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BRUN AND FIORA'S HOUSE - AFTERNOON
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Fiora has been working diligently to navigate the house. Her pygmy possom body certainly makes things a challenge, but Fiora is nothing if not up to a challenge. This has resulted in a rather... unorthodox excercise regime, as she pushed Brunilda out to get her to stop fretting about the transformation, and then taken it upon herself to set up... an obstacle course of sorts through the living room, one which she has been pushing herself through several times to get the hang of this new form.
Dyvrisse: As time has moved on, Dyvrisse has reflected on her battle with the one known as "Fury". Namely, the armour - far more formidable than her own. Something that Dyvrisse wants to learn how to create for herself, enough so that her mistrust and pride is set aside enough to enter Respite. Despite her stature, she finds herself apprehensive and nervous amongst the winding streets and citizenry of Respite. She asks for directions to "Fury" many times, struggling to navigate the town. Eventually, however, she is finally led to her destination. She knocks gently on the door indicated to her.
Fiora halts in her progress when she hears the knock. She's expecting Brun to come home, but that knock sounds a little too high? Shrugging, she heads towards the door, "One sec, this is uh... new challenge." It takes a moment for her to climb up to get the door open (aided by a stack of some of Brun's thick tech books that they set up earlier, but at last she gets the handle, the door swinging open before she drops off to stare up at the towering saur at the door. "Uh... can I help-" Her eyes flash with a recognition. "-You. You! Dyvrisse!"
Dyvrisse: Dyvrisse visibly flinches upon hearing her name. While she maintains she did what she had to in order to protect innocent lives from The Whisperer, she's still not, and never was, proud of anything that occurred at Yzzayt's Abyss. The recognition wounds her, evident in her sorrowful expression and tone. ". . .Apologies, little one. I did not mean to alarm you. I was told this was the house of Fury."
Fiora crosses her arms, "Yeah, well, this is it. You here for a revenge match? I'll be honest, any other time I'd take you up on that... I still feel like shit for that fight, especially after how I heard the rest of the war went..."
Dyvrisse: Dyvrisse shakes her head, then narrows her eyes some at the tiny critter. ". . .I am not. Little one, why do you speak as if you are her?"
Fiora tilts her head. "You're not? Huh... uh, well, now I'm curious. And I talk like I'm her cause I am her! It's Fiora, by the way. Fury is just my work name. If I can intimidate folks into surrendering with just a name, it saved me time. Not that I'm intimidating anywone like this right now." She waves a hand down her body, "Magic accidents, you know? You... might not know. Occupational hazard for house work here in Respite, it seems."
Dyvrisse: "Yes. . .I recall the name Fiora. The Furious One. But. . ." Dyvrisse doesn't quite seem to grasp the concept of magical accidents causing something like this. She crosses her arms, ". . .You are not her." She sighs, "Perhaps punishment? Dyvrisse understands. Foolish to come."
Fiora steps forward through the door frame to glare up at Dyvrisse, almost more offended that she doesn't believe her than the idea that she might have come seeking revenge. "What? I think I would know who I am! Not my fault you came at a bad time. Foolish to come? Yeah, maybe! You broke my damn leg with that tail of yours! It got better, thank you very much. I'm not really mad honestly, shit happens in a battle. Honestly you did more damage to me than anyone else ever managed... I'd have surrendered if I was in a position too... or more likely have died if things had turned out differently." She pauses for a moment, looking down. "I'm a damn good fighter, when I'm not a magically-transformed foot tall possom. You had me beat, fair and square. I'm not too big to admit that." She's not too big to do much of anything right now.
Dyvrisse: Despite the hilarious size difference, it is Dyvrisse who is taken aback by the sudden near-aggression from Fiora. She uncrosses her arms to better look down at Fiora stepping closer. ". . .Forgive me. I am still skeptical. Yet, I see in you the same spark as her." Dyvrisse pauses, considering. If this critter is telling the truth, then what she has come to seek will reveal it regardless. Therefore, the only course... "Perhaps you are, Furious One. Much reflection upon that fight. Unfortunate circumstances. Would. . ." She hesitates, taking in a deep breath, "Did not come to fight, gloat, approval. Wish to ask something."
Fiora takes a breath and calms herself down, "Ugh, sorry... I've thought about that fight a lot too..." She shakes her head solemnly. "Must be some question if you've come all this way to find me here. Go ahead and ask, I'll answer as best I can."
Dyvrisse: "Armour, Armanents of Respite. Stronger anything Saurs provide. Yours, strongest. How did you make it? Wish to learn. Improve."
Fiora hums, glancing up at Dyvrisse as she considers. "You Saurs mostly worked with leather and bone, yeah? Some basic metals? The folks here have forges set up to melt metals at very high temperatures. We mix metals to make them stronger, fold them and shape them. We use those techniques for tools, armor, and weapons all. But my Armor... she's something special. My Mom was one of those blacksmiths, and she taught me everything she knew." She sighs, glancing away from Dyvrisse into the far distance. "She wanted me to take over her forge. I wanted 'adventure'. I forged that armor alone when I was barely an adult. Poured everything she taught me into it to make it strong. To make it intimidating. Everytime I came back from a fight, I tried to figure out what went wrong, and how to better protect myself. I'd go back and break it down; reforge the pieces stronger. I learned how to make it fit better over time too. Even paid a good deal of money to Mage Guilds to enchant the metal. That's the only reason I survived your little lightning stunt."
Dyvrisse: Dyvrisse nods, "Yes, leather, bone, metal." She affirms, falling into silence to listen. "Curious. These processes. These properties. Folding. Mixing. En. . .Chant?" She speaks unsure of the word. "Can you teach Dyvrisse?"
Fiora remains silent for a moment, closing her eyes, clearly a bit torn, "Sometimes they don't feel like my techniques to teach. There's other folks in town who could probably teach you smithing better than I could."
Dyvrisse: Dyvrisse looks unhappy with the answer, though not from a place of anger. "Dyvrisse. . .Uneasy, in town. Respite. Painful enough asking people for Furious One. Can Furious One introduce? Wish, want, avoid others."
Fiora hums. "...don't know if Cavro really wants to talk to me after I sorta threatened to kill him... I mean, I was joking, but I don't know if he knew that." She sighs. "Alright, maybe. First, tell me why do you want to learn to make stronger weapons, hmm?"
Dyvrisse: Dvyrisse sighs. "Furious One judging character?"
Fiora snorts, breaking into a laugh. "Okay... that's a fair accusation. More just... curious. I dunno. My Mom would probably hate it if I taught her techniques to someone who used them poorly. But I've probably used them pretty poorly for selfish ends, so I'm definitely not one who can judge."
Dyvrisse: Fiora lightening up seems to bring Dvyrisse off edge. She chooses to divulge, "Dyvrisse, others alike. Weapons, armour. More than tools. Extension of self. To extend self, must create self. Make for others, grave insult. Learn, grow, strength, worth." Dvyrisse glances away. "Yzzayt. . .Lose one belief. Lose purpose. Dyvrisse wish to not lose other. Furious One, Respite, Much to learn."
Fiora considers that, nodding. "Our cultures are different... our smiths are highly skilled, and make tools for others when others cannot. But the rest... Mom always said a Blacksmith leaves a little bit of themself in every piece they craft. You can't work a forge without imbueing the work with a little bit of who you are. Your intentions and your will go into the crucible along with the metal. If your heart isn't in the work, the work will be inferior. And my armor is a part of me. Alright... I'll teach you."
Dyvrisse: Dyvrisse nods, slowly and thankfully. She was unsure whether or not Fiora would want to help before she made her pilgrimage to Respite. "Relieved. Most grateful. When. . ." She consider's Fiora's 'magic accident', ". . .You are better? Normal?"
Fiora glances down at herself and nods, "Would... probably be easier then, yeah. It's like a sickness caused by magic, and we just gotta find the cure... gonna talk to my sister about that, she's good with cures."
Dyvrisse: Dyvrisse nods again. "Will stay with other Saurs. Find, when better." Dvyrisse pauses. ". . .Strong, Furious One. To leave past behind. To mend, better future. Hope cure is found."
Fiora sighs, "Not sure I've left it as far behind as I'd like... but I try. I'll find you then, Dyvrisse. Good luck to you as well."
Dyvrisse: "Understandable." Dyvrisse agrees, offering Fiora a polite bow. . .Which probably just looks like she's leaning down to eat Fiora. Oops. With that, she leaves.
Fiora scurries back perhaps a bit too quickly, pushing the door closed with a considerable effort as Dyvrisse leaves. She leaves her 'obstacle course' alone for the moment as she walks back to one of the spare rooms of their house where she is currently keeping her armor. She walks up to put her hand on the shinplate, feeling the cold metal beneath her strange hand and thinks back to a past she's left behind.