Stars, Lashan does not miss being that age, or the bristly paranoid loner period she'd had some years after that. Children!

Vena, peering closely up at Guts, is relieved. She'd thought arguing that it wasn't going out of her way and would actually help her - and really, knives had been in the planning before they saw him so it's not a lie - would be more convincing than insisting that she wants him to have something to remember her and everyone with. Or that it feels grown up and cool to have a mercenary going around carrying something she made and none of her friends would be able to say the same. But hey, she doesn't have to argue!

"Can I have one of the claws? I bet I can put it in the handle! It'll just take, you know, some carving and glue, I guess," she says, frowning with concentration as she tries to work out how to implement that sudden burst of inspiration.

"I wouldn't overuse the glue," Lashan advises her. "Think about grip and positioning. Would it make it harder to use?"

"Ummm." Vena rubs her face in thought, getting smudges everywhere. "Maybe the sheath instead. Or... along the spine of the handle? But the wrapping would hide it, huh..."