Summer sucks.
No, really. Nen did not see the big deal - so its bloody hot all the time? What's so awesome about that? Not a thing for a girl who was better off in Hyoite. She was born there. She was raised there. And for some reason she had a body type better suited to... THERE. Summer made her go a bg rubbery one. She was perpetually uncomfortable, and nothing on this gods forsaken green field of dullness could make it up to her.
Except, of course, for smithing!
Sweet steel never let her down! She'd spent some time getting and cleaning some water, making a clay mold, she'd gathered some sheets of stone from a pit she found, and had made something of a forge from the contents of her bag. She was eager to use that hunk of iron ore she'd bargained for at last... It needed some serious love - but that was why she was getting the stuff at such a great price! She was just about to start working the crucible when... Lo and behold, something caught her eye!
The hooded woman looked up and squinted through the grass and the copse of trees she'd been making her forge in, right beside a stream... When what did she see but a woman! This place was secluded, far away from towns and cities... She'd chosen the place specifically for these worthy charms! What business was it of some girl to be out here? Except...
Mordecai were a worry in this part of the world. In this arcanopathic backwater, Mordecais were judge, jury and executioner for magic users. The whole country hated her kind... And as a precaution, she'd bought one of these stupid patches... A holy symbol? Oh really? A holy sign that she worshipped a god that said the gifts of magic were unholy, that would turn away the healing magic that could save his peoples' lives, even try to kill the mage that tried it? And mages were expected to love this god? In a foul temper, Nen put on the wretched thing, and set back to work... At least for a minute or two. Right about there...
She realized she'd need to make charcoal, if she didn't plan on using her own flame. That meant getting wood. That meant making a charcoal oven. That meant more work in this godawful sun, damn and blast! Unable to control herself, the frustration of the heat and the situation got to her and she said, at the top of her voice,
"DAMNIT!"