fēorða • [ location : the smithy ]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

The palace was a quiet place since Gwen and Casey’s return from H. C. Clements. She had spent plenty of time away from Morgana back in Camelot, as her mistress didn’t always need her maidservant to accompany her on trips. There was, of course, more down time than usual, but in a busy castle filled with never finished chores there always had been something for her to occupy herself with. With an absent prince (that she tried her best not to think on) and no mistress to run the house, Gwen did the best to tend to what Morgana would have were she there, but once those things were settled she had only wasted a small portion of the morning.

Once breakfast was had and her cloak was retrieved Gwen opened her tablet and used the pen-like stylus to write Casey a note, sent directly to his machine, to inform him she would be at the Smithy for the day. There were still a great number of things about the device that made little sense to her, but the ability to hand write things on the Tablet made her more inclined to use it. She hid it back away in her bracelet, a constant reminder of the captivity within the city, and set out the short distance to her piece of home.

It felt more like home. There was so much to do around the place, it was a welcome distraction from the eventfulness of her arrival. She hardly had time to sit and enjoy it since coming here, aside from the few moments she spent alone in this very room singing to herself about her father...

With the weapons used for the rescue operation all stacked on the workbench and in need of sharpening and repair, she started by lighting a fire and hatching some water for cooling. The least damaged dagger in the bunch would have to do for now. She sat sharpening it by hand while she waited on the fire, checking the edge from time to time for a proper taper before sliding the sharpener across the blade once more. It was almost second nature for her, and in this setting she could hardly believe she was away from Camelot.

[ ooc | slightly revised. ]

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[location: the Smithy]

[notabuymoron.livejournal.com]

Casey heads over to the Smithy around lunchtime. His job bar-tending at Caritas means he doesn't get back to the Palace until the early hours and needs to sleep later. When he arrives, he stoops in order to fit through the doorway and cross the threshold. People back then were shorter, or so he remembers reading somewhere. He spots Guinevere sitting over by the fire, sharpening a blade. She looks at home with what she's doing. If she were from his time, he could easily imagine it being a P226 9mm Sig Sauer she was dismantling to clean.

"Hey." He offers by way of a greeting, looking around the place with his hands in the front of his jeans pockets. Looks like there are still a lot of weapons to clean and repair from the rescue. Does she expect to do it all herself?

"How are you holding up?"