you must be sure that the doubts and questions are your own

[serjeant]

Who: Seoraj and YOU.
What: The smithy is open for business, which means taking orders and working up basics for sale.
Where: Seoraj's Forge in Stoneshell.
When: Weekdays, business hours. Specify if it matters.
Notes: This is generally here for anyone to whom blacksmiths are relevant!
Warnings: Archaic sexism.

Business may not be booming, but nevertheless it is well underway within a short time of Seoraj's acquisition. Most of his work to start with comes in through the farming communities, and the occupation is familiar in a way that lays out most starkly how familiar so much of this place is not. Steel works under his hands as it ever has, and the world outside the smithy marches on in its own, new way. Immersing himself in that is his way, though he's never had an opportunity like this before; he insinuates himself into life here as if it were an old cloak and not so crisply new as it is.

People begin to talk to him. That will be good, he thinks, though he doesn't yet know what for.

Comments

[suninhades]

Barbecues, giant ants, visions - even at home, Integra would find only one of those things unnerving. It's just another week at work in Baedal, to her, and until the day that something as compelling as a Nazi war front invasion happens, she will carry on reacting to everything as she always does. With dry reservation.

Whether or not Seoraj expected a tall pale-haired woman riding a destrier to show up in his forge that day - surprise, he gets one. Integra is dressed for warmer weather, but only slightly; it would take more than the fires of hell to get her out in short sleeves, but at least she's not wearing a wool greatcoat.

Knock knock?

[serjeant]

Kilts aren't exactly summertime wear, but that has yet to stop Seoraj - in any climate - so he can't exactly throw stones here. In the warm weather and the heat of his forge, his shirt is tacky to his skin and his face positively gleams as he answers her, wiping his hands with a cloth in anticipation of offering her one.

Seoraj assesses her for a moment, then offers said hand, respectful without deferring, "Sir Hellsing," he greets, pleasantly. "That's a fine animal. What can I do for you?" Does the horse need shoes? Can he touch the pony?

[suninhades]

It may be warm out, but she's not near sweated through - it's just a stubbornness, really - and she notes the blacksmith's condition with a critical look that is devoid of self-consciousness, but not particularly emotional. (She can deal with the scenery just fine, yeah.)

"Master Stoneshell." That's what they called the last one, anyway, and her expression remains passive as she grips his hand, firm. "You shoe your own products, then?"

A number of things to note, at that; she doesn't seem surprised in the least that he recognizes her on sight, and she doesn't actually answer his question. Reconnaissance mission? Professional curiosity, more like, though in that case one would think she'd just say hello.

[serjeant]

Habit and instinct straightens his back in response to her manner, which he himself finds briefly interesting in that it's the first time a woman's voice has ever found that reaction. It's the only thing that gives him pause; the manner of address is becoming common enough locally not to make him blink.

"I do my own work," he says, simply, and when she takes his hand, he clasps hers at the wrist briefly before letting go. "Best way to see it done right, so my sergeant always said."

[suninhades]

Her hands are gloved - which is her default, he'll come to notice if he sees her again; the state of her hands only tends to be worth noting if she's not wearing them - but even if they weren't, she doesn't seem the type to bat an eye at sweat and dirt, much less cringe over it. At his response, she does a sort of mental shrug and turns back outside, gesturing for him to go ahead and have a look at her horse's hooves. They're not in bad condition, but nearing needing replaced - another month, maybe, if she goes easy. Whomever put them on last did an inoffensive job.

[after the network business, but other than that whenever]

[stepintoshadows.livejournal.com]

The forge had been harder to locate than Rorschach had been expecting, but then it was an entirely new city, his feet didn't know the streets as well as they did the ones back home, even if they did seem familiar somehow. He had relied on the maps as little as possible the entire way, only glancing at them now and again to be sure he was on the right track, but the rest he did by simple exploration; take a side street here, a detour there, trying to build an internal map, frames of reference. Getting a feel for this new city, the way it moved and breathed. He was in no hurry, he had no leads, only questions, and they would keep for now.

But eventually he did find it, and now he steps through the door, face in place and bundled in layers even with the weather, as calm and implacable as usual despite the new circumstances.

[serjeant]

It's an old-fashioned place, if a different old-fashioned than Seoraj himself - the blacksmith wears a kilt, a rough homespun shirt, wears his hair long, walked off the set of some very confusing period film into an old west smithy, porch and all. He's wiping his hands off with the cloth as he comes to meet his (prospective) customer, and he makes an interested note of Rorschach's unique appearance without seeming immediately concerned by it. If he were that concerned, after all, he probably wouldn't be offering the man his hand to clasp at the wrist. "What can I do for you, then?"

[stepintoshadows.livejournal.com]

The vigilante eyes the offered hand thoughtfully, chin dipping down to give some indication of where his attention lies since the ink gives little away, but he seems to discard the practice, instead raising his head again (and then even further) to regard the blacksmith and ignoring the hand entirely. While some might see it as a slight of some kind, in this case it isn't; unless violence is involved, the use in touching for the sake of greeting or much of anything else is largely lost on him.

"Spoke on" - a moment to pull a suitable word from his memory banks - "device. Need tools. And discretion."

No patience for small-talk either, apparently.

[serjeant]

Seoraj pauses, very briefly, but he lowers his hand without making a production of it and continues. While he is by nature a social animal, he's also a professional; small-talk is an optional extra, not something folks pay him for, and they might not pay him for anything if he annoys them. He can roll with the punches.

(Probably literally, being as he's both a big guy and a lifelong soldier.)

"All right," he says, cloth in hand, folding his arms. Not unfriendly, ready to listen; he has a healthy wariness, but he likes to go outside his experience, and Rorschach is...well. Pretty far out there. He'll follow this a ways and see if it's worthwhile. "What sort of tools are you after?"

[stepintoshadows.livejournal.com]

He stands easily, to most appearances relaxed despite Seoraj's imposing bulk and the heat of the forge. The eyes under the mask are less easy, watching the blacksmith critically, but outwardly he seems unconcerned. His answer is brief, calculated for minimal but efficient, each word necessary and none extraneous. And that voice? Given the amount of grit and gravel and steel in it there's no way it's anything but artifice. "Lockpicks, for now. Complete set."

Because really, for as often as he kicks Daniel's door in - well, more accurately kicked seeing as how he's no longer in New York and has yet to see his former partner - it's not a practice he can really afford to use all the time.

[wandandsickle]

Oh, look, it's a prospective apprentice!

Jones stops by the Stoneshell forge in the late morning, dressed in what she's managed to scrounge together for work clothes (blessedly, she's been able to procure a pair of pants—apparently they make them properly fitted for women in some places). And boy is it hot. She can feel the heat even a few paces away from the door.

But, she figures, she's endured just as harsh of conditions at work. So, she pokes her head in the doorway. "Hello?" she says. "Mr. Seoraj? It's Jones, about the apprenticeship."

[serjeant]

"One minute." Right, the little girl who wants an apprenticeship. Seoraj isn't so sure about this, but he's made his mind up to give her a chance and stows his doubt to meet her - once he's secured what he's working on presently, at least. It's more like a few minutes he keeps her waiting, but she can take some comfort in the fact that he's wearing a shirt this time, his leather apron covering most of him, too.

Gleaming with the sweat of heat and exertion, he offers her a hand. "Just Seoraj, lass. Or Master Stoneshell, if it suits you." It suits the locals, so he doesn't mind it.

[wandandsickle]

"Erm... Master Stoneshell it is, then." Jones likes the ring of that more. It sounds more official. "So," she says, clasping her arms in front of her wiry, weathered frame, "where do I start?"

[serjeant]

"At the bottom." Both literally and figuratively. Seoraj makes a gesture, casual, at where his tools are put up. "You learn the care of the tools first. You learn how to work in here, how not to set yourself and my building on fire." Dry. "There is a lot of hard, dull work you do before you pick up a tool to use it. I need to teach your muscles to know quicker than your mind, for some things."

[wandandsickle]

It's not an unfamiliar speech, at least in tone; it would be an understatement to say that mages tend to be concerned with seniority. She knew she wouldn't get to make anything on her first day, although a part of her is still a little disappointed. Her fingers itch a little bit. But she's no stranger to hard, boring work, and knows the importance of well-maintained tools.

"All right," she says, nodding. "That's fine." If he thinks that's going to scare her away, he's going to have to try harder. "Show me what to do, Master Stoneshell."

[coffeeking]

Ianto finds his way to Seoraj after a couple days deliberation. He's reluctant to spend much money when he's trying to do his part to save up for a place, but with any luck, he can put this on Hellsing's tab. He'll run it by Integra if all goes favorably. Strolling up to the forge, he knocks on the open door frame to announce himself.

[serjeant]

Seoraj raises a hand in greeting, then offers it to Ianto to clasp at the wrist. "'Day to you, there." Good or bad, he can probably make his own mind up, doesn't need someone else to tell him. "What can I do for you?"

[coffeeking]

Ianto clasps his wrist amicably with a professional smile, a little thrown by the old-fashioned greeting, but quickly recovering. "Good morning. I was wondering if you're skilled in making ammunition. Specifically, bullets for automatic guns, or revolvers."

Even if he's not, Ianto's willing to let him give it a go. The lack of ammo in Baedal is quickly becoming a problem.

[serjeant]

As he lets go, he sucks the back of his teeth in thought with a shake of his head. "I don't know the weapons," he says, apologetically; they're not at that level, where he's from, and the scarcity in Baedal means no one has had a need to explain them to him yet here. "I'd be happy to give it a try, if you can show me what it is you need."

[coffeeking]

Ianto nods agreeably, not terribly surprised, and removes both his gun and Jack's from beneath his coat, where they're tucked under his waistband. He places them on a nearby table before digging two rounds out of his pocket -- two of the last rounds for both guns, respectively -- and then two more from another pocket that he's already taken the liberty of taking apart. The bullets are separated from their cartridges and primers. There's no powder. He lines them up on the table.

"The ammunition looks simple, but it's actually somewhat complex, and requires precision work." He briefly explains how the rounds need to be assembled and then shows how they're loaded into the guns. "When the trigger is pulled, the firing pin hits the primer on the bullet, which causes the powder to erupt in a contained explosion that forces the projectile out of the cartridge at an extremely high speed."

He looks at Seoraj, brow furrowed. He knows this is probably out of the blacksmith's current depth. The question is, can he rise to the challenge? "I know it's asking a lot, but do you can give it a try? We have a supply of powder, and a press that can assemble the rounds accurately, we just need the individual pieces."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

a.k.a. backdated to the day when Njoki was working for Seoraj sorting tools and doing general prep work.

"Seoraj, I've a question for you."

[serjeant]

"Mmmn?" Seoraj doesn't quite look up from what he's doing, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "What's that, then?"

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

"Back home, I do conjure. It's a sort of folk magic. You have opinions on that?" She might as well ask if he's a fan of burning witching before she continues any further.

[serjeant]

Right, that does actually require he pause in his current activity and give what she's saying some focused thought. He sets his files down, sinking down onto the stool nearby and considering her. Before Nekweros, maybe he would've said he didn't believe in that sort of thing. He would have said it's hard to have an opinion on something he doesn't believe in; he would have said the hatred he sees springing up in others about it worries him, not for what it is but for the harbouring of such hatred and the cruelty that blind rage can strike with.

Nekweros shook up his world, and Baedal's turned it all the way upside down. Some of what he thinks is the same, but he no longer dismisses the occult out of hand as he might have once.

"I don't like to talk about things I don't know," he says, finally.

[aldabeyoun.livejournal.com]

"Good. You willing to hear about it? I'll even ease the way with a drink if you need it." Njoki is tempted to reassure him that she's not a bad person, but if he's not even willing to hear her out then there's no point. While she'd like to trust Seoraj, she's spent a long time being very cagey about her abilities.