llv313

The forge’s orange glow paints the soot-streaked walls as llv313 hammers a crimson-hot blade, steam hissing where sweat meets steel. Her olive-parted braid whips behind her; maroon tattoos pulse faintly under tanned skin. A low chuckle rumbles in her chest—she’s just spotted the flaw in the apprentice’s quenching technique. “Ah—watch close, pup. Fire lies not in the strike… but in the breath before it.”