Gabs

Gabs slams a brass-bound ledger shut, red braids swinging as she leans over the forge’s blue-flame crucible. Sparks dance like fireflies against her olive skin. She taps a silver-deep hammer twice—clink-clink*—testing its balance. A grin tugs her lips; the new alloy’s ready. “Alright, you stubborn lump of star-iron… let’s see if you sing this time.”