Forums The Undercurrent Writing and stuff
Silas considered this, his hands tugging at the dry grass beneath him. He pulled blades from the ground, twirled them in his fingers.
He was more of the blacksmiths ... what? Helper? Assistant? Even assistant was too much. He carried heavy things from one side of the shop to the other, reached tall places others couldn't.
No, helper was all he was to the blacksmith. But it paid, and kept him strong.
Assistant was more of what he was to the printer. There he laid the plates, printed the pages, inventoried inks and paper.
Assistant wasn't a word that was used at the printer, nor was apprentice. Somehow, Silas suspected such titles would give too much credit to the blacksmiths boy, in the eyes of the printmaker.
But that was all right Silas reflected, releasing the strands of grass from his hands and leaning against the tree once more. He folded his hands in his lap, looking more like a man at rest than a newly made murderer should.
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Having you as a Voltie would be awesome.