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Sidra: A Star, Forging

Bang. 

Goes her hammer as she swings.

Bang.

White hot metal groans and screeches as she molds the material beneath her burning hands.

Bang.

This is what she was made for. What she exists to do. Bending the elements to her will, destroying and creating with every scorching breath.

Bang.

Her lips curl as her vision becomes a reality. The Forger sets down her mighty tools, inspecting her work, for she will turn out nothing less than perfection.

She takes a breath, teeth flashing brilliantly in the ethereal firelight of her forges, then, she lets the breath go; ice stretching across her lips as she cools the metal. She controls every aspect in her workshop, she must, to turn out such marvels.

Clangs and the hissing of metal echo still in her ears, a music that fills every space of her world without fail. Her workers, her beautiful creations, build around her, filling the oppressive silence of the void that hangs above. A permanent fixture that Sidra uses to see her beautiful stars and occasionally, to ascend to attend the burning celestial souls. To dance about the shinning stars that she made, and to collect them when they faded, crushing them in her charred hands before returning what she had taken from this plane of existence.

Otherwise, she will be found amidst the eternally roaring fires, crafting for her brethren, and those lesser who seek out her craftmanship.

Smiling, the Goddess of Stars shakes her head and resumes her endless task. Filling the halls once more with her own music.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

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