“Very well.” Sif finds no hesitation in Anya’s words, and opens the door to the shop. The blacksmith is hammering away, and Sif finds the smell of it – of steel turning to blade – welcome. The walls are lined with weapons, but it occurs to her that for someone of Anya’s size it may be best to have something custom made.
Yo Anya I heard you like metal so we put some metal in yo metal so you can metal while you metal
“Do you see anything that calls to you?”