Let's Do This! (Camriska)

[Vala]

8th of Spring, 511 "Excuse me?" Vala asked the burly blacksmith tentatively. "Excuse me sir, may I ask you a question? Just a quick one…" She smiled sweetly, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink in the heat of the arms gallery, she even twirled a lock of her silky hair around her finger for an added effect. Normally, to any other person, the blacksmith would have replied with a dismissing grunt - what did he look like? A tour guide? - but Vala, who he miss assumed to be a Yasi, had managed to disarm him with her childish facade. "Sure I have time for a question. What do you need girlie?" He wondered what such a frail looking girl would be doing in his part of Wind Reach, but kept his mouth shut.He dropped the heavy hammer he held in his right hand, down to his side, letting the weight rest against his leg. Compared to the Art Gallery the Arms Gallery seemed like a hectic, noisy, and unpleasant place. Unlike the Yasi who would visit the Arms Gallery's roaring fires to get toasty in the winter season, Vala prefered the more controlled heat of the Glass Reverie, plus there were no annoying metal on metal hammering sounding in the background amongst the more graceful glassworkers. In short, the pretentious glass blower wanna be, was completely oblivious to the layout of the Arms Gallery - it was now Vala regretted having skipped all those bendis with the rougher craftsmen. "I'm looking for Camriska. Would you know where she works?" Now the little chit thought he was popular enough to know every workman in the Arms Gallery - what a hoot. "Sorry but I don't know anyone by that name. What does she do, dear? He asked patiently even though he knew he had a mess of orders to fill for the Valintar. Vala blushed, angrily, at her embarrassing ignorance. From practice and self control she managed to pass her expression off as sheepish instead of enraged at the blacksmiths condescending tone. "I'm sorry," she giggled, though fake, it still sounded bubbly and cute. "How silly of me! She's a Fletcher and a bower." The man chuckled again as Vala tried to recover, only making her blush more. He raised his meaty hand, larger than Vala’s head, and dropped it on her shoulder in a friendly gesture. She clenched her fists in disgust and anger, trying to keep the anger from her face, but she couldn’t help the color from draining from her already pale façade. “Over there, on the far wall, of here, this is the main chamber, is where the apprentices work in the public forges; mainly blacksmiths and the like. For master craftsman like me,” The man beamed proudly, completely oblivious to Vala’s growing discomfort. “well we get our own workshop in one of the passages. Mine is over there.” He pointed with his giant hammer. “with most of the other master blacksmiths. Over there.” He pointed over to the next set of passage ways. “There are were the armorers work. And there are were the Masons work. And over there is where the…” The man, feeling a little cheerier from being so helpful, continued to teach Vala the layout of the Arms Gallery. “And over there is where you’ll find the bowers and fletchers, and hopefully the craftsman you’re looking for. Got everything girlie?” He took his hand off Vala’s shoulder to switch hands holding the hammer. It was hard, deathly hard, to suppress the growl of anger at his blatant invasion of her space – this was why Vala hated asking for help from strangers. Her palm was marked with deep half moons, from her sharp nails. She did manage to keep enough presence of mind to pay attention to his general directions and description of the layout of the Arms Gallery. “Thank you so much sir.” She stepped back, out of his reach, and bowed respectfully. “May Priskil bless you for your kindness!” She ran off, without waiting for a reply. She didn’t want to be late to help Camriska after the Avora had so generously discounted the quiver at market day, for her, a lowly chiet.