Blacksmith (on hold)

1: Generations United

*This is just a preview of whats to come, let me know what you think <3 Love you guysssss 

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My father taught me everything I know about blacksmithing. We worked on weapons and tools together from time to time. Once I reached the required age I would be able to become the town blacksmith. Like my father is today. Most women kept their hair short when in the workforce. Shaved up the sides and slightly longer on the top. Hair color varied on the job you had, blacksmith's hair was always white. Soldiers hair was gray. Bakers hair was a lightish pink. When someone was born, their hair was brown, and as they chose an occupation, their hair slowly changed into its appropriate color.  My mother is a tailor, so her hair is a light lilac color. 

But this morning was the same as it always was. I rolled lazily out of bed, pushed my hair back out of my face and started my morning. Once my teeth were brushed and my body clothed; I padded quietly down the carpeted stairs. My workshop was just down the road located on a small beach. My mother was still asleep and my father was already at his shop in the center of town. People usually came to me first for weapons, my father was more skilled in making tools. I had just got the fire going when a girl trotted up to my stand. She looked impatient as she knocked on the counter top a few times. "Hey, uh. I really need a sword... or something." Perplexed, I moved closer to the counter, her hair was a lightish pink. Solider. So her need for a sword kinda makes sense, but why would she just use an automatic combat rifle like the rest of them? "May I ask why you need a sword when you're clearly a soldier?" She hesitated before explaining herself. "Umm yea well, There's this girl, I really like her. But she's always using swords in battle and combat training. She has this massive collection-" I couldn't help but smile at the girls stuttering. I simply nodded and began to work on a badass sword that would win her crush over. I had a secret way of crafting weapons one, not even my father can master. A sprinkle of gold flakes on the hilt of the sword gave it a certain power that would be determined depending on the user. The blade was elongated and shining. The hilt wasn't too light or too heavy and she should be able to handle it just fine. I pulled it out of the flames one last time before spraying it down with the hose. 

Her eyes gleamed at the sight of it. "Now, this sword will swing itself and show you how to properly wield it. But as soon as you figure out how to swing it by yourself, it will simply let that aspect go. At that point, you'll be fighting like a champ. That is if you practice enough. Now get out of here, go get your girl." She squealed and ran away in the other direction. I sighed a happy sigh and went back to work on a new sword for myself. The molten metal warmed my skin and brought a wide smile on my face. Pulling the work in progress out of the flames, I used my authentication stamp to grave the still hot metal. My mark was now on the sword. I used tools to make the hilt out of less heated metal. The black color of the hilt looked like new charcoal. The matte material felt rugged in my hands. I plunged the blade into water to cool it. 

It felt like my tattoos might melt off of me from the fire, but the ink stayed embedded in my skin. My arms and back were covered in ink, little skin showing through. I had a badass skull and rose tattoo on my thigh. It took up most of my thigh and was done in all black ink. My forearms were completely free of tattoos, for now. While the blade was cooling, I ran my fingers through my white hair. It suited me I think. My mother always said I could break a lot of hearts one day. She claimed I was the most beautiful girl in the world. Of course, I never believed her, I always thought that there would almost always be someone better than you, maybe even prettier. My mother makes me laugh every time she tells me that there is no one better looking than me. 

My father was usually at his shop in the center of town, where people usually requested things from him. Occasionally you had the oddball that only wanted things that I made. My blade was done cooling. I dried it off and attached it to the hilt. There she was, a beautiful piece of craftsmanship by yours truly, me.