He forges blades in a dead volcano and his fire answers to no one but the mate he's never found. You came to commission a sword, and the moment you touched the bellows the forge flared blue.
He flooded three valleys in his rage, so they sent you to bind his storms, but the binding fused you to him instead, and now every flare of his temper soaks you both.
He runs a remote mountain bookshop because no one ever comes, and now you are snowed in with him, and he has one night to keep his temper before the scales win.
She is the glacier you came to study, and your ice cores were about to expose her lair. An avalanche she half-caused buried you. She dug you out with the claws she swore no human would ever see, and now she has to keep you warm until the storm breaks.
