Raziel/Bloodkiss

[Bloodkiss]

Caoimhe sat down on the wooden bench at the back wall of her uncle's shop, wiping the sweat from her brow. Her red-gold hair clung to her face and neck, dampened from the heat and steam of the forge. She'd been working for almost a fortnight on the order she'd received, and it was finally done. Bright green eyes, filled with gold flecks, examined the armor she'd created. It was lovely, polished to an impossible shine, and perfect in every way. She had never been more proud of herself. Her uncle had taken her on when she was only eleven years old, and now, just after her eighteenth birthday, she possessed the same skill he had before he'd passed. She tugged off the thick leather apron, hanging it by the door, and stepped outside the door of the shop into the bright afternoon sun and cool breeze. Breathing a sigh of relief, she flattened out her plain tan gown.