cyrus sat at his workbench, his face hidden by a welding mask as he melted two pieces of copper together. the workshop smelled of fire and was disorganized, though he always seemed to know where everything was. his hands worked quickly and precisely with the small instruments, covered by the thick leather gloves that he wore whenever he was working. cyrus’s cream-coloured, dirt-tinged tunic was partially untied at the top, his collarbones partially visible. he had a subtle silver chain with a cross hanging from his neck- he always did. he wasn’t religious at all, but his mother had given it to him when he was little.

he didn’t raise his head immediately when he heard soft footsteps stopping in the doorway. after a moment, the flame flickered out and he set down his work and the blowtorch, pulling the welding mask off of his face. his stormy gray eyes glinted in the dim light as he smiled. “you’re early today.” he flashed a charming grin, the same one as always.