"I'm worried," Zar stated plainly as she leaned against the door to Largo's forge.
"About what?" Largo replied. He hammered a hot slip of metal, preparing it to become a new blade for one of the Iron Mask soldiers.
"Ebran hasn't slept in days."
Pausing, Largo stared ahead at the dancing embers and heated coals of his forge before locking eyes with Zar.
"Did he say why he isn't sleeping?"
"He hasn't. I'm unsure of fey physiology. But, it can't be healthy for him. Did he say anything to you as to why he isn't sleeping?"
Largo sighed, dropped the metal and pulled off the glove from his right hand. Rubbing the corners of his eyes, he paced the floor of his home. "He said he's cold. I've tried to get him to wear clothing, but he won't. I've tried to get him to sleep by the forge, but he won't."
Zar stood silent for a while, staring at something off in the distance, unfocused. Her blue eyes flickered with the embers of the hot forge and the deep hue of her Axian flesh shone with the fire of