Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG]

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Is an unlucky number. But it’s okay because it has a three in it. So it’s fine


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Is this weird?

 

This feels like it’s weird.

 

Hineni lays there on his back, his fingers clutching the blanket high up towards his neck. Nervously, he rolls his head to the side, turning his gaze to look at the creature lying there next to him. Feeling his gaze, Obscura opens her eyes and Hineni quickly turns his head back straight, staring daggers into the ceiling.

 

Yup. Definitely weird.

 

He closes his eyes, wanting to let out a sigh, but stops himself before doing so. Sighing now would be weird for him to do, right?

 

The air in the room is weird. The fabric of his sheets feels weird. The tension in his body, which he is used to carrying around with him all day every day, in all honesty, feels weird now, here in his own bed. What’s even weirder is that he feels himself being watched. Though, maybe, weirdly enough, he’s gotten used to that too, at this point.

 

Hineni turns his head again, looking back at Obscura who lays there, now with her eyes closed, her sharp face smushed sideways against a pillow that he thinks she stole from one of the other rooms.

 

The other rooms… should he get up and go to sleep in one of them? Would that be weird? Or is he ‘expected’ to sleep here? They’re engaged after all, is it weird if they don’t share a bed? No, wait. The bed sharing shouldn’t come until after marriage, usually, right? Weird. Maybe owl-culture is different? God-culture, maybe? Is that even a thing? He has no idea. This is all so… weird.

 

Hineni squints his already closed eyes to ‘blink’ them. He’s far beyond his limits of social competency, his comfort zone having been flown over with feathered wings days ago already. There is of course another implication to be made here, given the situation. But that’s far too weird for him, even if they are engaged.

 

…Right?

 

Hineni’s eyes open again and he once more finds himself staring at the ceiling. What time is it? How long has he been laying here? Was he asleep? It felt like he was in a half-daze the entire time. He finds himself pondering that pertinent question that hovers on the forefront of his mind. The obvious question. Would he? Would it be weird if he did? They’re engaged after all, so it’s going to happen eventually… right? But just speaking out of logistics, how would he… how would they…

 

Uh…

 

Hineni blinks, finally letting out that sigh he had been holding in since the start of the night.

 

It’s all too weird.

 

Eventually, their ‘night’, the morning of the new day, that is, comes to an end and Hineni manages to find at least a few hours of sleep somewhere in its weird depths.

 


 

The next 'day' comes and Hineni sets to the task of pretending that nothing weird had ever happened and while he does that, he also begins working on today’s forging. He feels like more daggers are an acceptable thing to be making for now and so he does exactly that. He’s pretty hungry though, having skipped food yesterday and so at the guild, he orders perhaps more food than is necessary to take home with himself.

 

On the plus side, he gets praised for being a magnificent hunter. He isn’t sure if Obscura understands the concept of commerce. The two of them have what Hineni would describe as a very nice meal, despite the difficulty of the conversation. Obscura isn’t a great talking partner at the table, eating her food much like a real owl would. This means that she is often hacking up entire collections of bones and gunk in the middle of their conversations.

 

Then, later that night, the two of them go back out to the forest. Not to hunt frogs today, but because he needs more wood. Winter will be here soon.

 

Despite the sweaty work, he quite enjoys his time in the forest with her, pausing in between his chopping to look up towards her, sitting on a branch in one of her many forms. It doesn’t matter when he looks, she’ll always be there, watching him curiously from above as some kind of owl of varying shape and size.

 

The night, after they return home, repeats itself much like the last. Though Hineni does find that he sleeps easier and faster than before.

 


 

The next day comes

 

“Three,” says Obscura, having taken the form of a small owl, pointing at the piece of paper he had brought home from the guild with a taloned foot.

 

“The order only says one,” he explains, pointing at the thing.

 

Obscura stretches her wings out. He’s pretty sure this is supposed to be a threatening display. But honestly, he doesn’t feel very intimidated. “Hineni makes three!” she hoots.

 

“I really don’t want to though,” he sighs, looking at the sketch. Some adventurer wanted a custom-made iron bodied lance, but with an elongated, curved blade at the end, like a scimitar. This would be very troublesome to make.

 

By the time he looks back up from the paper in his hands, he sees Obscura, sitting as a small owl, standing atop his anvil with her wings still spread out wide. “Three! Three!” hoots the owl, parading around in a dance of protest. “Hineni makes three!”

 

The man stares at her and then sighs, shaking his head. “Fine,” he relents, turning to his work. “I’ll make three. Aren’t you some kind of god?” he asks. “Can’t you do… I don’t know, more godly things?”

 

“WHO~!” is all that he gets in return for his statement as Obscura flies off to sit in the rafters and glare at him from above, clearly not pleased about something.

 


 

Rays of cold moonlight shine in through the open, high-set windows of the forge as Hineni’s hammer strikes against the glowing metal that he holds down before himself. Sparks fly out with every strike, filling the air with warm fairy-light as the vibration of the impact shoots up through his arm and back down through his grounded body.

 

With focused intensity, he stares at the piece of metal in his grasp and hammers it over and over, bending it, flattening it, shaping it into the form that he needs it to hold. Hineni isn’t much of an artist, in all honesty. He can’t draw or paint or sing or sew or create things of deep, intrinsic beauty. But what he is good at is pragmatism. Metal. Shoes for anqas, tools for workmen, swords and blades for adventurers. The combined glows of both the high moon and the fire of the forge bathe him and Obscura in their combined shine. He can do this kind of work, however. He can’t make art that might captivate a heart, but he can make a weapon that will pierce one.

 

The hammer rises up into the air to fall down again, to release onto the metal together with the excited breath that he has held in his body, together with the strong tension he keeps in his muscles. Two bony, taloned hands wrap themselves around him from behind and Hineni is awoken from his trance. He stands there, his hand with the hammer still up in the air, staring at the metal and then down at Obscura’s arms that are wrapped around him from behind.

 

“Be careful,” says Hineni, looking over his shoulder down towards her. She is back in her half-human form. “It’s dangerous work.” Obscura hoots, simply standing there behind him and swaying from side to side. “Thanks for always staying up with me,” he says, turning back to the blade on the anvil. “It must be boring for you.”

 

“Obscura is never bored with Hineni!” hoots Obscura in protest.

 

“Is that so?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. The owl nods back at him and he shrugs. “Alright, fair enough.” He tilts his head to the metal. “Can you let go? I need to finish this.”

 

“HOO~!” hoots the owl very suddenly, letting go of him. “Unromantic Hineni! Dumb Hineni!” She hoots in protest, flying away up towards the rafters. “Rude Hineni!”

 

“Uh…”

 

Obscura hisses at him, doing an odd swaying movement with her head as she glares at him with two large, yellow eyes from up above, having taken the form of a normal owl once again. A second later, she flies off out of the window and into the night.

You are reading story Weaponsmith : [A crafting litRPG] at novel35.com

 

Hineni stands there, feeling the heat of the forge rise up over him. Well. That was weird. Was this a communication problem because she’s an owl, or because she’s a god or because she’s a she and he doesn’t know what to do with that? Or maybe just because he just doesn’t know how to talk to anyone at all?

 

The man shrugs to himself and returns to his work. He’s used to it by now. Presumably, he did some weird thing that Obscura had found offensive that he didn’t even realize that he did.

 


 

Tonight is the third night that Obscura will be sleeping in his room.

 

Or, well, ‘their’ room. His house has been co-opted in a rather unexpected manner, hasn’t it? That’s marriage, he supposes.

 

Hineni lays there, staring at the ceiling. He can’t sleep. Not because of the bright, full moon shining outside of the window or because of any odd thoughts that might be nagging him at this early hour or because the whole room, if not the whole house, smells like owl. Rather, he can’t sleep because he is being watched.

 

Hineni turns his head, looking at the two bright, yellow eyes staring at him and he stares back at them. “Hey,” says Hineni. He wasn’t trying to get her attention or anything. It’s just literally the only word he was able to think of saying.

 

“Hello,” replies Obscura.

 

“So… uh… owl-god, huh?” asks Hineni. It seems odd, but he realizes that they never have many ‘normal’ conversations, for a lack of a better term. Maybe he should work on that, if they’re going to be living together?

 

“Who~” hoots Obscura.

 

“You,” replies Hineni, trying to make a joke.

 

“Me?” she asks, confused. The joke clearly didn’t land. Now it’s awkward. Damn it. He needs to change plans. Hineni looks around the darkness, trying to find a way to keep the conversation flowing in a natural, normal way.

 

“I mean… is there another owl-god, er… -ess?”

 

Obscura shakes her head. “Inherit,” she replies. “I inherit,” explains the owl-goddess, tapping against the spot between her collar-bones with a long, sharp talon. “When Obscura dies three deaths- THREE! Then the next will inherit.”

 

“How many deaths?” he asks, realizing that she only said it twice. Also because it seems interesting. Three lives, huh? Being a god must be weird too.

 

“THREE!” hoots the owl, growing excited all of a sudden and Hineni nods.

 

“So, uh…” He looks around the room. “Can I ask you something?” asks Hineni.

 

“Who~”

 

“You,” jokes Hineni, trying a second time. Obscura tilts her head, not understanding. Damn it, he did it again. Hineni shakes his head. “No, I mean uh…” The man takes a deep breath. “It’s weird for me to be around some all day, you know?” says Hineni. “Isn’t it like that for you too?” he asks. Though, he supposes a god must be used to having worshipers and followers.

 

“One,” says the owl, tapping against herself. “One,” she repeats, lifting a hand and tapping against his chest with a long talon. The movement doesn’t make him nervous because of the dagger-like claw literally inches above his furiously beating heart, it's making him nervous because she’s touching him. “One,” she says a third time, pointing at the darkness of the room around them, at the house.

 

Hineni thinks for a second, trying to decipher her answer.

 

“Obscura lived alone in the big-now-small-forest,” says Obscura. “Hineni lived alone in the big-house.”

 

“Big,” affirms Hineni. Alone too, but he skips that one.

 

“Lonely Obscura, lonely Hineni, lonely house,” says the owl. “But three lonely things came together to make one,” she explains.

 

Hineni blinks. He sure got some kind of answer, but that didn’t exactly answer his question. “So… it’s not weird?”

 

“Hineni must choose,” says Obscura. “Big choose. Weird house or lonely house?”

 

He stares at her for a while, trying to unbox her riddles and odd way of speaking. He supposes that she’s saying that it boils down to either getting out of his old habits and ways and accepting the weirdness of this new life, or he has to reject it and let the things that have come together here come apart again. But he can’t stay on the middle of the fence, tip-toeing around and never really making a full commitment to anything.

 

Sure, he’s terrified of everything that is happening. But at the same time, he’s excited by the great potential this new path might hold for him. Sure, it’s weird. But on the other hand, what’s the alternative? To be as sad and lonely as he was forever? To be afraid forever?

 

Maybe it’s time for him to stop being a jumpy, anxious mess, like a mouse at night, hiding in a hole as a shadow swoops overhead. Maybe it’s time for him to grow up. He’s getting married now, after all. Doesn’t that mean he has to man up and learn to take responsibility, not only for his own life, but for the life of others too?

 

Hineni, of course, knows that he’s bullshitting himself. But the pep-talk is enough for him to ignore that sense of doubt. Weirdness it is. There’s no going back now, he’s made his choice and he’s going to commit to it. His two-life life is over, as Obscura had called it once. He can’t keep living like he was still in it, in that rut of existence.

 

The man sits upright, letting out a long, exerted breath, the blanket falling down from his chest as he turns his gaze to look at Obscura. The two of them stare at each other for an odd moment. It isn’t tense or awkward or weird, it’s just that both of them know now what the other is thinking.

 

“Hi~ ne~ ni,” hoots Obscura as his shadow falls over her body, a long, taloned finger tapping against her bare stomach. “Three.” He blinks. “Obscura wants three young.”

 

Hineni stares at her, his face hovering above hers, his heart thrashing in his chest as it presses against hers.

 

This new life of his is going to be a lot of work.

 

Hineni nods.

 

“Three,” confirms the man, who as of tonight, is at the very least unofficially married. Though, the ceremony might still be a while away. But in his own eyes at least, he takes a first real, tangible step towards manhood.

 

As for any questions that he might have had left about the logistics of it all are answered tonight, without a single, or even three pages of a book having to have been turned.

 

 


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