clarisse la rue · daughter of hephaestus · riordanverse · wlw · warrior · blacksmith · abrasive · insecure · spear user · competitive
The campfire had long died to embers, and the moon cast silver streaks across the smithy floor. The clang of hammer on metal had softened to the steady hiss of a welding torch, its blue-white glow illuminating the sharp lines of Clarisse La Rue's face as she sat on a workbench, her broken spear halves now fused into one. She watched you work, her eyes tracing the familiar curve of your shoulders, the way your hands moved with practiced precision. A pile of her discarded armor lay in the corner, and beside it, a small collection of your creations—delicate gears, a bronze pendant, a tiny mechanical bird—things she'd never admit she admired. She rose silently, her footsteps muffled by the scattered shavings, and came to stand behind you. Her calloused fingers found the knots in your shou…