12077/Neenja goes sword shopping

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Neenja goes sword shopping
Date of Scene: 19 July 2022
Location: The Forge
Synopsis: Yet another satisfied customer. Models who are also Samurai. Yay!
Cast of Characters: Betsy Braddock, Colborn




Betsy Braddock has posed:
Now, Colborn probably gets a distinct type to the patrons that frequent his establishment... History nuts, of course, as well as the odd duck that just likes sharp pointy things, probably. Maybe some martial arts enthusiasts. Possibly the occasional super hero, even, given it *is* New York and there's an entire network of people that seemingly cosplay as Olympian and Asgardian gods. All in all, his type is probably not who walks through the door this fine evening.

Elizabeth Braddock is every inch the British super-model at first glance: Tall for a woman, with a statuesque way of holding her slender frame, her clothing all fashionably distressed from the 'Fashion Week 2021' tee to the high waisted shorts she's wearing and the way her purple-dyed hair is artfully caught up in two chop sticks. The British super-model's curious lilac-purple eyes brighten as she sees the various gear on display, walking straight over to the armor while she waits for her arrival to be noticed and acknowledged.

Colborn has posed:
    Well, the other day Colborn had a pyrokinetic vigilante place a custom order with him. Though he's not totally aware of her whole second life. But either way, he is in the back room working when the doorbell jingles. So he finishes what he was doing.. which at this time was just organizing some of his collected pieces that were not out on display.

    And that is when he comes out of the back in the least professional outfit one can generally wear. Teeshirt and bluejeans. He isn't wearing the whole blacksmith apron as he was not working his forge right now. He sets down a washcloth he was using to wipe his hands off, and lifts his brows. "Good afternoon ma'am." he says in a voice with just the hint of an accent. Something Germanic or Scandinavian. "I see you have a good eye for collector's items."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I've always had a taste for the finer things in life." Betsy's own accent is high class British, with just a hint of Essex, well trained and friendly. She turns from the armor, brushing purple-dyed hair out of her face and behind one ear from where tentacles have escaped the loose updo.

"Good afternoon, sir. Your work?" And she nods towards the armor, tilting her head slightly inquisitively, "It's as good as any I've seen, and better than most reproductions. I'm Betsy... Betsy Braddock." Something tells her that he probably won't recognize the name, and so she moves on without the usual moment for people to acknowledge her.

Colborn has posed:
    "All of it is mine. Yes." says Colborn as he moves a bit closer. He doesn't really seem to take the time to study the woman's features. He loves metalwork more than pleasures of the flesh. What? But he does smile a bit before he shrugs, "Believe it or not... most of my business comes from collectors who wish to own a replica of a historical or cinematic weapon."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I can believe it." Betsy says wryly, expression amused. "In fact, I'm tempted to recommend you to some people I know, just so they'd have better replicas to lie about the authenticity of."

Close examination of the model would reveal some peculiarities to spark interest: she holds herself with all the readiness of a trained fighter ready for combat at a moment's notice, for one thing. For another, she's positioned herself so that her back is to a solid wall and she can watch both doorways in the reflection of the metalwork in front of her.

She turns from the armor to him, a visual examination that's as thorough as it is assessing. "So you do commission work, mmm? How familiar are you with eastern metalworking traditions?" And as she asks, she lowers her psi-shields, lightly pressing against his mind to assess his truthfulness to her question. Given his own gifts, and his age, he may be able to feel the lightest of mental touches, like the wings of a butterfly.

Colborn has posed:
    The one thing that is taught to Eternals at a young age is to recognize external mental pressure. But the weirdest part is the *ping* that comes from his smartwatch. His Mother Box is linked to him by a semi-neural connection. And the Mother-Box generates psionic shielding. It's just kinda weird as it's not from his brain, but it's -in- his brain.

    He tilts his head to the left then and turns to regard the model. Both brows lift and his voice is still semi distant and mostly emotionless. "I have studied with masters in both China and Japan. My favorite weapon that I have forged so far is in this case here." he says, gesturing towards a display behind the counter. Within it is a military style Jian sword. Not the usual super thin flexible sort... the type made for battle, not katas.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Oh, how did I miss that?" Betsy closes the distance quickly, gazing down at the indicated sword within. "Absolutely fabulous. Sanmei or wumei construction? I'm more familiar with single-edged blades personally." Because all British models are fluent enough in Eastern swordsmithing to know the difference between three plate and five plate construction?

The pressure of her mind relaxes, her own eyes narrowing ever so slightly and ever so briefly at the ping from his smartwatch. While she has never encountered a mother box, she has been a member of the House of X long enough that psi-sensing technology isn't entirely a foreign concept. But if he's going to play coy, she can as well with a good British stiff upper lip.

"It's so refreshing to see someone that knows their craft. Especially here in the States." She smiles, wryly, as she considers Colborn some more. "But I do believe you do. I'm looking to commission a daisho set."

Colborn has posed:
    "This one is sanmei. That is my preferred method for such weapons." admits Colborn before he looks to the front door to make sure nobody else is coming in. Then he turns towards Betsy as the front door's lock turns. "So tell me. Is your interest within my memories or my skillset?" he asks deadpan. "It is not often than someone attempts to probe my mind. Normally, doing so without permission is considered an attack, or at least an invasion of privacy."

    His brows lift a bit and he nods, "But.. given that those capable of doing so tend to blur verbal and mental communications and for people such as they, it becomes a normal thing and not a form of attack. So... my name is Colborn Gustafson." he says, offering a hand, "I request that you leave my memories within my mind alone if that is agreeable with you. But I -will- accept your commission. I do have a few other jobs ahead of yours, but would be happy to give you my best work when I am able to do so."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
The British psi looks absolutely unapologetic at getting called out for the brief, light probe she tried. "Mmm. It wasn't a deep enough probe for memory." She temporizes, with an wry smile, "Just enough that I could tell if you were bullshitting me. But you're right, Mr. Gustafson. It does become a habit, much like checking for exits and analyzing for threats, but it was still quite uncouth of me. Let's start over, mmm? My name is Betsy Braddock. It is a pleasure to meet you, Colborn Gustafson." And she offers her own hand. Immediately, he can feel the calluses of a trained and expert fighter, although well disguised by an expensive manicure.

"Call me a traditionalist, but I tend to prefer swords made with the sanmei technique." She says in agreement to his sword-forging methods, and nods slowly when he mentions a backlog. "I would hardly expect you to abandon other projects for mine." She says easily, "I assure you, I'm not *that* kind of rich client. Betsy not Karen, mmm?"

Colborn has posed:
    Smirking a bit, Colborn nods his head. As he does so, the door unlocks. It wasn't a bit audible click. But a psychic likely could sense the telekinetic energy in use. He smiles just a bit at the comment about his technique.

    "Do you wish the blades to be made in the age old classical method used by the Japanese swordmasters?" he asks, "With the folding and refolding of the steel. Or would you prefer that I provide you with the most usable weapon that I am capable of making, regardless of traditionalist leanings?" he asks.

    When he says that, his eyes light up as he remembers something. "If you would care to join me in the back area, I have far more items of my creation back there, just not on display yet. I could show you some of my single blade weapons for comparison."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
The click and the surge of psionic energy both earn Colborn a lifted eyebrow in silent acknowledgement of a well placed riposte. "I defer to your judgement on construction." Betsy informs the man, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm a traditionist but I'm also a pragmatist and would rather not have a snapped blade." She smiles, ever so slightly, "It makes things quite messy when that happens."

When he offers to let her go back and check out his worksmanship for herself, she also brightens up somewhat. "Oh, that sounds lovely, Mr. Gustafson." She chuckles, "Plus I dare say it'll help you to see how I hold a sword, mmm?"

Colborn has posed:
    "If I am to make one properly for you, then I will need your cooperation in the endeavor." says Colborn as he turns towards the back. "The -real- question is... I presume that this will not be simply for display. You intend to use these weapons in battle."

    As he steps into the back, there are crates and shelves and all manner of storage places as well as ... well... the forge itself. None of those gas powered things. He uses a coal fire forge. "But if you intend to use these weapons in true battle, then I will need them to be sized and weighted -perfectly- for you. Hence... I will need your cooperation in their construction."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
The British psi-ninja doesn't look terribly surprised when she's told as much, having gone through all this before with her last sword. "Quite." She tells him when he hazards a guess that she's looking for blades that she can use rather than display pieces, "Although I admit I do appreciate aesthetics."

She glances around, taking in the forge and the shelves and crates, "I admit, if you hadn't brought up sizing and balancing the blade, I might have done so or walked." She adds, "Since it is such an important part of a functional blade."

Colborn has posed:
    Smirking, Colborn shrugs his shoulders, "I would be a poor craftsman if I simply mass produced generic pieces." And that said, he turns to the sealed crates. Then he steps forward and maneuvers between two before stopping at another. This one is opened bare handed.

    Within are half a dozen Katana in their ornate scabbards. Colborn doesn't make weapons that are not fantastic. These are not made for particular wielders though. But they are well made. He selects one with a pommel styled like a lion. This one is held out towards Betsy to examine.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
The sword offered to her is accepted, with Betsy shifting her grip almost instinctively to get the right balance of the piece. She unsheathes in one quick, practiced motion, turning the blade to examine the edge. "Beautiful." She tells him with a slight smile, before setting aside the scabbard.

She takes a few steps back and to the side, finding a clear area to slowly flow through some basic forms. She grimaces slightly, and holds out a hand for the sheathe to float into before she sheathes the sword again. "Beautiful piece, but a bit longer than I usually like." She says frankly, holding it back out to him.

Colborn has posed:
    "Indeed. That was one I made for practice. I was attempting to recreate the weapon of Musashi. He was renowned for using a blade a little bit longer than most Katana."

    He accepts it back and shrugs, "But, this one was measured more for me than for anyone else. It has been a while since I wielded it." But he pauses, and then sets it back in the crate. "But when it comes to forging -your- weapon, I require more than simply measurements and size comparisons. I believe in bonding the weapon to its wielder in a deeper way. Blood and sweat of the wielder should be a part of their blade... or blades."

    That said, he turns to face Betsy once more, "But if you intend to truly wield these in actual battle, then I believe that I will use a crucible to purify the steel and to make it strong enough to survive whatever you put it through."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I was trained in shorter blades than is usual." Betsy admits with half of a shrug as she finds a crate to lean against while watching both Colborn and the exit.

His mysticism regarding the forging of the blade with her blood sweat and tears makes the model grimace slightly, but it's less an expression of distaste and more an expression of acknowledgement. "Well, it's convenient that you're in the city, and I live just outside the city." She says with a sigh, "Last time I had to spend almost three months in Japan and missed out on several gigs, including a Vogue photoshoot."

Colborn has posed:
    "Well, if you give me your contact information, I will be sure to reach out when I am ready to make your weapons. I am currently finishing up a replica of the Sword of Charlemagne, and then a half dozen foils for a theater troupe. After that, a special saber... so I believe that I will be free to work on your weapon in two weeks or so." he offers.

    "Will that be alright with you?" he asks as he steps out towards the forge. "I can assemble the crucible quickly enough."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Two weeks is actually a lot quicker than I assumed." Betsy says with a touch of surprise in her voice, even as she reaches into her back pocket to pull out a small metal card case to give her contact information. "I'm in no rush... I have a serviceable set of weapons at the moment, even if they're not exactly to the standard of what I've seen you produce so far."

She pauses. "I think we had best get money out of the way, mmm?" She smiles, wryly, "I won't be so rude as to attempt to haggle, so tell me how much you want as a deposit. Anything over a million, I will have to get back to you after my accountant approves the expenditure."

Colborn has posed:
    "I have a tradition of my own. Nothing is paid until such time as the creation is in the hands of its new owner." suggests Colborn as he shakes his head. "I trust that will be agreeable?" he asks, a genuine smile on his face for the first time of the night.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Fair enough, luv." Betsy agrees with a laugh, "But if you need help with sourcing anything, let me know." She gifts Colborn with a genuine smile of her own, adding, "I want the best work that you can produce, and that means using the best materials. I've enough money to get most everything, and probably contacts that can get what the money can't buy."

Colborn has posed:
    And that bright smile of Colborn's becomes something more wry.. amused. "Materials are no problem. Believe me, you will have the best steel that -can- be produced. That is not an issue at all."

    But then he begins moving back towards the front room. "I find myself curious at your skill with the blade, but that is just my personal curiosity, not any requirement of mine."

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"I'm proficient." Betsy replies with a grin that's broadening to nearly a wicked level, "Mostly kenjutsu and kendo, with a little bit of other disciplines mixed in." She spreads her hands out, "The specifics are quite the bore."

Because the specifics of why a supermodel is also proficient in the use of a katana is a bore. Right. "Most of my training was informal by modern standards, though. And I've never been in a situation I couldn't get my way out of..." Obviously, since she's here in front of him.

Colborn has posed:
    Nodding his head, Colborn shrugs his shoulders and guides the way to the showroom, "Well. Give me a couple of weeks, and I will be reaching out. You've my word. Now, I should ask... as far as cosmetics... do you have any particular requests when it comes to visual cues? Such as the lion head pommel? Or a dragon? Perhaps a bird of some sort?" he asks.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
"Butterflies are a big motif in my life." Betsy's grin is rueful, "Not quite as impressive as a dragon or lion, or a phoenix, but I've learned to come to terms with it." She laughs, and runs a hand through a bit of hair that's escaped her messy bun, "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, except it's all butterflies, mmm?"

Growing slightly more serious, she nods, "I look forward to hearing from you, then. And to the start of making something beautiful." She grins, then, with a touch of mischief. "And perhaps a sparring session sometime."

Colborn has posed:
    "Butterflies. Noble creatures. Graceful and beautiful. I imagine that is how you move on the field of battle." says Colburn. "I picture magenta wings with black spots... set on a ring guard." He grins as he envisions it in his mind and then says, "If you wish to scan my surface thoughts, you can see -precisely- what I envision." And it'll have black metal on the ring where the -gaps- between the wings would be. So not -actual- gaps, but just colorations to indicate gaps.

Betsy Braddock has posed:
Once Colborn describes his vision, Betsy lets out a quick bite of laughter before she shakes her head. "That sounds lovely." She agrees, and he can feel her mind brush against his, a touch as delicate and controlled as the wings of the butterfly. Whatever the source of her powers, she is both a powerful and skilled telepath. "Although perhaps a little more true purple? Like... this?"

And around Betsy's face forms the wings of a butterfly, psychic energy coalescing as she 'adjusts' the mental image Colborn has in his mind to better match the psychic avatar she manifested.

Colborn has posed:
    Nodding his head, Colborn says a few words in an ancient tongue. Of course, you're in his head and hear the thought that translates to, <<Mother Box. Store that image.>> And the smartwatch *pings* once more.

    That done, he gestures to the door, "I will call you when I am ready to work on it Ms. Braddock."