weapons along the wall and even more in various containers/long buckets. "If you're dumping those, they go there," he directed, nodding over at the dumping table. It was full, on the table and under, of broken things. Things that he intended to fix/restore at one time or another. And armor. He slightly raised his eyes brows. "For your familiar?" he asked. Was that a fancy way of asking "for myself"? Well, whichever it was: "Standard or custom?" he asked, looking at her with his dark, emotionless eyes and taking out a small notebook.

OOC: Hope that was okay!
IC: 507

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“Tch, I was hoping for someone civil. I know there are plenty of weapons here, but that doesn't mean it will be a good replacement. Shape, balance, all of it contributes to a good replacement.” Rhiannon wanted to go into further deltail, like the fact he should more easily be able to fine a good replacement but decided to save her time and energy on actually look for her replacement. It might take longer than she had wanted. Sighing she tossed her things in the correct pile before going over to a promising looking wall and began picking up the swords, weigh them in her hands.

“Well it would have to be custom, I don't see how a fox has standard armor.” she said nonchalantly as she went through several swords. None of them seemed to be the correct balance for what she had found to be her perfect fit. She wished she had taken better care not to damage her sword, it was perfect for her. The hilt did not dig into her hand, the grip was just right, everything about that sword screamed it was made for her. Testing the other swords made it painfully obvious, and she was starting to get annoyed at them. She began to spend less and less time with each weapon, and her movement became quick and aggressive. “None of these feel right, I don't like going without a weapon but if this is how it's going to be I'd rather wait for mine to be repaired.” she mumbled to herself.

No matter how annoyed she got Rhiannon always treated the weapons with care, placing them back in the exact place she had pulled them from. She moved on to the shields, which was supposed to be an easier task. Unlike her sword she had not found something just for her, and the shields while some where decent enough she also wanted something Inek could pick up with her straighten spell. Looking around the room one shield caught her eye, it looked about the right size and seemed to be made from a different metal. Picking it up it seemed light for it's bulk, and still very stirdy. She wondered how this had stayed here without someone else picking it up. Sure the arm band was small, but any female or young male could have fit it. The edges had a nice sharpness to them so she wouldn't cut herself yet it wouls still tear pretty nicely when the right amount of force was applied. Rhiannon could imagine a better fit. “Hey what metal is this?” she asked happily “Can a sword be fashioned from this? Or two? I might actually be able to get some duel wielding with something light like this.” she sounded so excited about weaponry despite being a child of Trivia, goddess of magic.

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Someone civl?! Pfft. This was Edmund being civil: emotionless face, monotone voice, attitude and all. Then again, if Warlow didn't think so, it wasn't his problem. He wasn't changing to faze people. His fingers drummed against his long pants; Warlow didn't need to tell him that. She was the one looking for a replacement, not a fix. If she was so concerned about keeping her right weapon, then she'd go in for a fix instead. He decided to ignore the female's remarks and just leave her to peruse all the weapons. A camper could easily spend a couple of days looking for the right match. He had been lucky when it came to the daggers. Then again, he had handled them enough to know their basic feel... and had probably forged near to a quarter of them. The sixteen year old moved over towards the WIP table and started to sort though some of the things. Next job: miscellaneous from weapons.

Custom... for a fox. Fox being a familiar...? "Fair," the dark headed boy said. Okay then, whatever. "You'll have to bring the fox in for measurements," he continued flatly, putting his notebook down. Armor for an animal. He thought he'd never see the day when he'd have to do that. He turned back to the WIP table and continued sorting. There were a lot of projects... most likely Vulcan kids; then there were equal numbers of weapons: probably those that other demigods had tried making, but had then given up. He'd probably try to finish the weapons. The other projects... he wasn't sure what to do. Dismantle and try to reuse the pieces? He wasn't sure of their original intentions and the original intention was always better than what the second person had in mind. No one had come back for most of these projects in months; besides, if they went on the WIP bench (or really any spot in the armory), they were considered public camp property to anyone who cared. He heard something muttered from Warlow, but ignored it, even though he could hear it. If she wanted it to count as important, she would have spoken up.

He didn't know how much time had passed. How many items he had sorted, but as the minutes slipped by he heard swords getting taken on and off off the racks. The more time that went by, the quicker it seemed that the swords went on and off. Sounded like Warlow was becoming slightly agitated that she couldn't find the right weapon fast. Ah well, not his problem. After a while, the picking up of swords stopped. It seemed as if Warlow had decided to move onto the shields. Apparently the shields made more for her liking. As she spoke up, he looked over at the shield she had chosen. It had been there for quite a while. "That's imperial gold," he said, identifying the rather rare metal with ease. Edmund looked at her, contemplating as she asked about making a sword, possibly even two, out of it. "Not unless you want me to melt the shield and remake it into a sword."

IC: 550

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The shield seemed to fit her arm well, and she doubted anyone could make such a fine piece as of now. It was nicely ornate without actually being overly so, the pattern and everything about it was perfect. Though she wondered if it was simply her perfect balance of if it mattered very much with shield in the first place, as long as they were balanced. It simply sat on your arm after all. Rhiannon frowned when she heard the only was to fashion a sword from the same materials would require the shield to be melt down. That was not something she was willing to do, because if she did not like the swords the shield would never be put back the way it is now. She gave it a bit more thought though, since she did feel it was a waste to let such a light sturdy metal be only a shield. To turn it into two swords would be a bigger waste, and since it was the shield perhaps being the stronger metal would be better.

After mulling it over in her head for a short while Rhiannon felt she should give a conclusion to the other person in the forge, the one who had suggested it in the first place. “I think I'd rather leave it as a shield.” she stated and she secured the new found possession to her back. It gave her new vigor to search for a sword, perhaps something even better than her old sword. Rhiannon decided to start right back where she ended and began testing swords with a new enjoyment.

“Is there anyway you could allow room in my familiar's armor for sudden extra bulk?” Rhiannon asked aloud as she moved from one sword to the next, testing them in each hand. She thought it might do her well to find something for her left hand other than a shield. She had taken the challenge from Zidane after all, but ever the swords that seemed light and easy to use in her right hand, were clumsy and oaf-ish in her left. Rhiannon thought it might be better to start with something smaller, perhaps a dagger in her left hand instead of a short sword. She had the lovely well balanced blade from Mars sitting in her room lonely and abandoned, for now. She smiled, that was going to be her left hand weapon.

Rhiannon looked at the boy huddled at his work bench, grinding away at the ever large pile of miscellaneous junk. “Doesn't that ever get boring? Sitting there tinkering with things all day?” Rhiannon was not a fan of sitting still in the first place, unless it was with a good book, then the day could pass to night until she realized she hadn't eaten in 12 hours and it was almost lights out. She wondered if this hobby of his was somewhat like that, or he was just here because he didn't like the outdoors.

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Edmund gave another curt nod as Warlow said that she'd rather keep it a shield. "Fair." Besides, he kind of preferred it better as a shield. Whoever had made that had good craftsmanship, no doubt on that. No reason to wreck it for a potentially inferior sword. Soon after, the sword picking up began again. Perhaps having success in finding something gave her renewed want to complete the defense/offense set. At any rate, Edmund continued his unending sorting. Every now and again, he'd stop to inspect a project: roll it around in his hands, flip it over, try to figure out how it would have worked if it had been completed. A broken clock, (one of the bigger scaled ones; he just made small scale models), weirdly shaped metal tubes, small carvings of unfinished...what have you (it was too incomplete to really tell what it was supposed to be), and then all the weapons. Daggers, swords, shields, arrows, various pieces of armor, hammers... the list went on and on. Slowly, the WIP weapons pile was starting to outnumber the miscellaneous. Dear gods, how many demigods gave up on making a weapon these days?

He turned around again, studying her and considering as she asked if it could allow for sudden growth. Fox... animal... and he didn't know anything about their anatomy. Nothing on how fast they grew or their body proportions. "For the first one, no," he said curtly. The first one would more be like a trial run to see if he could even make a decent animal armor. He wouldn't try for extra bulk until he got used to the animal's anatomy. One way trip to the library here he came. Joy. He would have thought, after all his animal transformations, that he'd know some basic animal anatomy, but he didn't. He didn't stay in them long enough to watch/feel them grow up, fortunately (plus, he hadn't been turned into a fox... yet).

"No. It's better than being with people," Edmund returned flatly. The sixteen year old had infinite patience for objects; zero for people. Besides, tinkering and smithing and crafting were probably one of the few things that could make him "happy" (or as close to happy as Edmund Simons could get). Usually, he couldn't stay still for his life, but put metal, wood, or crafting tools in his hands, and he'd stay put for hours on end. All demigods were like that in some sense. It was what his mother had called "selective ADHD". They'd sit still for things they really enjoyed, but other than that, were bouncing off the walls and fidgeting all the time. Edmund was one of those fidgeters when he didn't have something in his hands. It would happen especially when he was around a lot of people (a lot of people for him was more than one); that's when he'd fidget with the thing in his hands.

OOC: Ugh sorry for the wait and for Ed's attitude >.<
IC: 505

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Edmund's statement confused her for a moment, the first one? She could not imagine why there would be more, until the idea came he might be speaking of a prototype. She never really considered that to be the first attempt, but it might take a few more to get it right. Rhiannon had asked for it, but she wondered if he would give her something uncompleted. It was an annoying thought, but she had never known the boy to do any such thing despite his sour disposition towards people. He was one of the best artisans she knew, and even if he was the best she was not willing to say or even think it. She snuck a few glances in his direction, admiring how he could work on such small intricate projects as well as swords and shields where someone needed to pay more attention to the over all piece then the details. “I don't expect the first to be perfect, so no worries. It is a favor after all.” She said as she went back to what she was doing. There were far too many swords for her to look through, even as Edmund added them to the pile.

Rhiannon wondered just how much time was going to be needed for Inek to be fitted for armor, it was probably a lot different trying to make armor for an animal. A passing though went through her mind, if Ed had ever refused to make something for someone. Call it curiosity, something she had learned was not always good in the legion. The thought came and went just as quickly. He had answered her last curious question flatly, emotionless as always. It seemed the only emotions he showed ended up being rude, annoyed, or something of that shade. It was not Rhiannon's business, and she really didn't like him that much anyway.

Admiring a rather nicely made sword, Rhiannon stopped to test it. The weight was not one she found favorable and still despite all that, she liked it very much. As a sword it was a fine specimen, the work and straight edge were exquisite. Rhiannon spent quite some time eying the sword, perhaps someone else could do much better with it. Carefully she put it back where it once was, a lovely weapon she let her finger linger on a moment before moving to the next. She found the weapon quality varied depending on where it was located, and wondered if it had actually been ordered by maker. It was not exact but she did find a tendency of gorgeous weapons being in the same box. Anyone who cared could see she at least had a very good eye for weapons. “People can be quite annoying, though I'd have though you would find reason to do something other than be here. Though it is nice to always know where you are.”

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There was a first time for every time he supposed. That included armor for animals. He thought he'd never see the day. Darn Mercury for giving everyone a furry pet! He'd be making all different kinds animal armor prototypes for a month! He had a gerbil, Warlow got a fox, Felicity got a kitten, Charlie got a dog... why couldn't they all just have something standard?! Then again, Ryley the gerbil was pretty good company to have... better than humans, that was for sure. Besides, Edmund didn't really mind the work, it was something different, a challenge. He didn't mind getting challenged. He had been his whole life, so facing difficulty and things that didn't work wasn't anything new. If he was really feeling evil, he'd give people the metal, a hammer and then say: "You figure it out." But having projects to work on kept him away from people and in the forge, so he wouldn't complain. This type of armor would have to have some planning: there would probably have to be more ability to move (since, face it, animals were more agile, flexible, and on the move than humans, even roman demigods). Yet at the same time, it had to provide the same protection. This prototype was going to be interesting. He'd probably have to make an anamatronic form of a fox to test it. Project armor for animals was on. Edmund nodded slightly. It probably wouldn't be perfect. Nothing he ever did or made was. It always had some flaws. It'd probably take him a few tries to get the kinks out, but he'd stick to it until it was the best he could get it.

He continued the weapons sorting. Those that were pretty much finished and only needed a few touchups before going on the racks were put in a special pile so he could lug them to the forge. It wouldn't take long for him to fix them. Warlow was still on her sword hunt. Edmund actually wasn't quite sure why the forge was still mass producing weapons. They had enough fixer uppers on the WIP and dump table to last a while. Add in all the full barrels and wracks in the armory itself, and yeah, they were set for maybe a year. After shuffling through a few more miscellaneous items, he deconstructed the start of a metallic looking box. Inside, he found a computer chip and gears. Ah well, it was on the table. Public camp property. He carefully removed the chip and the gears and slipped them in his pocket. He'd figure out what they could do later. They could possibly work for his soon to be flying plane and on Lance's raptor. He was making one this year. Either for her death day or her birthday. Most likely her birthday since that was more of a happy occasion than her death date. He had promised, after all. Fly away.

Edmund looked over at Warlow to see how she was progressing with the sword search. She took her time with them. The sword picking process was a slow, careful one. The weapon one chose could save a life one day. Some of the swords were split by their quality. Although all the forgers would have liked to claim that they made all swords equally, it was barely the case. Edmund knew that some of the forgers just mass produced weapons, making them with little to no thought. Edmund didn't know why they were in the forge doing that. If they wanted to make sloppy swords that could fail, they could go start an Arts and Crafts club. Then again, some swords were made well, but just with no embellishment. Those swords were fine by his book; the weapon didn't need to be beautiful to be useful. Edmund shrugged. He'd spend his spare time where he wanted. "Either here or the forge." Although he doubted it'd be "nice" to spend time with him, wherever he was.

IC: 686

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White as snow, a fox with blood red eyes slipped into the armory. He had explored the camp and more in his eight years of service. It was Inek, and though he belonged to Rhiannon and shared her soul he acted very differently. His paws tread softly on the floor, moving in the quiet unseen way that only an animal could emulate. He was quicker, and more stealthy than any child of Mercury when he wanted to be. The only disadvantage he was was the distinctly white fur. Often he did not want to disturb people, however he liked to check up on anyone who spent a lot of time alone. Edmund was one of them, passing by to make sure the boy had not gotten himself hurt while alone. Having not found the boy at the forge he made his way to the armory. Creeping softly to not startle him Inek easily spotted Rhiannon by the swords and bound over to her.

"Ah Inek!" she exclaimed happily "Just the little fox I wanted to see. I asked Simon's over there if he could make you some armor." her voice was a million shades different from how she spoke with Edmund. Kind, loving, and she spoke as if Inek was not an animal but a person. Even her face lit up as she spoke to her familiar. It was the only friend she had longer than Josh, and someone she shared everything with. Inek was just as much a person, if not more, to Rhiannon that anyone else was.

Inek yipped in excitement, obviously glad to see Rhiannon and possibly excited about the thought of working with Edmund on something. He trotted over and sat at his feet, the fluffy white tail shifting back and forth on the floor. "Anything you need go ahead and ask him." Rhiannon said in her normal emotionless tone of voice. "He can pull books from the libraries too if necessary." Inek produced a card from under a collar that was covered by his fur, a library card with his name on it.

For a moment Rhiannon stuck to a single weapon, the balance was pretty good and it seemed the correct length for her. Just a little bit seemed off and she turned it to look at the blade straight along the edge. It was crooked, or to be more specific the blade curved to the left. With a heavy sigh Rhiannon put the thing back. She wondered why so many of these blades seemed so off center, as if they had simply been made for the sake of being made and nothing else. Weapons were just as much a work of art as any painting, but then there were certain paintings she didn't think deserved a frame. She stood with her hands on her hips staring at the small number that was left to go through, at least for the type of sword she was looking for.

After a few minutes of simply looking at what was left to search through Rhiannon came to a decision. For now she would find a decent sword to practice with until her favorite could be repaired by someone. Then if she still wished to she'd be able to practice with two short swords instead of a knife and a sword, it couldn't be too hard to use both hands with a weapon. She picked the slightly curved sword back up and decided it would be fine to settle with for now, since it was perfect except for that curve. Walking back to the pile she had put her sword in, Rhiannon pulled it out and looked it over. "How long would it be to repair this sword?" she asked with a little less harshness than normal. It may have been because Inek entered the room, she always seemed kinder with him around.

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Edmund flipped over another half made computer chip. He wasn't sure what it was for now, but he'd probably find out in the next few hours. The sixteen year old pocketed it as well; he was starting to be come fascinated with any sort of computer chip ever since creating Felicity's metal bird. Besides, one little chip could do so much, as he had quickly figured out. With the WIP weapons piling up, he decided to make a quick run to the forge. Warlow was probably too involved in her weapons to notice him slipping out of the armory and into the forge through the door that connected the two buildings. Either she did or didn't notice him leaving. Whichever, he didn't care. All he knew, was that he'd be back for more sorting and then more armory to forge runs so he could actually repair some of this stuff... on top of all the other orders Jolly and the camp had given him. It was a lot of work: not that he minded it or anything, it was one of the things he actually enjoyed doing (or as close as Edmund could get to enjoying something), and it didn't make his mind idle. It gave him something to do other than fight, eat, and get minimal sleep.

When he slipped back in, he noticed that he got another visitor in the forge. Thankfully, it wasn't human. It was an animal. So this was Rhia's familiar. The sixteen year old recognized it with ease: the sleek, white animal was the fox that would come to poke his head into the forge every now and again whenever Ed was working alone for long periods of time. He wasn't the only one who noticed the fox's arrival though; once Warlow got a glimpse of the animal, her whole demeanor changed. "So that's your name..." Edmund murmured in his flat voice, more to himself and the fox than to Warlow. Finally, he was able to attach the proper name to the animal. In his mind, Edmund had honestly started calling him Okami after the Japanese game. Making some armor for Inek... alright. Ed watched how the foxed moved, suddenly becoming very concentrated on his body structure. Inek moved over towards his feet and sat. The forge boy let a smirk flicker across his usual stony face and half kelt down. "Never had a fox for a mannequin before. Suppose there's a first for everything," he said, still in his emotionless tone, but more to the fox than to Warlow. He nodded slightly in the girl's direction, but then his eyes were drawn to Inek's collar. "Alright," he muttered, raising his eyebrows. Animal with a library card. Also another first.

And still, Warlow looked for a suitable weapon. Still nothing. She was probably looking at more of the mass produced ones. At least Edmund tried to make swords he made useable and balanced, along with trying to follow Camp's demands for weapons that they'd actually used. By that, he meant that he had noticed that slightly embellished swords were more popular than the good, balanced swords with no other art on them. He supposed it didn't hurt to fight with something that was slightly nice to look at (when it wasn't against your throat); something with minute, yet carefully engraved sword designs. So, with that being the general camp demand, he started intergrading simple engravings into his swords. Necessary for a good blade? Not at all. Embellishment made little to no sense to him, but whatever. If he was going to make blades, at least he'd make ones that had a shot at getting an owner. All he wanted to do was to make the swords to the best of his ability. That meant no flimsy, unbalanced, or crooked blades on his account. Camp couldn't exactly afford to have forgers be sloppy; even though it probably was already happening, Edmund didn't see why he needed to help add to the disgusting problem. He'd make swords the way he wanted, even if it meant he'd have to spend longer on them. At least they'd be correct/made to his best ability. He supposed he was a bit OCD in that sense.

He turned slightly, hearing Warlow back at the dump table as a few items got shifted. So, she was back to her old sword, along with a backup that had a slight curve on it. He didn't blame her: first weapon was always the best weapon. At her question, he looked at her original sword, assessing the damage. "If you want to come into the forge, I'll fix it right now," he said in his usual monotone and with a shrug.

IC: 813

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The only reason Rhiannon bothered to notice the absence of Edmund from the Armory, was because of her ADHD. It drew her attention to him when he stood to leave, and even upon his return. Even the words he muttered to no one she recognized, though she did not care. She had talked to herself plenty, and Edmund had left her alone, she supposed it was a kindness in it self. Though the though of associating the word 'kind' with Edmund made her skin crawl. She sometimes liked the ADHD, she could never really block anything out, so it was perfectly useful for pretending to ignore someone. It was a passive aggressive tactic she was not too fond of, but beating a person's face in was normally frowned upon. While choosing to ignore someone brought at least some piece of mind when they began to get angry. Reading a good book, learning a new piece of history, or the like were the things that held her attention. Those where the things that she got lost in, which was probably the fault of her mother and father. Trivia goddess of magic, and her father the ancient tome translator and collector. Inherited and learned behavior.

Rhiannon watched her familiar, his tail waving back and forth. He seemed excited enough about the prospect, and it seemed they had both met before. She would not have believed anyone, even Inek, would like Edmund, but evidently she was wrong. The thought annoyed her slightly, given the fact she shared a bit of her soul with her familiar long ago. It seemed as if the two had gone in separate directions since that day though. It had probably been that Inek simply took the fragment of soul and developed his own, because she knew she was not as kind as he was. Her fox cared so much about everyone’s safety, she did not. Not anymore. She had made sure that part of her was hidden away, beneath whatever she could.

The main focus of her attention focused on Edmund again, he would actual be able to fix a sword now? She glanced at the pile he had been working on, and the pile of things that had been finished. Had it not been a line of things and simply something he was working on? It mattered little, he would be able to fix her blade now. She enjoyed not having to wait. “Sounds like a plan. I'm not intruding too much into you're work schedule am I?” she asked a little bit concerned. Her voice did not betray her emotion, but it was obvious to Inek what she felt. He shared her should after all, and the two were still linked by it. They could share meanings and emotions without words, it was nice sometimes.

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Some people would of thought it weird that Edmund had been here around seven years, yet didn't exactly know anyone. It wasn't weird at all to him. It had been the same way in his schools too. Ed never really knew anyone, and no one ever knew Ed. He'd rather it this way, anyway. Alone, solitary, antisocial, cooped up in the forge or armory, making a plane, being emotionless, avoiding people. Yup, that was pretty much Edmund. He didn't know if Warlow noticed his absence or not, but either way, he didn't care. Even with his mind able to concentrate on armory work piles, his ADHD was still quietly jumping around. The Roman solider part of him was still on edge: ready to throw a knife from his sleeve should an enemy pop up. Ed should have felt at least semi safe in here, but he didn't. It wasn't safe anywhere; not even places where people told him it would be. No reason to trust a person's word, after all. He remembered being on ADHD hyper drive when anyone came in or left the room at the hospital, but that was mostly because they were keeping him still with nothing else to do than to sit there, strapped to the bed. Another part of his first cohort training had been to be observant. One second or less to process a fight scene and analyze the enemy; to figure out a weakness and design a plan of attack. He wondered if that was just first cohort or if that was just Legion training 101. Whichever.

He kind of found it odd that the fox had taken an interest in him. Then again, he was probably better with non human things: machines, wood, metal, and animals. Edmund didn't exactly mind Inek poking his head around every once and a while. From what he remembered, it was mostly just to stare at him, as if validating that another human being was still there. From the waist down, Edmund was more or less of a statue in the forge for long periods of time. His hands would move to fix and create, but that was about it. The sixteen year old would just stay there... and Inek would just drift in every once and a while, mostly when he was alone in the forge. It felt like he was being watched: not in the creepy way that he did to other people, but just as a "check up" feeling. Why Inek cared, he had no clue. If a familiar was the kindred spirit of a person, he didn't know how Inek managed to become one to Warlow. What would his familiar be? Was it an animal that represented you? Perhaps a German Shepherd or a Rottweiler. Or a bear. He had no idea. All he knew was that he had been transformed into enough animals for a lifetime. Now he was even at risk for surgery, no thanks to the stupid freaking gods.

"No," he replied in the same, toneless voice as ever. Edmund put down the gears that he was deconstructing and started to walk back into the forge. He had been working progressively on the WIP and dump tables since he was thirteen. Things were taken and put on daily; he was probably never going to truly be finished, but he could try his best to get it at least a little less cluttered every day. "Come into my web," he muttered, opening the door that connected the two areas. Come into my web... said the spider to the fly... his mind finished for him. Nursery rhymes. Of all the freaking things on the planet that he remembered from probably Pre-K, it was a creepy nursery rhyme. The sixteen year old drifted over his his own work bench and held out his hand for her sword.

IC: 655

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Rhiannon could give some kind of credit to Edmund, he always answered questions in the most direct way possible. There were plenty of times where it was a huge pain, but she slightly preferred it over the overly exaggerated gas bags that spoke in poems, or paragraphs. Wasn't there a way for people to give the information she wanted and nothing more? It was impossible, and she knew it. More than likely she was a person to do the same as them, give too little information or too much depending. Mostly when people asked about her magic, or the basic plot of a book. It was so difficult to explain those things quietly and calmly. There was a quote by Albert Einstein that said if you can't explain it simply you don't know it well enough, but how could someone summarize an entire story in a sentence? The character interactions, the entire history that could be an entire world thought up and placed behind the scenes so wonderfully. Books were in themselves magical. She wanted to read another one, be drawn into another world and feel the complex emotions of the characters inside. The life here in the legion could become boring. The repetitive behaviors, and trainings that had to be followed everyday. She wondered if that was the before and after for the characters, like in Lord of the Rings. They lived in such a magical world, but before that didn't they simply live life as anyone else? Normal and repetitive? A sigh came from her as she thought about it, her mind wandering as it often did.

Rhiannon avoided following Edmund for a moment, even without purposely remembering it she could finish the sentence. It creeped her out to no end in that moment. It took a little while for her to actually walk to the forge with Edmund. Trying to avoid thinking about what could have possibly been messed up in that crazy head of his. Perhaps he had snapped a long time ago, and people had not realized he was crazy? No most people realized he was crazy, though the same could be said about everyone. Who actually says something that creepy though? Besides wasn't he supposed to be introducing her to the parlor and not his web? Okay, Rhiannon's book worm tenancies were showing. Time to stop thinking about it.

Walking to his work bench Rhiannon placed the handle of her sword in Edmund's outstretched hand. Keeping gentle hold of it until he pulled it away, as anyone should when handing someone a bladed object. “Thanks for this. How would you feel about straightening this other blade?” she asked, not expecting Edmund to say yes or no to the question. He had a tendency to agree to any projects, but she was not about to put it past him to deny one either.

The small white fox followed after the two humans as they left the room. In a moment he began to look around, sniffing and searching the forge. He knew both humans would be safe without his ever watching care, and decided to actually scope the place out. Nudging a piece of metal or two out of the way as he did so. “Inek don't make a mess!” She said attempting to put the things back. He simple snorted at her and went back to sniffing around the room. She made actual facial expressions, worried about Inek hurting himself, annoyed that he wouldn't listen to her, happy at his stubbornness. Inek was one of the only people who could get such an expressive side of her.

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credit to mellontikoph0bia.tumblr.com

Edmund had always the blunt, right to the point sort of person. He didn't beat around the bush. Never saw the point in it. It just prolonged the moment of social interaction. He didn't sugar coat or draw whatever he said out. If he was going to open his mouth to say something (waisting oxygen and breaking beautiful silence to do so), it had better be productive, direct and short. He couldn't stand people who took their sweet time; who spoke in paragraphs or in more than once sentence with metaphors and long, drawn out answers. It was a waste of his time; he didn't have time for people to be waisting his, right along with him having no time to socially interact. It didn't help that he was rather quiet and withdrawn by nature either. He rarely talked, so if he did, the words out of his mouth had better be worth it. His one year of selective muteness hadn't totally gone away. Now he was more of a functional mute. One that would talk when only necessary... and only when he wanted to; when he didn't see it as a waste of breath or silence. He didn't care if people thought if he was rude or a jerk or, anything really. Nothing he couldn't handle. Edmund would be Edmund, and they'd have to live with it.

Warlow seemed to hesitate in following him into the forge. Edmund let the door swing gently closed behind him. He held it open for her for a second, but no longer after that. Whatever, her choice. She'd come in if she wanted, when she wanted. Edmund strode in without hesitation and sat at his workbench. In part, he didn't blame her. Would he follow someone who had just quoted a creepy children's poem and who had then even added another layer of creepiness by swapping the somewhat harmless word of "parlor" with creepier word of "web", therefore implying that the person to whom the line was directed to was the lunch/victim of the one who uttered the line? Simple answer? Nope. Then again, the forge/armory was Edmund's lair. It was where he spent most of his "free time" (or just the time when he was skipping out of training). While he was sitting there, waiting for Warlow to join him or not, he did what he always did: pulled out his plane that he was working on. It was going to Meg's flying one. The one he promised to make her.

That's when she showed up with the sword and handed it over. He took it, once again looking it over and assessing the damage. Ed's eyes didn't waver from the sword blade as Warlow asked about a second weapon. "Fine. What else do you have?" he asked, lightly tracing the flat side of the badly damaged sword. Badly cracked in one place with a lot of other nicks and chips else where. First business of the matter: faulty metal or just Legion ware down? He lightly touched the blade again. The metal ore was fine. Warlow probably wore the blade down without proper maintenance. He got up and went over to the sharpening stone. Out of any other areas in the forge, the sharpening wheel and the space around it was the cleanest/neatest. Edmund had made it so the past few weeks. No random scraps of metal or wood or paper or any junk of any kind were allowed within two yards of the wet stone. Ed gave the wheel a light spin, coating it with water, before stepping on the wheel, and putting Warlows blade to the stone.

Then he heard her voice take on a bit of a lighter tone. Inek must have some back into the room. It was also helpful that Warlow had called the fox by name in her call out. Edmund stayed silent as he heard some of the metal projects dropping, and then the slight scraping as Warlow attempted to put it back. He'd clean up later if he had to... Whatever.

IC: 700