It was the time of the day where the sunlight slipped peach into the small chamber of the shop, bringing a soft sight to the jewelcrafter's lips. As the evening's gentle embrace drew nearer, Nielthan Sunrider accepted yet another day's labour coming to an end, laying the masterpieces that daily were displayed on his hands for the ladies and gentlemen to visit his establishment into their velvet cases. His touch betrayed his respect, for he appeared to regard his work as if it was something fragile, so easily damaged.
There were white strands, breaking the auburn of his long mane, betrayed his long years, years to have been spent on the cherished art of carving on precious metals that soon came to adorn those who could afford such luxuries. He had learnt from a glance on a customer to tell how much they would purchase and what their demands would be, when and what to recommend and when to remain silent, lest he face a noble's wrath.
Yes, through the years, as much as Nielthan loved his craft, he could not deny that there were elements, such as dealing with others, which made the profession of the jewelcrafter quite unpleasant. His nimble hands were also more often experiencing pain, as his age grew, and the obligatory enlistment in the cold steppes of Northrend. That had damaged his bones and had made his work even more difficult ever since.
Thus there was nothing that the jewelcrafter desired more than peace, the end of the day, when he could return to his wife and son, ready to follow in his footsteps in a few years. It was the rest he so desired, but as the bell of the opening door gently ringed, it was made clear that he would not have the rest he so desired.
What struck him first about the woman to enter into his shop is that she did not belong there. There was nothing ill about her. She was as pretty as the rest of their kind, without any terrifying scars, or malice touched over her face. However, she did not smile, like all were meant to, as it was etched in their very minds, though Nielthan could not tell with certainty. Her clothes were black and heavy, opposing the fashion of Silvermoon that the other towns so desperately sought to mimic, with the red silks an releaving cuts that so perfectly reflected the land's eternal summer. The pale woman with the snow-white hair looked like a ghost whose eyes were tainted by fel and like she was cold. Untouched by the Sun.
It did not take longer than a glance for the jewelcrafter to feel discomfort in her presence. No, it was obvious she was just a girl, who could have been better nourished, but she was rare and that not in an exotic, or pleasant manner. Awkward and odd, making him want to send her away, for she had no place there.
But neither does that blasted thing on the sky, he thought to himself and instantly felt regret for his thoughts.
"Greetings, young miss." he told the woman as she was approaching, with a warm smile on his lips. "How may I be of assistance?"
The young woman looked at him with blank eyes, before uttering clearly, but monotonously. "I want a locket."
"Well, of course." Nielthan offered, as his hand gestured to the collection set on cushions to his right. "There is a wide var-"
"No. Too small." the girl instantly spoke, without even offering a single glance at the displayed jewellery. She lifted her hand, extending a yellowed paper to the artisan. "I have a design. And the measurements."
Without opposing to her, Nielthan took the paper, only to very soon see that what the girl lacked in grace and a pleasant demeanour she had in artistic skill. Most of the page was occupied by an egg-shaped locket, torn in half. Vines were embracing it, while shapes of twigs and peculiar branches were carved on the surface, in a complex design. Perhaps not as complex as the jewelcrafter's usual's work, but he could appreciate imagination and talent when he saw it.
"A special order will not be a cheap one." he warned her. "What is the metal of your choice?"
"Silver." she calmly answered, her voice somewhat sour.
"I see." Nielthan lowered his head to look back at the design, somewhat skeptical. "The container is quite large. It will be heavy and, quite likely, uncomfortable for your neck. Are you sure that you made no error with the measurements?"
"Do not deviate." she warned him, her voice suddenly carrying something all too unfriendly.
A small pause, before he looked up at her, with a hasty smile that was meant to assure her. "I won't."
Another small pause. The crafter took a deep breath as his eyes focused on the design. "You will have it in a week, then. May I have a name to which-"
"It must be done by tomorrow evening." she interjected. "I will not be able to receive it later."
He most likely thought himself a fool not to deny her request, but he did not. There was something in her tainted eyes, in how small and frail she was that made him feel pity. "That will increase the price." he warned her again. "Are you sure-"
"I have money." she only said.
Nielthan nodded. "In that case, can I have a na-"
"Could it also be enchanted?" she asked. For the first time, there was a clear tone of hesitation, perhaps reluctance shaking her voice. The artisan, however, embraced it. It made her look more humane.
"That will increase the price."
"I have money." she assured him for once more.
"Then can I have your name?"
She did not reply, not instantly, though Nielthan deep inside knew he was unlikely to forget her, or mistake her for someone else. There were only so many times that one of the most beautiful and enticing race made him feel so repelled, so uncomfortable.
The girl soon lifted a pouch, to eventually set it on the polished counter of mahogany. Only by the difficulty that she carried it, the artisan could imagine the sum that was hidden within. A lifetime's savings by someone not rich, not noble, not even wealthy, who would need to deny themselves several luxuries so to place an important and constly order. When the sleepless Nielthan would finally deliver the locket to the girl, he knew he would also be returning a large part of that sum and later regret it. He could tell, however, that she needed it more than he.
"Celysiel. Ashfury." the snowy presence uttered.
"Celysiel Ashfury, then." Nielthan repeated. It was a name that meant nothing to him, a name that would continue to do so, a name that he would easily forget through the passing of days. "You may come receive it in the afternoon."
The young woman inclined her head with the patience she had thus far shown, speaking lowly. "Thank you."
Nielthan nodded mutedly, allowing her to walk away, exit the door of the small shop, leaving it sink in the echo of the ringing bell. He lowered his eyes and sighed, as another day's business ended, but his workshop called for a night without rest.
And she walked away, under the shadow of the felfire planet that the following day would mark the beginning of an end.
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