Despite the lighter weight, the longsword was most certainly more his style. It looked worn, but well-maintained. It must have been her companion for however many eons she wielded a sword. He'd have to be mindful of the angle - Lashan was taller by a good amount when she stood straight. A vertical enough alignment would drag the scabbard accross the ground. He adjusts it into place, the leather straps chirring with the swift and sure movement of his hands.

Safflower seemed to have read his thoughts and started to pace after Thistle as soon as he slips past the gate. Lashan's pride was wounded by the whole affair, that much was obvious, but he doesn't consider it any of his business to pry or try to soothe her.

"Didn't expect a stubborn old woman like you listen to what some priest had to say." he says instead.

The remark comes once they were out of earshot and alone with the trees and the dirt path. It had only been a week, but he missed this already. The freedom of venturing into the world with almost nothing but a weapon and his clothes. He keeps his visor up for visibility - bandits in the woods would likely set up an ambush, and he'd need his eyes to be sharp.