#baronyofthesilverwolf

"That's..." HUFF.

"What?"

She settles a long bar of metal into the forge to heat.

"You mean those elves get the money and the power and the freeholds and the looks AND they make stuff perfect?"

"Mostly perfect."

"But I'm always gonna make broken things?"

"Get the wax outta yo' ears."

"I said -sometimes- if you're makin' sumthin' -really- out there.... it don't always work like you thought it would."

"Not that it -don't- work... just... not work like you thought, maybe."

A frown, with eyebrows scrunched up.

Willy jostles the bar with tongs.

"But regular stuff turns out perfect?"

A long pause. "Most of the time, yeah."

"What if it's none of the time, then?"

"You spend more time."

The metal is heated, glowing. She gets gloves, goggles, tools of the trade and sets up the anvil.

"Maybe I shouldn't be a nocker."

"Ain't got a lot of choice now." she points out.

"But....." slowly "Maybe you'd do better fostered with a Dougal?"

She wraps her arms around her torso. "To watch'm churn out perfect shit?"

That gets her an eyebrow. "Learn sumthin'?"

"What 'em sweat an' strain an' yeah, sometimes fail, till they get it right?"

A shrug. "Not my call. Just an idea."

"You think I didn't furkin' work to make things right? You don't... you don't GET it. It doesn't matter what I do, or how long I spend..."

She rubs her face. "Whatever. I don't get why I'm trying."

"You don't got a -choice-, Shells." with relative patience "A nocker you'll be 'cause a nocker you are. An' not to rub it in, but you only been a nocker a hot minute. Anyone talk to you about Da'an?"

"Who's Dan?"

A sigh and she puts the metal back in the forge, shoving her goggles back up on her head; her hair sticks out wildly.

"Da'An." she separates the sounds "Means.... Fate, I guess. Like that. But Fae Fate. Guess it's different for mortals.

"I get why I'm trying. Because my head's all full of ideas. All the time. More since.... Yeah? But it keeps coming out wrong."

"Edison....." she spits and hit sizzles and pops on hot metal ".... stole a lotta stuff an' maybe he stole this too, but he supposed to have said 'I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work.' I sure don't recommend Edison as a role model but he might coulda had sumthin' there."

"easy to say when you make stuff worth anything.'

"All nockers make stuff worth sumthin'. Just maybe you ain't found what you do, yet."

"Anyway, Da'an? So that's Fae Fate. An' you don't mess with Fae. If you're a nocker, you're -meant- to be. Don't screw with that."

"When we talk about Fate it ain't lightly or some kinda abstract shit. Fae Fate, Da'an, is REAL. An' it's almost alive; like, it's elastic."

"I want to make good stuff."

"Takes work. Takes practice. You gotta want it. There's Arts, magic, that can help. But ya can't cheat, can't skip steps; you gotta get fostered and Sained first."

"I want it. I just... just... look, I can fix things okay."

"That's something."

"Sure you can, it ain't nothin'." Willy rattles the metal bar in the fire "You just gotta give makin' stuff a chance to come to you."

A huff. "You ain't even seen..."

"What, your stuff?" A shrug "You wanna show me?"

She wavers, then nods.

Willy huffs. "Alright, alright, swear .... gotta close down the forge, lose the fuel and time, not sure this metal gonna take too much more heating and cooling within snapping ....." she grumbles, but shuts things down.

Thistle is scrolling through her phone.

Willy finishes with huffing and grumbling. "A'ight. Let's go."

"I... I got pictures..."

"Pictures? Ya kint -hold- a picture...." but she peers over.

Clay gnomes!