Silver Blades: Plate Male

Two

Ivy.

In half a drip, my scimitar gleamed like a silver mirror. Flower Boy's lovely friend lifted the blade from the potion, removed the wires, wiped it with a rag, and handed it over. I know spark-all about a'shee magic, but damn me, it worked. And I didn't see any radiance used in the process.

"But fortune, that's pretty," I said, and whistled appreciatively. "Why not turn the whole town to silver while yer at it?"

"It hasn't been transformed," D'Argent chuckled, voice all sultry and girl-slaying. "We have merely used an alchemical process to bond a solution of silver to the steel beneath. It will not withstand heavy use, and it works better with copper, but it will kill lycanthropes."

"I don't know what ya jus' said," I smirked, caught up in his stormy eyes, "but yer work is as pretty as you are, and I'd happily dance with either one of ya."

"Ahem," Tulip interrupted, doing that fake throat clearing thing to get noticed. "We should be going ... there is a fight outside."

"Firs, it need ti be shirpen," the ashy said, as he hopped down from his strange contraption. He waddled over to me and took the sword back, a monstrous curve of silver in his tiny hands. The sword was longer than he was.

He—Middle-of-the-poo, or whatever the spark his name was—took it to a grinder and began working the foot pedal. Sparks flew as metal kissed the spinning stone.

"Be there in a sec," I told Tulip, shooing him away.

He paused, suspicious eyes darting from me to D'Argent, until another crash from outside shook the building.

"Go!" I told him. "Yer boyfriend needs you."

"Droll," he mocked, and took up his own silver sword, already plenty sharp. "Catch up if you can."

"Midgidelipu and I will work on more weapons," D'Argent called after Tulip as he dashed out. "Return later, if you are able."

"Miss?" the little inventor said, interrupting my study of the radiance swirling in D'Argent's eyes. My sword was done; it seemed I had been staring for a while. My teeth closed with an audible click.

"Allow me," the silversmith said, taking up my sword back and handing it to me. His fingers brushed against mine.

"Don't fall for me, pretty boy," I grinned as I slid my sword back into its sheath. "I'd break ya right in two."

"Live through the night and I would like to place a wager on that," he laughed musically.

"Ay-yai..." the ashy groaned, throwing his hands in the air with an elaborate eye roll, and sulked off toward his work bench. "Tilvens." I shrugged and gave D'Argent a wink. The half-pint cynic wasn't wrong.

"Luck and good hunting, Miss Ivy," Ginnilis said in farewell. I couldn't seem ta shake a grin as I stepped out into the cool night air. 

Outside, Riposte Clasicant and Flower Boy were struggling with a massive lizard.

There were signs of the brief but destructive battle everywhere. Claw sized gouges were taken out of several nearby stone walls and there were long tears in the road where cobbles were scraped in furrows from the pavement. The monster had smoking, silver inflicted wounds in its chest and arms and was circling my temporary allies warily.

Clasicant wasn't faring much better. His left shoulder hung at an odd angle, and his rapier was up in a defensive stance to keep the long-armed monster at bay. Tulip was moving in measured steps, trying to get at a flank unseen.