4382/Shaping Steel

Shaping Steel
Date of Scene:	03 August 2016
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	At Sir Bedivere's request, Toph Beifong visits Dun Realtai to repair a suit of armour.
Cast of Characters:	482, 20

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Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  One can almost forget that the region of Dun Realtai has endured such hardship, and that the land is so scarred beneath a covering of new greenery. Farmers are waiting the last few weeks for harvest-time, and the people are generally going about their business.

  The village square is a mostly empty plaza of cobbled stone and larger buildings facing inward, like the inn and the blacksmith's. Most of the people are out working the fields, though, or preparing their homes and businesses for the upcoming harvest. The square itself is pretty empty thanks to that.

  Next to the dry and empty fountain, Bedivere's set up shop, carefully stacking his damaged armour on the ground next to the fountain's lip. He himself perches on the lip itself, absently plucking at the strings of a harp that looks as battered as his armour. He's wearing cooler clothing than his armour; perhaps lifted from some modern thrift shop -- a white short-sleeved shirt, beige slacks, and scuffed but functional, comfortable boots. His hair is tied back in its usual way, half-braided around the side of his head and gathered back through a single bronze cuff. In his left ear is a red stone stud; one that Toph would recognise Saber wearing -- in her right ear.

  He plays absently as he waits, fingers absently running over the strings, sometimes half-humming along to some old tune or another.

  Flopped beside him is the otherworldly hound-like creature, Kepas; like a white greyhound the size of a draft horse (or a small badgermole), with a skull-like face and yellow points of light in his otherwise empty eye sockets. Despite his unsettling appearance (and his strange feel to senses like Toph's, too light for a thing his size), he's just sprawled there like a bored dog, the bones of his jaws laid down on his almost dainty paws.

  What an odd pair the two make... but let's be honest; Dun Realtai lends itself to oddness.

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    Even if Toph has been busy with her new project in Yu Dao, it's not like she doesn't have time for her other friends and allies. Especially not when Bedivere asks for her assistance in mending some armour. The people in the Union are well aware of Toph's pride when it comes to her metalbending, and how she loves showing off and using it, especially if it can help others.

    Her arrival is as usual a bit loud as she comes barging in with her earthbending, an earthen wave seen from the distance. By now the people should know well enough just who it is that arrives in this manner, and that she's not here to antagonise anybody. Except for people who tend to grass and flowers, that is.

    The earthen wave dies off as Toph kicks down into it and leaps forward through the gates, landing in a steady crouch before she rises to her full height, brushing off some dust from her clothes.

    And she looks awfully cheerful as she steps forward, a big friendly grin on her face as she waves to Bedivere and the large hound. "Heya Buddyvere! And Kepas!" Yeah, she remembers that big beast, and how he tried to play with the badgermoles when she brought them here last year. At least the farmers ought to have it easier this year with their own badgermoles clearing the fields. Though they probably won't be useful during the harvest.

    "Been practising your harp huh? Good, the badgermoles ought to like that," she notes, walking up the armour before she flops down on her butt with a pensive look on her face, reaching out to study the metal.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
#-1 FUNCTION (PSACE) NOT FOUNDThe harp strikes a sour note as the man wielding it jumps a little, but that's just because any sudden, loud noise tends to jangle his nerves. He has been expecting Toph, and on some level he knows her arrival's going to be loud. It always is.

  Putting the harp aside, he dusts his hands, at about the same time Kepas picks up his head, yawning silently. Where most dogs might have a big pink tongue lolling, or make a bit of a whine as they yawn, Kepas is silent.

  She might hear his tail thumping on the ground, though. Yeah, he's happy to see her too.

  Bedivere lifts a hand in greeting, though there's a slight twinge of annoyance at the irreverent title. He's never going to change her mind about /that/, though, and so he otherwise ignores it.

  "Only in that I have been playing it. I do not specifically seek to 'practise.' Besides," he adds, shrugging and eyeing it. "It is not mine." Sure sounds like the one that had been his, but... he'd presented it to Arturia. It's hers, now. Not that anyone knows that; he's neglected to tell anybody that part. "In any case, thank you for arriving so quickly."

  He sets the harp aside, carefully balancing it on the stone lip of the fountain, before kneeling and sorting out some of the armour from the pile. Breastplate, backplate, gauntlets, pauldrons, greaves, and others lie carefully stacked. It's all of the pieces of steel that fit together to transform him from a quiet and soft-spoken man into the imposing Left Hand of the King, and Marrshal of the Realm; though perhaps his authority here is a little less than that. There are no armies here to answer to him, and he would prefer to keep it that way.

  If Toph inspects the armour, she'll find that almost every piece is weakened. It's been battered and crushed and then subsequently repaired again so many times that one can only imagine the injuries /Bedivere/ must have suffered to have been through all that. Almost all of it has been hammered out so that it's wearable, but it's obvious that the armour's seen some heavy damage.

  "If you've any way at all to reshape this as it once was -- you can determine what that was, I think, with some cursory examination -- I would be most grateful." He settles on the lip of the fountain, letting her inspect it on her own. "I dare not hammer it again by hand; it has been through enough. If this will not work, I fear the only thing for it is to smelt it and have it forged anew. It is... somewhat sentimental to me, though, and I would prefer not to do that unless there remain no other alternatives."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    No, there's no chance of Toph revoking that nickname anytime soon. It says so much, and well.. Toph likes Bedivere, and she considers him a friend, a buddy. So Buddyvere. The thumping of Kepas' tail doesn't escape her notice, and she looks amused.

    "Hmmm?" she muses, arching an eyebrow. "It sounds like the one you used before..." Oh well. It's of little importance to her either way. So it's time to turn to the armour.

    It's easy enough to tell that the armour is worn and weak in places, and she purses her lips a bit, frowning. Though it's clear she's concentrating as she studies the metal with her bending. She does hear Bedivere as he speaks, and she nods once before she runs her fingers over the various pieces of armour. "I can tell what it was like... and it should be easy enough to reinforce it if you have enough metal for me to add to it," she assures him. "Smelting it down won't be necessary." Sentimental items she can understand well enough, it's not like she doesn't have them as well.

    "Okay," she begins and holds up the breastplate. "If you have some metal here then I can work on this and get it all done within the hour!" All in all she looks rather optimistic about this work.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  "It is not so complicated a pattern," Bedivere observes, picking up an articulated gauntlet and eyeing it. "Mayhap the materials were a little more rich than most, and the ornamentation more careful, but the same basic design was one favoured by most Knights of the Round. It offered good protection, yet it was not too heavy; we were able to move well in it."

  Actually, he moves shockingly fast in a full suit of plate armour, so it probably goes beyond stripping down the weight of the armour itself. He practised long and hard to be able to be so agile.

  Carefully, the knight sets the gauntlet back down. "More steel? Aye, the smithy has some. I had had a few ingots set aside, just in case. Hold a moment; I'll fetch them."

  He's gone in a moment to one of the buildings just off the square; when he returns, it's with three fair-sized bars of steel in his arms, straining to set them down easily beside the armour. They sound extremely solid when they hit the ground. Clunk. "Will this do?"

  It's well-made steel, perhaps not the absolute finest quality, but whatever metallurgist made these knew what they were doing. There's still enough impurity in them that Toph can work with them; enough to strike a balance between the metal's flexibility, strength, and the ability to shape it without /breaking/ it.

  Of course, most people in Dun Realtai don't use /Toph's/ methods, so their measure of strength is a little different...

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    "The pattern I can remake easily enough, especially if you can tell me if I'm doing it right or if I need to define it more or not," Toph nods reassuringly to Bedivere. It's the trick, isn't it? Keeping the armour thick but still light enough for a man to carry around. Not that it seems that Bedivere has ever been slowed down by his armour from what she can tell.

    When he returns with the ingots Toph is eager to pick one of them up, feeling the weight in her hands with a slight grunt. "Yeah, this seems solid enough... I can blend it with the other metal, and that will reinforce the metal and add strength to it. It will be slightly thicker, but I assume that's what you want, right?" she inquires, holding up one ingot towards the inside of the beastplate.

    Slowly the ingot begins to creak, and Toph twists her hand, pressing the metal into the plate before she begins running her hand over the metal. It shapes into a layer inside the breastplate as Toph sits there, an expression of concentration on her face as she works slowly. It's clearly a task she takes seriously, making it clear she respects the sentimental value the armour has to Bedivere. "So do you want the decorations to be a bit more defined? They seem to have been thinned out..." she asks.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  This ought to be an interesting spectacle. The smiths of Albion and beyond were skilled in working certain metals without heating them in a forge, but steel was not one of those metals; it took too much heat to soften it and make it pliable. Gold and silver were another matter, and copper could be worked with nothing more than pliers and hammer, but steel...

  He's seen her bend metal before, of course, but this is different. This time she's working on his very symbol of knighthood; the very sigil that had made the Left Hand of the King what he was in Albion. When he'd put on that suit of steel, it had shown to the world around him that his authority was second only to the king.

  In its own way, it had also been a gift from the king, and that in itself made it valuable to him.

  Settling back on the lip of the fountain and gathering up the old harp, he rests his chin over its battered wood frame to watch Toph get down to business.

  He considers her question for a moment, rubbing at the line of his jaw with one hand. "That would not be unwise. I have greater threats to consider in the multiverse than the battle-axes of the Sea Wolves. Saxon weapons are the least of my concerns, now." Bedivere allows himself a thin smile. Honestly, he's doubtful that steel would save him if he were caught unawares by something that dramatically outclassed him, which is honestly just about everything in the multiverse. It'll make the people that know him feel a little better, though, so it's worth it just for that.

  "If you wish." Bedivere sighs, regarding the ornamentation; the sound is a little morose. "I would honestly prefer naught at all, but I suppose Master Merlin would protest that I must look the part of a lord, whom the people can look up to and be inspired by." He has a point, even if Bedivere is so painfully self-depreciating. "Perhaps I will have a touch of colour applied, later. Enamel, or something of its sort; such techniques do not seem to be so costly as they were in Albion. I will direct you where necessary, but I trust your judgement. Even if you cannot see the armour, you can feel it, and that, I think, counts better than eyes."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    Toph doesn't know the full importance of armour and what it looks like, nor the symbol it displays to people. For her armour is protection, practical and pragmatic as she is. Her focus is intense as she 'sees' the earth in the armour and the steel she's adding to it. Perhaps Bedivere will see it as the metal shifts, a slight bleeding of the colour in the armour as the steel blends into it, creaking as Toph moves her hands steadily, her fingers tensing as she works.

    "Yeah, it's better to be safe. I mean, what would people here in Dun Realtai do without you? They wouldn't have you to be huffy and stern, and well... Kepas and the badgermoles would miss you for sure," she teases. "At least you got us watching your back for you." The Union all seems to care for him, even if they do tease him from time to time.

    Decorations aren't that necessary in Toph's opinion either. At worst some of it might even weaken the armour, but that is something that she can easily fix. At the mention of Merlin she smirks, and she shifts her hands along the decorations, the metal shaping itself as if it were clay in her fingers. Stubborn clay. "Merlin seems opinionated, all right... though really, colour?" No, she doesn't seem to think much of that. "Armour is supposed to protect you, not to be pretty. Youre not a noble lady, are you?" Slowly the decorations in the armour become more defined, and it should be clear that Toph can imagine what it used to look like easily enough. At the same time she makes sure to reinforce certain areas, all to make it sturdier.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  The knight seems a little tense as he watches Toph coax impurities and cracks out of his old armour, shaping it back to the way it was twenty years ago. Maybe not quite; there were subtle ornamentations that weren't there, before, but it's whole again, and that's more than could be said of it before. It's still strange to see solid steel armour shaped and molded like so much wet clay.

  Solemnity is a cornerstone of his personality; so he ignores her jabs about it, or about his huffiness. It's a little irritating to be constantly chided about it from multiple people, so he reacts to it the same way he reacts to anything that irritates him. He ignores it.

  She might hear Kepas' tail thumping at the sound of his name, but it may just be because he heard his name. Probably. Maybe. Nobody's quite sure how smart that thing really is.

  "Master Merlin is opinionated about a great many things," Bedivere says, with some resignation, "but there is often truth in his opinions. And I am not talking about anything overwhelming," he adds, frowning. "Just a touch, here and there, to denote that the one wearing it is a knight of rank. Hm... perhaps you can ask Sir Gawain to show you his armour. You cannot see the colour on it, but perhaps you would be able to sense it; it is chemically different from the steel around it." It's a flower motif, specifically. "Most of it is gone, but mine only had a bit of blue edging the breastplate, there." He reaches out to touch her hand, guiding it towards where the enamel is gone; where it had been battered too much to hold. His hands are callused and scarred; fingers long, but rough. "Most others did not."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    For Toph this is as easy as earthbending now after some years of practicing the art she invented. It also looks like she's greatly enjoying the work, most of her attention turned on the metal as it reacts to her movements. Even Kepas doesn't disturb her focus.

    She listens to Bedivere speak, it doesn't disturb her ability to work with the breastplate. So many knights have colour on their breastplate to indicate rank...? Heh, that might make sense to seeing people. When he reaches for her hand she lets him take it and guide it, and she furrows her brow slightly. "It did seem worn here," she agrees. "But when I'm done you should be able to tend to it now and then if you want. Though feel free to call me, I like working with metal." Which he should know, and also have confirmed now by the way she works. Once he lets go of her hand she looks like she is pensive. "If you want I could probably bend some coloured metal into it...?" she offers. It does look like she's nearly done with repairing the breastplate as she moves to the outer edges.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  "I suppose I could prepare lengths of coloured steel, or wire, and direct you where to apply them... but truly," Bedivere asides quietly, "it does not matter to me. It is not for myself that I would bother to add such things. A suit of armour is meant to protect, and inevitably it will be battered, its resolve tested as much as the one whom it guards."

  He folds his arms once he withdraws his hand, tilting his head slightly and watching Toph work. "I intend to. I only called you in because it had reached the point of no return. If I had tried to work the steel, I fear it would have broken. Steel can only withstand so much before it can no longer be worked normally. Every time it is bent out of shape and beaten back into shape, it loses something of itself." He sighs through his teeth, shaking his head. "Much like the men who wear it, truly."

  "Hm. Mayhap I could have you look at my sword, some time. It could do for a bit of strengthening--"

  Bedivere raises his brow. Kepas is off like a shot as soon as he says that, off toward the Citadel with alarming speed. He doesn't comment, though, shaking his head.

  "--As I was saying, it is the same sword I received as a knight-aspirant, before I was made knight. Most commissioned new swords upon winning their spurs, but I did not. It is old, and it is worn; I would think that a bit of reinforcement would freshen it up a bit."

  Kepas comes trotting back down the hill, and he has Bedivere's sword caught delicately between his teeth, like some kind of metal toothpick. He opens his jaws and spits it out, letting it clatter to the ground next to Toph and grinning that idiot doggy grin.

  Bedivere glances up at Kepas, and then down at the sword.

  "I really wonder how smart that creature is, sometimes."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    "To me it doesn't matter, I'm only offering. It's your armour, you decide." No, she's not one to care for appearances due to her blindness. It also doesn't seem to bother her that Bedivere is watching her work. "And yeah, I don't think you could fix this normally... it would shatter. So I'm one of the few people who can fix this," she agrees. And fixing armour isn't a bad job, really. Repairing swords as well doesn't sound bad either. "Oh yeah, I've noticed that your sword is pretty thin. If you get me the metal I can get that done the next time I visit. I do think some of the new people in the Union wanted to see my bending too..."

    Why not show off when she can?

    "The sword means a lot to you, huh...?" she ventures carefully, keeping her head still. Though when Kepas returns she blinks... and when he drops the sword she outright laughs! "Good boy!" she praises him, then points towards the forge. "Go get some steel, Kepas! Fetch!" She will need more to strengthen the sword, after all. Either way she holds up the breastplate towards Bedivere, looking awfully proud of herself. "Breastplate is done!" And she hands it over to him so he can inspect it, and she grabs for the next piece of armour to begin working on that.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  "I will see to it later. Best you worry only about the structure, this time." Bedivere takes up the harp, strumming a few idle notes on it. It's a meandering tune, one with a mysterious air to it; although the low notes seem almost halting, the higher notes lead the melody. It's soft, though, soft enough that he can speak over it. His eyes are still locked on his armour as she works. "I care more for function over form. So long as the armour holds under duress, that is all I have a care for."

  A few more notes play out, and he watches idly to see whether the hound will fetch a few ingots of steel or not. Kepas falls into the familiar play-bow of a dog that wants to play fetch, thrashing that whip-thin tail back and forth with his jaws wide open, as though eager to catch something.

  Go get smoe steel!

  Then, straightening, he trots into the blacksmith and comes back with another ingot locked in his jaws. When he dumps it at Toph's feet, it has the mark of a tooth in it, and it's absolutely frigid to the touch.

  He thrashes that tail again, falling into another play-bow. Now what?!

  Bedivere just shakes his head, setting aside the harp to take his breastplate, turning it this way and that to cast a critical eye over it. Although he can't examine it to the same level and depth that Toph can, he still knows this armour well, and he'll know if something's wrong with it. Apparently it meets his satisfaction. He sets it aside with a nod. "Well done. You've my thanks. It has not been so solid for nigh on twenty years, I think."

  Kepas, meanwhile, throws himself down, flopping beside Toph and nosing at a broken piece of the fountain's lip. A stone tumbles out, and he paws it over, settling to chew on it like a mastiff might chew on a bone.

  It's hard to tell whether it's just an idiot Fae dog, or a really smart Fae creature masquerading as an idiot Fae dog.

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    "So we agree on that," Toph smiles, listening to the harp music. It's kinda soothing, isn't it? She is quiet until Kepas returns, and when he does the blind teenager laughs again. "Good boy!" She does flinch when she touches the ingot though, blinking and letting out a yelp, shaking her hand. "Ouch! Man, does he breathe ice or something...?"

    Let's wait with using that one!

    When he thanks her and praises her work Toph nods, a pleased smile on her face. "You're welcome! I wouldn't want you to get injured, and I don't think the other Unionites would want that either." Especially not Saber.

    She doesn't mind Kepas resting next to her, it might help that she is blind. She can't be scared of creepy appearances, after all. She works quicker with the gloves and smaller pieces, and soon enough she picks up the sword. "Hmmm... I will have to blend a whole ingot into this one, I think... You want it the same length?" Better make sure, after all.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  "To the best of our knowledge, Kepas is some manner of elemental creature, and his alignment appears to be of a wintry persuasion." In other words, yeah, he pretty much does breathe ice. Instead of a dragon's internal furnace, Kepas has winter itself in his giant doggy heart. Does he even have a heart? That's probably a good question for the academics. "So. In a manner of speaking, yes. My sword should be decently warm; I have bound its hilt in leather. That ingot, however, has no such protections."

  Bedivere considers her comment with a bland expression. It's reasonably certain that Arturia wouldn't want him wounded. If it weren't a further risk to his health, she would probably inflict grievous bodily harm on him just for frightening her. The Good Lord knows there have been instances in the past where she's been a hair's breadth away from that.

  "No," he comments after a moment, "I do not think they would."

  He might be imagining the shadow of an angry Arturia looming behind him when he says that.

  "The same length," Bedivere confirms, even as he checks over one of the gauntlets. Admittedly, the gauntlets had been the least damaged of the pieces, and that's a blessing. They have the most moving parts and small components. "As close to the same heft and weight as you can come. I prefer a lighter sword; I am not at my best with a heavier blade in hand. I do not need the blade remade; I only need it reinforced, lest it break from constant grinding and honing."

  As though just remembering something she'd said earlier, he dips his head, briefly. "Aye. It does mean much to me." He points, indicating the sword in a gesture Toph can't see. "That blade, along with this armour, were granted to me by my king for my service to Camelot. They are gifts; and they are gifts that I cherish. I would not see them come to ruin if there is a means to prevent that, and your talent is just the key." Talk about a new lease on life, for metal objects. Bedivere allows himself one of those crooked half-smiles. "And it is, I might add, a fair sight better than having to smelt them down and forge them anew."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    "So he's a winter demon doggie," Toph nods with a chuckle. Hey, as long as he's not bothering anybody, then she won't mind him. The badgermoles weren't spooked by him, so that's good enough for her!

    "Saber really does care for you, so I'll do what I can to help keep you safe. I know you guys would do the same for me." It's good to have trust in your allies, and to know that they will keep an eye on your back.

    Sword and armour... it's what defines a knight, isn't it? Of physical objects. Items that allow you to fight and to help you keep people safe. It would be like imagining Tony without his Iron Man suits, Toph imagines. So to not take this seriously would be bad. Very bad, and disrespectful. She might call him Buddyvere, but she's not about to disrespect his sword. So he should be pleased to see that Toph studies the blade carefully with her hands, resting the sword in her lap as she studies the strength of the metal. "It will be slightly heavier, but not much. I will mix the metal in as best as I can and reinforce it, make it a bit more compact in places. That way it should be sturdier than most swords." There's something she's learned from studying Lloyd's swords a few times. It's easy to know just what makes a sturdy blade. For her it's easier to reinforce it in the right places. "Your armour and sword should be better than they have been," she reassures him. "Once I'm done with this it will serve you at least fourty years!" It's a hefty claim for sure, but it doesn't sound like she's joking.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  The canid creature seems to be a guardian spirit more than anything else, tied to the land and bound to protect its inhabitants. He also seems bound to guard the man who now looks after the region, guarding Bedivere as a mortal hound might guard its master. He just happens to be one or two hundred pounds heavier than a mortal hound. And maybe a lot smarter, too. Nobody's quite sure about that one.

  "Hm." Bedivere rubs at his jaw, head down. His hair hides his face, but it doesn't quite hide the flush of red. Yes, she cares for him, that's a good way to put it. "Aye. Thank you."

  He watches as she studies the blade with such intensity; although he doesn't say anything, there's a sense of approval that she's taking it so seriously. That sword means everything to him. When Sasaki Kojirou challenged him over it, he was willing to gamble his life to save it from a fatal strike that would have shattered it. It served him for many years, and it cut down many a Saxon sea-wolf.

  Still, her claim draws a faint chuckle from him. "If I am still fighting in forty years, my friend, I will be an old, old man. Already I feel like an old man. I've no doubt that I will be finished with fighting, by then, and have hung this blade up long before then... but I appreciate the sentiment, all the same."

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    The talk about being an old man draws a snort from Toph, who knocks slightly on the blade, listening to it. "Back at the end of the Hundred Year war I met an old guy who was 112, claimed he was the most powerful earthbender ever." From what Bedivere has heard on the radio he should be able to conclude just what Toph thought of that claim. "If you're stubborn enough you can fight until you're an old fart, and trust me... you're nearly as stubborn as a earthbender." It's meant to be a compliment, really.

    Finally Toph motions towards the ingot that Kepas fetched... and the metal shifts in the air, creaking as it peels off, the metal beginning to meet the sword. And with both hands Toph begins directing the new steel into the blade, her expression one of pure focus, and now and then she touches the blade, as if trying to sense any weaknesses in the steel. Occasionally she knocks on it, all before she begins bending the steel more into it. The blade shifts, but it quickly assumes its shape as Toph moves her fingers firmly against it.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  Considering for a moment, Bedivere finally shakes his head. "I do not remember any knights so old, but there were few opportunities for one to grow old. We strove to make of Camelot a place of safety and prosperity, but in the end it collapsed from within, and the pressures from without were a constant toll. Perhaps we subdued the Saxon chieftains, but we never truly conquered the sea-wolves."

  "Mayhap, but stubbornness, survival, and a desire to fight are all entirely different things." Bedivere flicks a long-fingered hand in dismissive gesture. "I do not enjoy fighting, and I do not seek it out as you and so many of your Union allies do. To draw my sword is the very last of my options. If the Lord God blesses me to live so many long years," he says with that crooked half-smile again, "I will do so without the need to take up that blade when my back is stooped and my eyes have clouded."

  Even half-blind and mostly crippled, he'd still probably make a decent showing. Bedivere is by turns cunning, wily, unexpected, and above all, stubborn as a mule. The only person in Dun Realtai who can match him in that unique brand of sheer, self-sacrificing obstinance is Arturia herself.

  Watching Toph work with the sword really is like watching someone shape wet clay, except she has no tools to her name except her hands and her willpower. No potter's wheel or delicate carving tools are needed for the kind of work she does. Bedivere idly checks over his other equipment as she does, ensuring that all of the moving parts can still move, and that the thickness and weight are appropriate. Even if it were heavier than he had recommended, he's still strong enough to wear the armour and move well in it, but the lighter it is, the longer he can fight.

  When he takes to the field, it's a battle of attrition -- he does not have the strength of arm that Lancelot or even Gawain had exhibited. Instead, it's the death of a thousand swift cuts, when he has to fight. Since he can't usually put his enemies down as quickly as the likes of Servants or even many other Elites, hat armour's got to last through all sorts of punishment.

  He doesn't comment, though, so it must meet approval. After a time he lifts it piece by piece, carefully putting it on quickly and with practised motions. Rather than take a squire, he had taught himself to do that by himself, learning how to quickly and easily work with each piece, and to latch and unlatch fastens and buckles. It looks a little odd with modern clothing under it in place of a surcoat, and without that mantled white greatcloak, but it's worth it not to make three trips to take it home.

  "I think I will take my leave," he offers, "once you've finished with my blade. Thank you; and if there is ever aught you need, you need only name it and so shall it be done. You have done me a great service today." Even Kepas climbs to his feet, shaking himself off like a dog throwing water from its coat, stretching and yawning a cloud of icy mist.

  The harp Bedivere takes up even more carefully, cradling it against his side, and he'll wait patiently for her to finish her work with his sword. Claws click as Kepas circles around behind him, lifting up his head and pricking his ears at something too distant to hear. He listens for a moment, tense, before turning and bolting up the hill to the citadel.

  Bedivere looks after him, quirking a brow. "Perhaps he heard milady call for him." Or he heard one of the kitchen scullions offering scraps. Oh well. He turns, waiting.

Toph Beifong (20) has posed:
    While Bedivere puts on the fully repaired armour Toph does her best to finish up the blade, obviously taking her time as she works slowly. The new steel gets worked into the blade, thickening it just slightly as she works on making it more compact. And finally she rises, holding the sword out for Bedivere. Sure, it's not heavy, but he should feel that it's not as thin as it was before. The edge is sharp as well, and there's a slight new shine to it, though he will probably need to polish both the armour and the sword to make it pristine.

    "Hey, the Union pays me to do my bending, and I love doing it!" Toph says with a satisfied grin when Bedivere thanks her for her services. "You gave the badgermoles a good home here, as well as the one that Genghis Rex made. That... means a lot to me," she says softly. "If you really want to help me, then perhaps you can do something for Goldie and Pepper's baby once it's born." Maybe there's some knightly thing to be done, some cool ceremonies or whatever. "I'll head back home, and then I'll be in Yu Dao to continue setting up my metalbending academy there. If you really are bored, then maybe you could head on over and help me get the place ready? I have need of some hands and some people who aren't afraid to work with a hammer." After all, the academy will be an important place.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
  The armour feels much better. Steel plates, rivets, and fittings are solid and whole in a way that they haven't been for decades. Bedivere moves this way and that once he has his armour fastened and put on, testing pieces and checking to make sure it's as light and flexible as it's supposed to be. Apparently it meets approval; once he finishes testing, he nods in satisfaction.

  By that time, she's finished with his sword. He reaches out to take it, stepping back so he can give it an experimental stroke or two. His arm nearly blurs as he launches into a complicated series of strokes, so fast the steel seems to blur; a bright gleam as the sun reflects from its blade. Straightening, he holds it up with both hands over the hilt, looking closely at the flat. It looks bright and new, without the notching or scarring that had marked it for over two decades of service.

  Still holding the blade up, he lowers his head until his forehead nearly touches the blade, murmuring something in a voice that cracks. A prayer?

  His eyes are dry when he looks to Toph, though, neatly reversing his grip and holding the blade point-down. "Ah, I remember that one. I believe I saw her in the fields two days ago, quite happy to be tearing up the earth just beyond one of the crop fields." He smiles, faintly. "I dare say she enjoys this land nearly as much as I do."

  To her potential request, he cocks his head, very faintly, like a quizzical hound. "Hou? I had not heard. Congratulations to her. Aye, I will speak with milady, and see if there is aught she feels is appropriate." Mention of the academy earns something between a nod and a shrug. "Is that so? Aye, I believe I could spare some time. Mayhap I could find more able and willing hands to bring with me, as well, now that Dun Realtai is no longer in any immediate danger."

  In other words, a small army of volunteers, if building is what she needs.

  "In the meantime, God keep you," he offers, raising his hand in farewell; he realises a moment later, hand drooping somewhat, that she can't see him. Ah, right. There weren't very many blind knights in Camelot, either. Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, he instead shifts his grip on his sword, carrying it point-down. "I thank you again; I will not soon forget this. Farewell for now, Toph."

  With a half-smile she can't see, he turns to hike back up the hill, following after where Kepas had gone bounding earlier in his excitement. It's time to go see what that idiot Fae dog's gotten himself into /this/ time...