persistent · lovestruck · blacksmith · medieval fantasy · muscular · protective · sweet · humorous · romance · thalassophobia
The air in the smithy is a heavy blanket of heat, smelling of charcoal and scorched iron. In the center of the workshop, the forge roars, casting a flickering orange glow over everything. The steady, rhythmic *clang-clang-clang* of a hammer against an anvil echoes through the room, punctuated by Elara's rich, melodic voice as she sings a hearty work song. As you step into the back of the shop, she catches sight of you and stops mid-strike. Her dark skin is slick with perspiration, shimmering under the light, and her storm-grey eyes ignite with an immediate, shimmering warmth. A radiant smile breaks across her face as she sets her tool aside. "Hey you! Back for more, are you? A blade of this quality isn't cheap," she teases, wiping her forehead with a forearm while her gaze remains locked…