Vena stares up at him while she waits for his response, defiant and just this side of tearful.
:That's about as good as you're going to get, little one,: Lashan sends when Guts finally replies. Trying to hold on to someone who wants to leave never works the way the heart wants it to and she dearly doesn't want her girl to press further. There's only so much anyone can expect from someone else, particularly someone dragged lashing out from off of a battlefield not much more than a month ago.
Vena swipes at her eyes with the heel of her hand and tries to take refuge in the quick-fading anger that swells up in her so readily. "I know. You better not be laughing at me or saying I'm a baby. Here. You probably don't deserve this, but you should take it anyway."
She pulls out a knife in a primitive leather sheath and holds it up. The handle is dark-stained wood and decorated with a single, somewhat shaky calligraphic letter carved in and stained black with walnut juice, and with a short, knotted loop of cord holding one very small, lemon-shaped eye bead in blue and white.
Her knife is made from someone else's shattered sword and it does have the look and feel of a glorified shard rather than something folded and reshaped. The point is sharply angular and most of the metal is dark, still bearing the marks of the hammer though she'd tried to file it smooth. Only one side has an edge, and that's very sharp but scalloped and uneven. This is a knife rather than a dagger, and pretty petite for someone like Guts.
Now Lashan's looking rather intently at the boy, because she sees a lot of flaws in her apprentice's work. She hadn't corrected them as they appeared, Vena needs to build confidence and willingness to make mistakes instead of copying one 'right' way by route, and she also doesn't want him pointing out those same flaws.
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:That's about as good as you're going to get, little one,: Lashan sends when Guts finally replies. Trying to hold on to someone who wants to leave never works the way the heart wants it to and she dearly doesn't want her girl to press further. There's only so much anyone can expect from someone else, particularly someone dragged lashing out from off of a battlefield not much more than a month ago.
Vena swipes at her eyes with the heel of her hand and tries to take refuge in the quick-fading anger that swells up in her so readily. "I know. You better not be laughing at me or saying I'm a baby. Here. You probably don't deserve this, but you should take it anyway."
She pulls out a knife in a primitive leather sheath and holds it up. The handle is dark-stained wood and decorated with a single, somewhat shaky calligraphic letter carved in and stained black with walnut juice, and with a short, knotted loop of cord holding one very small, lemon-shaped eye bead in blue and white.
Her knife is made from someone else's shattered sword and it does have the look and feel of a glorified shard rather than something folded and reshaped. The point is sharply angular and most of the metal is dark, still bearing the marks of the hammer though she'd tried to file it smooth. Only one side has an edge, and that's very sharp but scalloped and uneven. This is a knife rather than a dagger, and pretty petite for someone like Guts.
Now Lashan's looking rather intently at the boy, because she sees a lot of flaws in her apprentice's work. She hadn't corrected them as they appeared, Vena needs to build confidence and willingness to make mistakes instead of copying one 'right' way by route, and she also doesn't want him pointing out those same flaws.