She focused on the flames of the forge and felt the heat of it on her face and body. It lit up her face and enhanced her golden hair and eyes. Those eyes were intent on the task at hand. The world melting away. Everything from what she wore to how she moved was efficient and practical. The motions of moving metal from the furnace to the anvil were automatic. Sweat dripped down her face, but went unnoticed. Clang. Clang. The sound and rhythm was her comfort and devotion. Clang. Clang. As her heavily muscled and tattooed arms brought down the hammer, she began to softly hum to herself. This was her element. This was her temple. People came and went, but metal stayed the same.