The clang of a hammer was the sound not of it being used, but being set aside, perhaps in response to Heathen's voice.
A moment later, a black-robed figure swept into view, head lightly tilted in polite curiosity.
The Blacksmith pressed his hands before him, offering a slight bow. His voice came soft and likewise polite, a stark contrast to the rumbling confidence of the Collector, yet with the same precise enunciation. "Hello," he called. "Please, do come in. Are you, ah, looking for me?" And then he'd stepped aside, to make room among that cluttered, well-loved space.
He seemed unaware of the conversation that had gone on amongst the near-hellfire below. Instead, his demeanor was gently oblivious as he asked, "We have met--yes?" There were a few of the spotted feline predators about; it wasn't always easy for him to tell them apart, but stone and magic was a guide. He was fairly certain that, at the very least, this one had been there for the awakening of Centaurus and its Dreamer--but had they met, aside from that?
@Heathen
The Blacksmith stood quiet, hands gently pressed together before him, his head tilted very slightly. Otherwise, he was unmoving, every aspect of his body language indicating polite and genuine attention to Heathen and his words.
As for what he'd been working on, there were several hammers and anvils laid here and there. But the large anvil to his right, the one he'd stepped away from, held a number of metal buckles between four and seven or so inches in width. It seemed he'd been shaping them, or correcting faults, or repairing damage to them--something of the sort.
"I would like that. I do enjoy visitors," he smiled, in response to Heathen's assurance that they would now undergo a proper introduction.
Ahh, but his question-! The Blacksmith blinked behind his mask, leaning back a little. He was silent a moment before he spoke. "A very good question!" he assured. "I had not really... considered it, before," with a pause for breath mid-sentence. "Please remember I have existed... on a time frame that would be... likely difficult for you to imagine. At least... I assume so," he amended, eyeing Heathen. He wasn't sure Heathen was one of the creatures that had emerged only since the Great Awakening, he could not be certain, and such assumptions would be rude. "But I think... yes, most things I have created... I would remember. The important ones," he agreed, with a nod. "Maybe even... the rest. Why? Is there something in particular... some creation... that you are trying to research?"
His words were bright with interest. This was promising to be a fascinating visit!
@Heathen
The Blacksmith shook his head. "I am known mostly as... The Blacksmith. That is all right," he added. It was not dismissive; rather, he seemed to simply accept that this was how both knew him. He might have elaborated, but now he was glancing back at his work, thinking.
"I was not doing much that you might find interesting, but perhaps... I could show you something? If there was a... hmm. A certain type of work... that you wished to learn, or see?" It was an offer gently given, his head tipping to one side as he peered amiably back to his visitor. "In any case, it is good to meet you, Heathen. I have... tea, if you wish it," and here he gestured back at a small table with chairs set into a little alcove set up as a kitchen. "But--please, do tell me... what were you seeking information on?" This, too, was no demand: more an invitation to return to whatever had brought Heathen here to begin with.
@Heathen
The Blacksmith had barely turned to lift the kettle onto a small hot stone when Heathen explained why he was there.
The kettle almost toppled from his grip; he fumbled it, then placed it carefully atop the plate, and went very still. He did not turn back to Heathen, for a moment. Instead, at length, his head bowed just a little. "Yes."
Hands moved now automatically, lethargically, as he retrieved a cloth-wrapped pinch of leaves and placed them into the kettle, which at once began to gurgle. He turned to face Heathen, his tone sad. "So it is open, then-? Yes, I forged them. By necessity--by demand. Command," he amended, and then gently shook his head. He seemed to stare off into the middle distance for a moment, thinking.
"As for why he was... 'gained.' His purpose is to... change Centaurus. He is linked to places... far from here. He wanders the stars. And he Dreams. He gives these Dreams to his Shapers, and they Shape. Centaurus is a... place of training, you see. And as it is Dreamed and Shaped... differently, each time. It makes for good training. The Hounds who come there... They do not know if they will face a desert or a swamp. Mountains, or a canyon. A barren moon. You see-? But that is... the only reason he is chained. To keep him there. So he may Dream."
It had taken him a moment to slowly work his way through all of that, and he turned back to the hissing kettle, setting down two cups (both beautiful porcelain, one with old cracks that had been repaired with threads of shimmering gold) and poured the tea in. "I do not know if... Dreaming, Shaping... is even needed, anymore."
He set the kettle down, and brought the teacups over. He sat, pushing one lightly toward Heathen. "It needs a moment to cool."
@Heathen