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"Oh, please. You're cute when you're trying too hard."
Angel teased him, the fox taking a moment to finish up that blade before she would take a step back, stretch out her arms... and blink, as Silver went right for some paper. The fox might not have been able to understand the words, but the pictures and the diagrams were something that she could naturally see. As the fox peered over his shoulder, her tail gave a flick as she looked on with interest.
It was as if she understood every nuance, every line, and a slow grin started to perk from the edge of her lips. Her hands reached up, resting right onto Silver's shoulders, giving them a firm rub.
"Its only natural for blades to evolve, wolf. I don't know what kind of 'mon your master was - but if he was any good with blades, he'd know that he'd be surpassed by his kin." She grinned, baring a fang, carefully running a hand down the edge of that traced line, as if imagining the blade's sharpness. Her eyes narrowed, her ear flicked as Silver said those next words.
And her claw would edge right on out, giving Silver a firm scratch over his chin.
Silver felt his face turn red and he’d rub at his neck awkwardly; it had sounded kind of like that huh? The silvermon shifted a little bit and allowed the fox to look over his shoulder. They were in depth and seemed to gain a lot of details the longer you looked at them. There were some elements that may not have made sense to people that were not familiar with blades. But both of them were masters in different regards.
Even though silver still was only an apprentice. Only ever just one. He had never been made a master; never given his own steps. Only one mon could do that and he was long long long dead… The silvermon shivered a little bit at feeling those hands on his shoulders; giving that rub. He’d manage a weak smile up at angel.
”I’m not so sure if I’ve surpassed him. I’m still just an apprentice. Every blade of his always sang and always seemed to be living. He was…”
Rash. Arrogant. Full of himself. Powerful. Prominent. His gaze held steel and his multiple arms held a thousand tools. Always working on the next big thing and never satisfied with any of his work.
”...Something else for sure. But I was his only apprentice so he must have seen something in me.”
The silvermon chuckled and tilted his head as the renamon traced that blade. There wouldn’t be a bite to this paper; there wouldn’t be much to it. This blade would be everything he would hope for and the silvermon exhaled a little bit before he felt that scratch over his chin.
”There wouldn’t be much of a point for me to try no?”
He’d shift a bit and look up to angel; considering something then thinking better of it for the moment. He’d collect his notes and after he had everything he’d go over them with angel. Pointing out where they would be starting and what they’d need… Which was everything they had on hand amusingly enough. Thankfully he didn’t need to explain too much…
Fifteen minutes or so later they’d be in that makeshift smithy. It was small, cramped and honestly hot as hell but the silvermon didn’t even seem to notice the heat. He had been working with the flames and deadly manner of work for a long time. The flames of the forge were low and it wasn’t even long before they were roaring up in front of him at full blast.
His focus was the blade. His focus was the every little nuance of the blade. Angel would be directed if she even needed to. She would be an entire extra set of hands for him to use.
First they would need to maintain that insanely high temperature. Which would take a little bit to get right. Then they would need to get all the metal in place, lined up and then… Well they’d need the mold. A single use mold that would never be able to be pieced back together.
Something that silver had spent his off-time making between all the practicing. Every line and every little groove of the sword filling out like a well during the rain water. Or at least it would. The fire burned hotter and hotter… and hotter. And once it was ready? Silver would start feeding the various metals into their respective ‘areas’ of each container they were in. The first to go was the easiest to work with. Coppers, silvers and the various other conductive metals.
It would take quite some time for the digichrome to even start melting, but they didn’t need to tend to it too much. They had other things that needed to be worked on. While silver was close to the flame; he would have angel work on the hilt that he had set aside. There was a swath of notes and diagrams that the renamon could refer to if she needed it. Thankfully these ones weren’t written in whatever ancient tongue he used for everything else.
Then came the hardest part of the job.
Filling the mold, shifting and managing the metal in such a way that it’d fill out where he needed to. The intricate webbing of the copper that matched through the silver and steel… It was a dizzying maneuver and the many different layers were attended to all at once.
Silver’s hands were a whirlwind of motion and the smith truly strutted his stuff as the time passed. Every motion was spent just right, every moment and power that he put into this blade was made right. He wasn’t just smithing this blade.
He was imbuing his power into it. Crackles of electricity arced off of his body, teasing and fiercely burrowing themselves into the molten hot blade. That part of the process didn’t seem to be intentional. His body was just doing it all their own.
Once the centerpiece of the blade was finished silver’s body would stop for once. He’d look along the molten metal as it started to cool. There was some processes here that molded together even if they were out of place. It was such a whirlwind of activity it was impossible to know what was done first and what was done last at this point!
Then came the hammering, each slam of the hammer he had to use for this reverberating through the anvil and the mon’s body. Every placement of the hammer was perfect. Every blow shifting and moving the blade how he needed it. Once he was done with that it would be ready. It would need it’s attention.
He’d grit his teeth and using a pair of heavy metal tongs would insert it into a huge container of specialized oil. The blade practically screamed and the electrical energy that was within the blade lanced outwards; dancing along his form as though it was complaining. Leaving small burns here or there but ultimately that didn’t seem to bother him as much as before.
Silver’s attention turned to the digichrome. The entirety of the blade other than that had been hammered out. His tail shifting to and fro, his ears flicking every which way. Even his wings seemed to be ill at ease. The silvermon strode forward with that glorious purpose and it wasn’t even two moments before the silvermon was working his magic with the digichrome.
Such love. Such tender care. It danced for him, it was made into the edge he needed. But he called upon it to do more, to give him more. It whined, it moaned, it screamed and shouted. He pushed it, he let it struggle against him. Tiring itself out and gently placing it to the locales of his blade where they needed it most. An intricate and masterfully woven piece. Crackling with energy as it warped and shifted through the blade.
Digichrome was unlike any metal. Unlike anything that you could get your hands on. A master or an apprentice knew this. A master or apprentice knew that the metal, living, dead or whatever state it was in needed the gentle care of a proper smith. It danced for him. It made his life flash before his eyes. Every edge and every moment that he was given…
A single word slipped out. A powerful. Simple word.
The name of the sword. A sword that had no name like he once had no name would mean nothing. Nothing at all. His grip shifted and the digichrome become a maelstrom around the centerpiece of it all. Crackling with energy. Crackling with power barely uncontained.
Silver motion for angel. Motioned for her to come close. To hand him that hilt. It was what would hold everything together. Every loving detail. Every controlling moment. His breath whispered out to it. And… It wasn’t long before the blade itself reached out to both it’s creator and that hilt. Locking together and becoming one. Truly one.
There was a small crackle of energy and the smith breathed out.
Hours? Days? Weeks? How long would they have been at this? Regardless of the answer silver would not have left the locale whatsoever. He would have worked through his bodies needs but he wasn’t some wayward husk of a mon. He had been in his element. Completely so. That single word slipping out of his mouth again.
'Something else'? No, Angel already sensed the slight animosity in Silver's voice, and almost snarled in response. "A blade - notwithstanding my team, of course - isn't any more living than its wielder. It becomes an extension of its very wielder. For this, your first project in ages..."
The fox grinned.
"You're going to find out exactly what that means."As for Angel's involvement in all of this?
She proved to be efficient, but she also seemed to work at her own pace, and in her own world. The fox wore a face-mask and had earbuds in the entire time, wires trailing to an iPod strapped to her upper arm. The former kept the smell of smoke out of her face, and the latter helped her slip right into her element. She maintained the temperature of that makeshift forge, as well as moved to work on that hilt. It had to be something that could handle a high initial load, while evenly distributing the charge to the rest of the blade. That meant using the softer metal of copper, while managing to keep it durable enough to support both the weight of the blade and the impact of enemy attacks.
And, unlike a sword, it couldn't just be hammered into shape. So the fox entered her own state of focus, carefully shaping several different molds to layer the blade correctly. With no exaggeration, this project took almost as long as the blade itself. But as it came to the end, a good while later, she would have it ready: a strong hilt, with several 'points' of copper specked on the outside. It led right into the core - a mixture of silver and copper that kept the inside stable enough, while allowing it to at least flow Silver's impressive current through to the rest of the blade.
It would click into place, the fox giving a grin as she finally took one of those ear-buds out - blinking, and then rolling her eyes as that 'name' slipped past his fangs.
"Alright, 'Romeo'. Eden's still gotta cool before we make any final adjustments." She'd sigh, pulling away that now-soot-filled face-mask. "I've heard worse names."
Silver blinked a little bit and looked down at his design. He’d absorb what angel said and flicked his ears. Was his master a fool? Was he one for following in his footsteps? It was hard for him to tell and he’d slowly nod his head.
”My first… real project since before I was a spirit. So… give or take…”
He’d count on his fingers and then make a face; he didn’t really like how far he was able to count and eventually just shook his head. It was a long time, a very long time. Enough to see some towns or cities fall from grace. He’d exhale and well… he would find out what they meant.
Unlike angel silver didn’t need as much protection, or rather he seemed to be fine without it. Some of them were needed, yes, like the gloves for when dealing with molten hot metal and sometimes he’d need an apron or facemask. But for a lot of it his bare body was all that he seemed to need. It would take some serious heat for him to even feel a tickle from a natural source.
He looked over the hilt and admired it for what it was. Flicking his tired ears and leaned back against the wall. He could sleep for days after what they had just done. He’d look up at angel and manage a small smile. Another chuckle rolled through him and he’d nod his head.
”Shouldn’t be too long… But she’s ready to see the world just like their smith. Romeo huh?”
He’d rub at his neck and manage a sad smile as he looked down to the blade. It told a story just like he did; but unlike it… His story was far far longer. He’d trace a claw along the edge of the blade and that sad smile stuck around for a bit.
”The name of my old hometown. It lasted a long time. I don’t remember which war took it or the nameless graves that were there. But it was a happy place. I’d like to think I’m always carrying a small part of it with me.”
He’d chuckle lightly and run a hand through his fur; sighing before looking up to angel.
”It was really the only one I could think of. I’m not as creative as my master with his endless waves of them. Legend or not he gave every single blade of his one. But I suppose that’s where we differ. Well. That and the forms we take.”
He looked far more relaxed here and much more at ease than he did in the arena. It was like he could relax, like he could actually take his time. In the middle of things he thought too hard and did too much… But not to the same degree as others that the renamon would know. Perhaps it was just because he really hadn’t been out and about fighting the good fight.
"Right, presuming we're ready to see the world after a full day of breathing low oxygen and tirelessly hammering at that weapon. Ugh, I can already feel it in my back..." She'd groan, stretching out, letting her tired joints pop as she stepped away from the work area. From there, she'd start the process of getting everything cleaned up - the scrap and shavings pushed into a crate, along with the broken tools and molds. Anything that was still usable was properly set aside.
And all the while, she found her ear flicking. Learning just what 'Eden' was, and perhaps more interesting than that, just what kind of master his mentor was.
Someone who gave a name to every sword he made.
"Hmph. There is a saying about that: 'Any powerful blade is given a name. And that name, in turn, curses the blade.'" She sighed, her eyes briefly resting on 'Eden'. "It creates an identity for the sword, suggesting that it is something 'apart' or 'greater than' its smith, or its wielder. And yes, its all superstitious bullshit - but I'm starting to get an idea of what kind of man your mentor was. In my opinion, a sword's not worth naming until its done something worth a damn."
She chuckled - it wasn't something she held too much weight to. And as the fox was thanked, she'd walk up, rest a hand on his shoulder, and look at the wolf from the corner of her eye.
"Oh, you'll know when you're thanking me, hun. I'm gonna hit the shower."
Silver let out a chuckle and helped angel along with cleaning up the work area. There was no point in him sitting around while there was work to still be done. There wasn’t much left that they could use. The mold was worthless and the few broken tools would just be broken down and melted anyways.
”First time I’m really hearing about that. We’ll see what happens.”
He’d turn his head to follow where the fox was staring. The blade that they had worked together to make whole. He’d run his hand close to it, though he wouldn’t touch it directly. No it was still too hot for that. He’d manage a small smile and then chuckle softly.
”Well. No turning back on it now now is there? And what sort of man was he other than a fool in your words?”
Silver shook his head; that smile still worn on his face and the wolf flicked his ears as he felt that hand placed on his shoulder. He’d blink a little bit when she slipped past him. His hand coming out to grasp at her but he stopped himself short.
He’d sniff at his own fur and make a little face. Maybe he should do the same? He’d sigh a bit and just give another shake of the head. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of life he was going to live or what sort of mess he was going to make in the proccess. His eyes turning to the blade that just sat there. Cooling off. He could already see the small bits he’d have to fix… the small bits he’d have to even out and where he would place the soul of the blade.
”I suppose I should do the same…”
The silvermon moved to close up the smithy, no one would likely muck with the area thankfully. Everyone knew better and the silvermon would head off after the fox. Stepping carefully around general people and well… If he caught up to her he’d grin.
”Maybe the next blade is one we can make for you hmm?”