Iskra
this heartwood was cut too damn deep
Iskra starts on the spot, turning to glance across at Deimos at the admission. "Oh," he says after a moment of observing the Sword, apologetic and sheepish at once. "Sorry, I honestly thought you had mastered everything." A boyish belief, he supposes, but shrugs it away with focus back on the task at hand. It's nearing completion, and now is the time to ensure it does not find too little or too much heat, or break being transferred.
Deimos proves himself capable all the same, reacting swiftly to the command and pulling free the block of what they've made. Iskra snuffs out the flame, the air wielded eddying it about for a moment in a confetti of cinders and ash. Wiping some of the sweat from his brow that had collected with the insistence of the forge, he sighs happily at the sight of the blue goldstone sparkling before them. "That looks perfect," he nods, relief settling into the smile he offers. "It'll cool naturally, water would splinter it. Now's the time to shape it though, and I think your earth magic would still work on the componenets."
Deimos proves himself capable all the same, reacting swiftly to the command and pulling free the block of what they've made. Iskra snuffs out the flame, the air wielded eddying it about for a moment in a confetti of cinders and ash. Wiping some of the sweat from his brow that had collected with the insistence of the forge, he sighs happily at the sight of the blue goldstone sparkling before them. "That looks perfect," he nods, relief settling into the smile he offers. "It'll cool naturally, water would splinter it. Now's the time to shape it though, and I think your earth magic would still work on the componenets."
I can't see the wood for the trees
