She wakes up slowly, the last of the languid warmth in her bones seeping out alongside a little grumbly groan. Mornin' breaks and waits for no one, really. 

An arm flicks out and shoves aside her weighted blanket - blessed thin', that - as she hops out of bed, and ambles over to her workspace's little tea station - it's nothing more than a big storage cupboard on a pair of poles, with a little formation for water conjury and heating to get it just right stuck on another steel slab to hold her boiler, but she's really has grown fond of the thing. 

She pops open the cupboard with a flick of her fingers, and goes and makes her tea - a nice aromatic black one, this time - she's feeling a little more straightlaced, this morning. 

A little rueful snort slips out of her nose as she glances around her not-quite-hole-in-the-ground, taking in the bare steel warding poles that keep it from being too much of a headache in bad weather, the places where the concrete finish stops to show the craggy stone beneath and around her, and the workspace she's sprung up around it. There's a proper fire pit, a well-used hammer-and-anvil, and a few big ol' contraptions for precise metalcutting when she can't be arsed to shape things purely through the harmony of steel and flame, and the other little sundry accoutrements of a proper smithy. Heck, she's even got ones of those newfangled sword forges from the OTC - the mechanical control of the fire on even the crappier models is amazing, really, and adapting it to work well on local steel was a fun lil journey. It fits in pretty nicely, if she might say so herself, even though it always felt like it was supposed to be the center piece of a travelling setup, to her. 

She smiles wistfully at her wrack of weapons, too, wandering over to take another look at 'em - her talents as a smithsage have always leaned a little militaristic, but there's just something satisfying about seeing a cutlass cut the with the strength of the seas or a spear slam down with the lightning of the heavens. They're good tools, too, for the right buyer, and she hasn't done too badly for herself. But c',mon, girl! It's a new age, a new dawn, and everyone knows that there's a new order 'neath the heavens, here. It's not like she's put down too many roots to cut away - just... this, really, a half-cave half open air forge she nabbed 'cause there was a decent spirit vein to exploit, and that's hardly anything at all, compared to what she's seen in those pictures they love to flaunt of the core.