Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

The king's words seemed at conflict. He wanted her here because of the beautiful things she created, but he wanted her to create mass armor as well. It was confusing to be sure, although she was glad not to part with her head, that was to be sure. But at the princeling's words, she let herself rise and follow him, her brow troubled. But again, she wasn't really in a position to argue if she wanted to keep her head. It had a way of making a girl agree to pretty much anything. Even if one didn't realize she was a girl. Thank you, your highness. She smiled up at the man, and couldn't help the slight softening of her features as she did so. He was quite handsome. Giving herself a mental headshake, she thought to clear her mind. Truly I have no wish to offend, but I do not understand my duty. Am I here to make rank and file armor that any blacksmith could do with ease? Why the singular honor? He was much more approachable than his father, and this made her tongue looser she had need of answers, after all.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Alexander left the Great Hall with her in tow. He was grateful that she held her tongue until they were out in the hallway, but her questions were legitimate, even if she was questioning the orders from the King. You make intricate, beautiful armor. He started, turning his head to face her as he walked down the hallway, leading her. But your armor is also strong and durable, while being light. Those that have been sent for armor sent shoddy work that broke or was too heavy to be effective for the soldiers. You are to make stronger armor than what we have seen in many years. He stopped at a door after going down a flight of stairs, opening it to reveal a large room, with two forges, two anvils, and a lot of tools so she could work as much as she wanted to, even enough for her own personal projects and the town. You will be working in here. He closed the door and led her a few more doors down, and opened it. And these will be your living quarters. The rooms that he opened to were rather large, the first room holding several wardrobes, a chest, and a Canopy bed, with beddings and drapes in a nearby open dresser. The adjoining rooms were a bathroom with a empty tub for when she was to wash, and a fireplace to warm up the water that could be gotten from the nearby spring. The other room was empty, but it could become whatever she needed.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

The forge was nice, although it would take her time to situate things to her liking. The idea of war was not a pleasant one, but it was one that she took seriously. I would need an apprentice to use this much forge, she laughed, but was pleased nonetheless. The air would allow for the coolness needed, but would make it more difficult to heat things when she needed. But again, everything could be situated to work. But when they reached the private quarters Devon couldn't help but let out an unladylike whistle. Even in her parent's home, it'd not been this nice. I can't sleep on that. I'd just ruin it!, she protested, lifting up her soiled and burned fingers, which in her line of work was often the cleanest part of her. She loved a good bath more than most people, but that was to avoid the impurities that dirt could bring to a forged item.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

You won't ruin the bed. He said simply, leading her towards the bathroom. The beddings will be changed daily, so you don't have to worry about it. Just pick which ones you want to be using, the rest will be taken care of by the servants. Otherwise, what is your name? I have not heard it yet. I am Prince Alexander, if it wasn't obvious. I don't like to announce myself. He moved forward, his chest lightly pressing against her back after he heard her name, moving slightly closer than would normally be proper. He was maybe a head taller than her, and he shortened that distance, his lips near her ear. I know you're a woman. I can see it in your face. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. But I was more surprised to see that a woman made me such quality armor. Maybe later I can request something else to be made?
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Devon, your highness. She'd have been a fool not to know who the man wearing the armor had been. After all, only a king or prince was fit to wear that armor. However, he got her temper up with his tone. As if she was somehow ashamed to be a woman. The only reason she hid her gender was due to the male prejudice until she could show her skill. They then shut up quickly after that. Why is that, your highness? Is a woman not capable of creativity and beauty? I thought a woman was the epitime of beauty and god's gift to mankind. Or is it just that it was armor and a woman's hands should not be soiled with the labor of war? Devon had a temper, and one of these days it was going to get her into trouble. Likely soon, if she kept this up. I am proud to be a woman, your highness. Even if it is not a traditional role that I fill. If I remain, your highness, of course you can request a special item. I will be here at my King and prince's command after all. Before now, she'd always had at least the pretense of freedom. She owned her own house, her own horse, and her own forge was debt free. But now she would simply be a servant in a long line of other servants.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

He was slightly taken aback by the venomous tone in her voice, taking a step back and bowing. I was not surprised that a woman made my armor or such a thing of beauty, it is just a unusual field that you will with your expertise. He said it sincerely enough, and he moved back closer to her. No, I was relieved that it was a woman making my armor, at least. He whispered once more. It was a shock, but only a woman could have adorned my helm and crest with such precision to detail. You have my thanks. He stood up and once again took a step back. I can let you get situated here, and I will come back in the morning with my request. After the last two weeks, I am sure that you need your rest.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

She lifted her hands to her neck to make sure it was still attached. That had been a bit far, even for her. Reassuring herself that it was indeed intact, she smiled at the prince as he left. Thank you, your highness. Like most peasants, she could sleep in her clothing, and often did so. For comfort's sake, she shed the breeches and sat on the end of the bed. While another bath was tempting, there was still the village suspicion that bathing too often could make one sick and she'd already bathed today. So instead, she sat upon the bed, and undid the lacing that bound her generous breasts to her chest. Really, for the work she did they were too large and cumbersome. But for the moment, she could relax, and attempted to do so by lying back on the bed once she had replaced her shirt.Everything that would happen, would happen. She was but a tiny cog in the hands of fate. With a deep sigh she looked up at the canopy. It really was far too fine for a simple blacksmith. And that was her last thought as she let herself drift off to sleep.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Alexander slowly left the room, but he left before any of her clothes were shed. Her door was closed behind him, and he slowly headed back upstairs, his mind going into overdrive with his thoughts. She was stronger than most women he had seen, especially the princesses. They were all made for the niceties instead, a figurehead for the men to use. But Devon wasn't one to be used. In all fairness, she was 'hired' by his father to help outfit the knights and ranks for battle. A honorable job, to be sure. He reached the Great Hall, his father already gone to his rooms. So Alexander followed suit, traveling the winding hallways to reach his own. He was slow with pulling off the armor, relaxing when the weight of it was removed, setting it in a wardrobe of its own, stretched out and hung up so there were no small scratches or dents in any of the pieces. It was a precious piece of armor. Yet even as he did that, his mind was on the maker. So reclusive and denying, it made her intriguing to him. If just for that, to be shallow and prove himself, he had to have her. But even his own mind, as he slowly laid down and fell asleep, doubted that getting that end of what he wanted would be the last of it. He knew that if he got that little piece, he wouldn't walk away from it.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Old habits are hard to break, and no matter how comfortable of a bed she was lying in, when the dawn broke over the sky, Devon was up and wide awake. And though her stomach was ravenous, she knew that she couldn't justify eating until at least she'd had a better look at her 'new' forge. For make no mistake of it, she knew that she was trapped into working here no matter her desires. After all, the king had made his intentions known. With a weary sigh, she stripped off her shirt and began wrapping the tight bindings back around her breasts until only a male figure emerged. Slipping on the pants and shirt, she thought for a moment about the prince and his request. She wondered what it would be, and she thought about an idea for a sword that would match his armor, perhaps. But whatever the case, she made her way to the forge, and began sorting things how she would like them, covering a west window so that in the cool of the morning, the fires could blaze hot, and in the evenings they would keep the heat in, and a million other small things to do so that she lost track of time.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Alexander woke early, stretching and getting dressed, thinking of adorning the armor given to him the day before, but thinking against it. It was functional, that was for sure, but he didn't want it to be damaged. That would be bad for the field. So he simply put on his normal dark pants and shirt, buttoning up the latter before he took a brush to his hair, getting it out of his face before leaving his room. He made a beeline to the Dining Room, needing food and hoping to see Devon at the table. He would find himself saddened, though, because the whole time he was eating his sausage and eggs, she didn't come up. He knew that she would have to eat, so he made a plate for her, and decided to take it to her. He made a detour, though, getting a cloak from his room, as well as a few sizable chunks of Obsidian in the pockets. The walk to the downstairs where her room was went quickly, but he was stopped with sounds from the forge. He slipped in, making sure that nothing got into the food. Breakfast. He said, moving to a unused table and setting it down.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Huh? Her hair was plastered to her face, her bright, crystal eyes almost glimmering out of the shrouded corner in which she'd found herself. Lifting an arm, she wiped away the sweat from her face and peered at the princeling. Her entire body was plastered with sweat, which is why she normally only wore the forger's apron when near the fires. The sweat caused it to slick to her body, even the binding serving little purpose in hiding her gender. In fact, even if she had been male, the amount of detail that could be told from her clothing against her skin was positively indecent. Is the prince bringing food to the commoner? She teased. Again, she thought of how easy he was to approach, and how easy it would be to forget her place and his. But the scent of the food wafted over, and Devon felt the deep rumbles of desire in the pit of her stomach. Desire for food, that is. The room itself had been straightened out, and the fire was bellowing it's wrath at having been so long abused. Sitting down at a bench, she gave the prince a crooked little smirking smile. Thank you, your highness. And sat about eating. Not one to stand on ceremony, she was very tidy in her eating habits. She knew how to use a knife and fork and did not eat with her hands. She felt like she could eat the entire plate without complaint but knew she had to watch what she ate so she would not go to fat, or so her uncle had told her. Even though his reasoning was more to hide her gender better. But there was only so much that could be done against mother nature.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

Alexander had to stop himself from averting his eyes from her, her body rather open to him, surprisingly. He could see most of her curves down to her hips, her breasts wrapped up tightly, so tight that if it was anything but cloth holding them back, he was sure that the amount of sweat from Blacksmithing would make them tear and burst open. She sat down before he did, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at her remarks. He was much softer with servants than his father was. He again thanked that she held her tongue around the older one. He watched her for a long moment, seeing that not all things feminine were lost to her. She might have what is mostly known as a man's job, but she ate like a woman would slowly, small bits at a time, though the food was soon gone from the plate. Her body was definitely feminine, though well hidden with clothes when she wished it. And if his father wasn't tone deaf, he was sure that the King would have known that their new Blacksmith was a female by her voice. A few minutes of silence passed, and Alexander finally remembered the other reason why he came down here. He pulled out the large chunks of obsidian ore and put them on the table. I have a request for a sword, he started, With the use of obsidian through the blade, hilt, and guard.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

She looked up at the request for a sword, but frowned at the details. But she would be upfront with him. It would be a lovely looking, but a sword that would be useless in battle, your grace. Obsidian is a rock that flakes. Infused throughout the blade, once stricken by the blow of another sword, pike or shield would shatter its structure and most likely the next blow would break the sword. It would be possible for it to be placed in the hilt as a bauble at best, and I would not want to put it in the guard for the same reason as the blade. It would leave you defenseless after one strike. Her eyes fluttered closed. I am sorry, your highness. But I do not wish to bring you harm by my creations, no matter how lovely they may look.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

He wasn't disappointed by her words, but intrigued. She was well versed in what works best for weapons, it seemed. It was something that he would remember next time. Yes, very true. He said, taking one of the larger stones and putting it back in his cloak. Make the hilt look fine, then. I am sure that such a work or art will be magnificent from you. A smile crossed his face, though he didn't stand up. Maybe he had one more idea... The King will be having a ball tonight. He said simply, the smile playing at the corner of his lips. I was thinking we add one more guest to the list? The smile was slightly broader as he offered her his hand, a obvious gesture to what he was planning.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

She looked up at the prince, her face priceless. Of course, any girl dreams of being invited to a ball and while her occupation made her seem less of one, her gender was no less in fact. But she looked down to her hands and sighed. Your highness seeks to make a fool of me? She looked up at him. I am but a peasant, my Lord. Were I to even produce clothing that I do not have that were good enough, my hands are too rough, and my manners are none too fine. Surely, you jest. It hurt just a little that he would think that someone like her could just be able to be on the level with so many lords and ladies. She braced her arms against the table and stood. I'm sorry your highness, I must get back to work. And picking up the obsidian, she turned away before he saw just how much it had indeed hurt to, just for a moment, think it possible only to be ripped away by reality.
Thread: The Smith (me and Temara)

He could see that there was a wave of pain that went through her, but he did not understand why until he heard her words and saw her get up. He followed suit, but instead of leaving he got close to her, grabbing her by the shoulder and wheeling her around. He was possibly one of two people in the world that could do that and get away with it. Indeed, I do not jest. He said, his voice low and somber. I meant every word, to bring you to the ball. Give me an hour and a color, and by tonight, few will be able to recognize you. It will shock them, and please me. Now please, a hour and a color. That is all that is needed to start off the day and to work to sundown. You can forget about the forge and have fun for a single night.
Thread: Fire and Blood (Chocolate x Methos)

The forges of Hepheastus were hot and hellish, filled with sufficating heat and the loud hammering of the workers. Half-finished armor hung everywhere, as well as swords and shields. Every so often, something delicate intended as a love gift could be found. One tended to sweat the moment one walked inside the forge and only the heartiest could survive there. It was not the kind of envirment one would expect to find Eukleia, goddess of glory and the chaste bride. As the daughter of Hepheastus and Aglaia, she often could be found in the company of her stepmother, Aphrodite. She and her three sisters were the younger Graces, attendants to the goddess of love and beauty. It was not always an easy job, Aphrodite was paranoid about the beautiful women around her and often jealous if she thought they recieved any praise. Eukleia had been banished from Aphrodite's side after the goddess of love believed her son, Eros, smiled a little longer at Eukleia then her. Which, was silly since Eros was madly in love with his wife, Psyche both having been stabbed by Eros' own love arrows. With no where else to go, Eukleia went to her father's home. You're miserable, Hepheastus said, looking at his daughter. Why not see if Aphrodite has forgiven you? I did nothing wrong, Eukleia said. And if I return before she's ready to forgive me, then I'm in even more trouble. It's best if I just wait. Eukleia did not look anything like her father. Where Hepheastus was ugly and twisted, reputed to be the most unpleasing of the gods, Eukleia took after her mother. She was tall and slender with high perky breasts and a sweet swell to her hips. Her black hair, much like the color of her father's, was plastered to her head and stuck to her face and neck. She did not feel very beautiful, and she knew that if her stepmother saw her, it would make Aphrodite feel better. She just had to wait for Aphrodite to make one of her rare trips to the forge. Hepheastus sighed, pushing a beefy hand through his sweat-slicked hair. Well, if you're going to be staying here, at least you can help. I have a few pieces of armor for Ares. You can deliver them for me. Eukleia smiled. Her father hated Ares, the lover of Aphrodite. Though her father had the rare affair, he could never stay away from his legal wife. And Aphrodite knew it, taunting him with her many affiars and perfect children. Ares, protected by Zeus' desire for peace in Olympus, had no fear of Hepheastus and that angered the artisen god even more. I'll deliver them, she said. Just let me take a bathe and change first.
Thread: Fire and Blood (Chocolate x Methos)

Enyalius very much looked his fathers son. Indeed to his annoyance the resemblance was often considered sufficient that he was taken to be his father. The youthful war god had taken to growing a beard that covered the strong form of his chin and drifted up along the lower reaches of his cheeks and his lip. Dark eyes, were set against olive hued skin and closely cropped dark hair. He was the son of two gods of war Ares and Enyo, hence his body seemed formed in warlike perfection. His shoulders were broadly set apart and his form was of a muscular build. His torso had the chiselled appearance that the sculpture ever strove for, with each muscle rigidly defined and visible in its brawny power. A tunic of crimson and gold rested against his form. He remained for the moment in his fathers house. Although Ares himself had departed on some matter or another. Enyalius did not feel the stir of conflict or war within his blood, so he suspected that rather than sowing havoc upon the earth, his father was like as not sowing his seed in Aphrodite or some other woman. A bemused smile graced his lips at that particular thought as his fingers idly touched against the hair that graced his jaw. Mischievously he wondered if absent the beard his resemblance to his father was sufficient that in dim light the goddess of love could tell the difference. Although if he wanted a sure manner in which to bring his fathers wrath upon his head that would most definitely be it. Thus the experiment hed considered was likely to go for not. Indeed he was waiting for the armour that had been procured by his father for him. His mother had been rather persistent that he warranted the finest armour that could be obtained in the heavens or earth as a god of war. Although Enyalius had no illusions that his father had sought it as a great sign of favour towards him, rather like as not it was simply to revel in the joy of needling Haephestus as Ares and the god of the forge loathed each other with a passion. He could hardly blame the crafts god for his hatred of his father. After all the philandering of his wife was legendary at this point. Nor could one help but notice that Aphrodite had numerous children by Ares and yet not a one by Aphrodite. He could only imagine that it galled the lame god. He rather imagined that a less beguiling figure than Aphrodite would have been chased from his home and divorced many times over. None the less whatever contention existed it provided him with fine armour so he could hardly complain as he lounged with a cup of wine in hand.
Thread: Fire and Blood (Chocolate x Methos)

After her bath, Eukleia dressed herself in a chiton of light sea-blue with a gold beld, inlaid with gems just a touch darker then her dress. It was a gift from her father, something pretty for one of his pretty girls. The dress matched her eyes, he said. It also looked beautiful with her olive skin. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail and slipped on a dainty pair of soft sandals. She then went to get the armor from her father. You look too pretty to be delivering this stuff, Hepheastus said, pride in his eyes. Thank you, Father. She took the armor and left. She was to go to Ares' chambers in Olympus. Well, chambers made it seem so small. It was probably more like a home, one that housed not only Ares but a few of his kids. As Eukleia approached, she grew nervous. She had only seen Ares from afar, normally when he and Aphrodite were sneaking off for another tryst. She had heard of him, from her father. Hepheastus may not have been an ideal father, perferring his forges to actual contact, but he tried. Eukleia was probably the only among her sisters who was as protective of her sire as she was of her mother. She didn't trust Ares, thinking it scummy to sneak around with another man's wife. While her mother was not Hepheastus' wife, her mother also never repeated her indiscressions. Hepheastus was alone and Aglaia had many other lovers after him. When she arrived at the chambers, she squared her shoulders and walked in. She could see someone lounging in the main room. Thinking it was Ares, she walked over. I have your armor, she said. Father finished it this morning.