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To say Cole was angry would have been quite the understatement. He was furious, and the hedge around his hollow reflected it. The environment became slightly warmer, and the tips of some thorns started to smolder as his anger built. It was a small space, but it had allowed the Forgemaster to perform his craft in relative peace.
Which was fortunate, considering the amount of noise he was about to make. raw materials were tossed, surfaces were kicked in until they broke, experimental creations either snapped in twain or bent beyond recognition. Anything that wasn't nailed down was thrown- several of his tools ended up tossed in the chaos. A good fuming session later, and having just about run out of things to break, Cole turned to the unfinished forge- almost complete, just needing time to make. Beside it was the workspace, now missing half a leg and the tools that had sat upon it. His wrath had finally simmered down, enough for a bit of clarity to take hold.
It took a good thirty minutes, to collect what had been thrown around. Materials put in neat-enough piles, broken creations tossed with them to be recycled, along with the furniture that was destroyed beyond repair. Tools were gathered and placed on the tilting work station. With that done, Cole began the process of finally completing his forge.
Tempered. That was the key- unfocused wrath would always burn out. But strike it, shape it, focus it, and tempered wrath could become a corona. When the last stone was set in place, the final tool hung up, the stunted worspace leg supported by a broken haft, and the forge finally completed... Cole lit the flames, heated a piece of hedge thorn until it could be shaped, set it upon the anvil, and went to work.
A single strike with the hammer, and sparks erupted from the red-hot thorn. As he went to work, his strikes became harder- more sparks, and eventually small flames, erupted from the wyrd-stuff.
The True Fae were the ultimate goal, the real enemy, and the new Summer King had practically MOCKED the idea of ever bringing the fight to them. Dismissed it as some fever dream. Treated Cole as little more than an idealistic child.
The King didn't share his goals? Fine.
*CLANG*
The courts wouldn't be strong enough? FINE.
*CLANG*
Cole's dream, Cole's ideal, was FUTILE?! FUCKING. FINE!
*CLANG*
Cole would NEVER give up on his dream....
....But as tempted as he may have been, he still needed the court's Wrath. Still needed Summer, the purpose it gave- even if his interpretation of it differed slightly from the new king's. So the forgemaster would stick around, and play his part. Much of their goals would likely be aligned anyways- for quite some time. The metalflesh took a deep breath, and continued to work on the heated thorn, heating it further with every strike.
The Spring coronation was around the corner. As forgemaster, Cole would be remiss if he didn't bring a gift to represent his purpose. Something grand was outside of his talents for now... But a small piece would do well. The Hedge reacted to those within- that much was clear. While Cole didn't yet understand why, he could imagine that function... Mold it into his creation...
The thorn was "molten" at this point, though for hedge-stuff it somehow remained cool enough to touch. Cole set the hammer down and shaped the material with his hands. Eyes closing, the image in his mind becoming clear. A spring flower, shifting colors with the seasons- a beautiful design, with little details filling themselves out in his head, fingers tracing it out, trying to keep the material's natural properties intact.
3 successes
By the time he opened up, the gift was complete. Cole, finally satisfied, took a deep breath- the process had taken longer than he thought, and it'd been a long day.
But all in all? It was satisfactory, for now. And that was a good enough place for Cole, in the end.
Cole now has his workshop, and is set to (hopefully) have a more civil Freehold Ceremony this time around. Yay!
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