“Come on, y’piece o’ shite.”
It had been a long time since Mahji had had an issue with anything remotely related to smithing. He had taken on a few custom orders that had tested him, but nothing like this current project.
“Just fucking - hammer out th’ way –” His arm came overhead, hammer in hand, in a compact motion that was all strength and no finesse. “ – that you’re fucking s’posed t’.”
But his raging swing left the piece more uneven than it was a few moments before. He let out a sharp sigh through his nose and leaned forward, resting his hands on the anvil and staring at the metal he was working with. Sweat dripped from his brow and sizzled when it hit the heated but quickly cooling metal.
“Ain’t got time for y’fucking bullshite,” he growled downward, as if the blade he was working on might apologize and cooperate.
Frustration and worry were running high recently, and he felt it coming to a boiling point. But commissions and their deadlines had to be met and there was no room for more time away from the forge beyond what he’d already taken.
With a deep, steadying breath he lifted his hammer again and idly spun the project around on the anvil to try and hammer out the mistake he had just made. With more technique but no less strength, he swung and struck true - right on what must have been a weak point in the metal.
The blade shattered in two immediately and there was a moment where time stood still. His stomach fell first as he watched hours of work break before his eyes. The pit that was left behind was quickly filled with a familiar feeling - a hot rush of anger morphing into rage, quickly followed by the feeling of his aether stirring around him.
A primal, feral shout left him in the next moment. The hammer was the first to go, thrown with violent intent to his right, where it imbedded itself in the wall. He surrounded himself in the familiar flames called forth so easily by now, focusing his frustration at first on the metal on the anvil before him.
His flames, under control but barely, quickly flared into a localized inferno, jumping to what it could to fuel itself. The now near-molten metal was shoved from the anvil to the floor, and Mahji turned as if to leave the forge entirely, to go find some other target, something he could really tear into - only to falter quite suddenly. His flames, raging one moment, near-extinguish in the next.
He stumbled a step and then dropped to his knee, feeling breathless and shaky. He rested one hand on the ground and the other on his knee as he tried to gather himself. There was distinct scent of burnt wood, and the forge was hotter than normal - which was impressive in his own right.
Slowly, he worked his way back to his feet. On the floor was the pile of metal he had reheated to near liquid state. In the wall was the head of the hammer he had been working with - the handle burned away. In fact, the burnt wood was nearly all the handles of his tools. Luckily, he had been intelligent enough to not keep more than scrap paper in the forge, and to have it built with stone and metal.
Still, some of the stone was blackened, and the metal surfaces too. He swallowed hard and ran a hand back through his braids, and now the pit in his stomach was filled with a cold, creeping fear. He knew what had happened - because he recognized it for what it was. But he didn’t remember doing it.
It was getting worse. There was no one harming Lefay, or someone else he cared for, to trigger it. He hadn’t even been in a fight.
The blade had shattered. His temper had flared. Everything else was blurry.
