Titanium, a little bit of harsh iron ore …she lowers them into the forge in front of her before she turns and leaves to fetch a bucket of water the same color as her tears. 

It will strip away the unwanted flaws drawn to her impurity. 

She takes the molten metal, pouring it into her perfect molds flawlessly, it must be perfect.

Purging comes next. 

She gathers the newly molded red hot plates and turns to the bucket dunking each one in turn. 

The plate’s unique sheen is gone. 

Satisfied she turns back to the forge, she will reinforce them next. 

She takes the first of twenty eight and returns it to the forge. 

She will let the plate reheat before she begins to strengthen it. 

Satisfied with the heat of the plate, she brings the first plate to the anvil, choosing a hammer from the shelf. The plate is hard and unforgiving by nature,strength at its pinnacle, the metal almost completely black, save for a few silver streaks.

Exhaling, she raises the hammer and brings it down on the plate. 

The resounding clang of the first strike reverberates around her. It fades only when she nods her head in satisfaction and continues her work. 

She shapes the first plate to a torso fashioned from wood and leather, she cocks her head and studies the results with a keen eye. Eyes narrowing she takes the plate and puts it back in the flame, she is not satisfied yet. She repeats the same process until she is satisfied with the results. 

She gathers up the completed piece and begins once more, taking a plate from the neat pile next to the forge. 

Hours go by, darkness falling in around her, but she does not care, she only continues to work, never once pausing to admire the beautiful allure that is the night sky. 

She is finished shaping now. She gathers the plates back and without a sound turns to a small table in the corner of her small workspace. She does not want to be noticed, not yet and not like this. 

She lowers the plates down onto the table, and reaches under the table pulling out her finer tools. 

She files away any traces of weakness, before polishing away any remaining emotion. She uses a coarse, bland cloth to clean it all off and reveal the cold indifference of its sheer silvery black complexion. 

She returns to the torso model once more and fits the plates together, watching as they come together to form a seamless whole. There is only one thing missing now. She turns to the forge, and begins her last creation. 

The bang of metal engulfs the silence once more, then the hiss of steam, the grate of files and the silence of polish, before she returns to the shelf and picks up new tools, tools she has never used before.

She takes her burin and returns to her table, it is dark blue, the color of despair.

She sits down and begins carving away what she does not wish the world to see.

Light shines around her, morning has come. 

Silently she steps outside for the world to see. 

Her seamless silver-gray armor gleams beautifully against the morning light, but she can no longer share her smile upon seeing it, she tilts her head, beautifully etched mask gleaming. 

Everything had gone quiet, even the chirping of birds, as if the world knew that something precious had been lost.