She heaved the last of the bars into place, wiping sweat off her brow. The forge, gladly hired out by the Kul Tiran blacksmith, blazed long that day and night as Nynkasi worked the chunks of ore into shining bars. It had not been easy.
She gulped down water, despite the bitterness and the odd taste from standing so long in the stinking heat. Pushed hair out of her eyes. She had to put much more then just coals into that forge to render the elementium out of the ore. She had carved runes into the forge itself to protect it, channelled energy from the earth, and with some small note of pride, used that deep, rediscovered part of herself to draw power and make the flames blaze that much hotter. And she had taken that metal, molded it, made it into those brightly dark bars. Something that Fenix, perhaps, would appreciate.
She had no idea how the elementals preferred these things. But effort told, and…well. This was it, wasn’t it? The decision. She could not fight him, and once she had found rhythm, peace even, working the forge, her temper cooled and her thoughts began to settle. Nynkasi found herself in almost a meditation, heating, pooling, molding. Thinking freely. She could not fight him, and she had the feeling that his temper could only be pushed so far. She couldn’t bullshit him. Couldn’t manipulate him, although he was probably canny enough to do so to her. He hid his motives, to a degree, but he had been honest.
Perhaps she could do that.
She owed him, and she wanted to live. She feared power, but it was in her blood. She wanted to grow and mold the world as she molded this metal but she did not want to lose herself. She took a breath and sent more flames into the forge.
And when the slag had settled and the elementium flowed…
Nynkasi looked down into the last little pool of metal, noting the grim reflection. Even as hot as she could get the forge, this next step required *her*. Murmuring her words of protection and power, she swirled her fingers into the metal, willing it to follow her, guiding it into the forms she desired. Then brought it, still free flowing, utterly focused to not let one drop fall to earth before the liquid, shifting stream of elementium twisted into the cooling oil…hissed, steamed, rose again, and now she used only her hands to bring it to a white hot heat again, no sweat, too dry, too focused. Changing it.
She lost track of the time, the flickering light fading and growing through out the night. Finally, though, there was a moment. When what she had done rested on the edge of the forge, and she greedily gulped down water. Eyed it for some time. It was not all done yet. There needed to be one thing…she frowned, thinking. No. Not that. No bullshit, no flattery. He wouldn’t expect that of her and she wasn’t willing to give it. Something more appropriate to what may come.
Nyn’s eyes wandered at random over the forge, and finally came upon a little pile the blacksmith had left behind. A faint smile, and she reached over, easily heating and twisting off a little chunk of plain iron. The first of things one thought of as hard. Unbreakable. Her palms grew hot again as she thought, set aside her water, and strode back to the forge.
This would do.