She slips into the smoky room, pausing a moment to lean on the doorway and admire for perhaps the thousandth time the strange beauty of the scene before her. Amidst the soot-stained tools and crackling flames, a tall Human toils tirelessly at a well-used anvil. Despite the heat and strenuous work, his silver-streaked hair is neatly tied back in an impeccable ponytail which brushes his muscular shoulders as he works, moving back and forth between anvil and forge fires with well-rehearsed movements. As he finishes the piece he is currently mending, she can resist temptation no longer and quickly crosses the room, slipping her arms around his waist and planting a series of soft kisses along the side of his neck.
He shivers slightly, almost dropping the freshly repaired tool. "I need to put a bell on you. Hello, beloved." Samsaren reaches for Sendithu, drawing her close for an embrace and then releases her with a wince, eyeing his clothes critically. "I should get cleaned up before I ruin that dress."
The Elven woman laughs softly and gives his ponytail an affectionate tug. "Ruin it, arn sanbabest, I do not care. I will buy another, it is just a dress." With complete disregard for the scattered bits of metal littering the area, she seats herself atop the anvil, crossing her legs and arranging the plum-tinted firesilk neatly around her. "So, just getting started or wrapping things up for the day?"
He grins at her, taking a moment to appreciate the view. "I could be persuaded either way. What's on your agenda today?"
"I had not decided yet." She shifts slightly, picking at a non-existent piece of lint on her dress.
Samsaren smiles at her, taking her hand in his and brushing his lips across her knuckles just to make her blush. It always works, and they share an amused grin. He stretches, rolling his shoulders, before methodically taking out his forging tools one by one and carefully inspecting each for any sign of damage. Sendithu pulls a small ball of yarn out of her cloak pocket and casually begins knitting, humming quietly to herself. They work in comfortable silence for a time, her knitting needles clicking in time to his wire brush as he repairs his tools, until he glances over and notices that her work has gone awry and she doesn't seem to be paying attention to it. "Something on your mind?"
