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Henry laughed. "You're freaking rich. What would you do with the money?" He held up the containers and stuck them in the cool water, took them back out, and slid them out. He Picked up the cauldron and poured more of the mixture into the long bar and arrow heads, and returned the cauldron to the fire. He pulled out his mallet and began to bang it to form the shape he wanted.

Mercy resisted the urge to glare at this boy. It's not that she hated rich people, she just hated the way they acted. If she had on thousandth of the money that this guy must've had, she wouldn't be so willing to just get rid of it.

Henry laughed. "I bet you would. Or use it to wipe. Or blow your nose." After the first bar and arrow heads were perfect, he stuck them in the ice cold water. He took them out, setting them down on the nearest table.

((So that'swhatshesaid are you rich in real life?))
Henry looked up and smiled. "My uncle taught me how to be a blacksmith when he decided I was old enough." He took the other molds and put them in the cool water. After they were solid enough, he popped them out. He took his mallet and shaped them the same way, then cooled them in the ice cold water.

Henry shrugged. "It's more of a natural talent. I don't necessarily remember the exact things he taught me. It took several years, and he was going fast, so I think it would take a while for me to teach you." He took out new molds for a handle and bars for the arrows and poured the remnants into them. While he waited, he went into the back for more supplies.

Henry slowly shook his head. "I don't think I have the time." He slightly smiled and returned to his work. After about twenty minutes, he held up the bow. It had iron cable as the bow string, and the bow itself was a light bronze color. it was a recurve bow, guaranteed great power. The hand had a rubber grip and two cave ins on each side, so she could shoot two arrows at once. The arrows themselves had broad headed tips and a thin shaft, the same color as the bow itself. They had black and white striped feathers, about two-dozen. He smiled and handed the weapons over to her. "Good?"

»"What? Who could possible steal away your spotlight?" he asked in disbelief. After seeing just a small fraction of what she could craft, it was hard for him to believe that someone else, mainly a non-Hephaestus camper, could forge something more magnificent or quickly than Lyra. It just didn't seem possible.

He sat there for a moment, his arms crossed as Lyra began to forge up another request. Taking her time, Gabe became enthralled in the endless spray of sparks that ricocheted off the metal blade and her hammer coming in contact. Though several small sparks had jetted out in his direction, they died out before they came even close to him. Though it was minor, there was always a small, almost unnoticeable gust of cool wind coming from Gabriel. He had picked it up after several attempts of keeping himself cool at a relatively low cost of magic. The orb of wind he had produced earlier was for much more extreme cases, but he had cooled off enough from being outside that he only required his small cooling system for the moment.

Watching as the finished, he noticed something. Lyra had been competing with that other boy in the armory who was making a request for someone else. It was then that he realized who she had actually meant her last comment to be directed at. That boy. He looked back and forth between them, sensing a small clash of personality and pride for being great forgers. He laughed a bit, seeing how defensive Lyra was of her spot as one of, if not the most, skilled blacksmith in the camp. He gave up another round of applause for Lyra quietly as she finished up the other blade.

As she finished, she turned to him. He struck up a slight smile, about to praise her for her work. Without warning she handed him Ice Fire, the small mechanical dragon that she had showed him earlier. As it sat in the palm of his hands, he could feel the heat from being next to her while she forged that last sword. It released a small burst of steam as it hit his hand, but it didn't bother Gabe that much. Staring at it intently, Gabe turned back to Lyra with an expression that almost said What are you given me this for?

Shocked by the fact that she was giving him the dragon, he couldn't think of anything to say. Obviously, he said the first thing anyone is suppose to say while recieveing a gift.

"Oh...thanks. Again." he got out, looking back at the mechanical dragon. It squirmed around in his hand, then made an elongated screech, resembeling a yawn of some sort, then wrapped itself and laid down in his hand. He smiled and laughed at the little beast, then back up at Lyra. After she had upgraded Frostmourne and now given him this little mechanical comrade for all of nothing, he had to pay her back in someway. If dramchas weren't going to cut it, perhaps an object would instead.

"You're positive you want to give me this little guy? You won't miss him? Well, wait..." he said, in a state of realization.
"You could just make another one, couldn't ya? Yeah...I guess you don't mind. he said, laughing a bit at his sudden idiocy.

"You...really think that I could become that Counselor for Boreas?" he inquired, looking at Lyra as if she had lost it. Him? The Cabin Counselor? In his mind, that didn't seem likely.

S o n O f B o r e a s . .

. . . . . I W i l l N o t F a d e . . .