Fingers curling, attempting to gauge any kind of response from them, his accident whilst helping to excavate a Urayan safe -haven. This had backfired.. horribly.

Leaving him scarred, and with the lack of usage in his hands, a fact that seemed to be getting better slowly. With his nerves having been shot to Azrael, there wasn't much he could do in the wake of his work load at first, having to utilize gravity for even the simplest of tasks.

Months later, he has managed to keep up his daily duties, both encompassing Danarium and that of his family as well. Walking onto to the training field, somewhat on a mock-patrol, Nayerem resting in arms, he exudes a constant repulsion of gravity around his hands, only slightly, so as to not have the child weigh on them; the strain most likely proving to be unbearable.

His gaze falling on Uriel, and co. A rather blue looking woman, and a ookami present beside him. He makes his way over to the party, Nayerem's head resting against his chest.

"Oi, you ever hear word of that Smithy?" Forgoing greetings for the moment, he gets straight to the point. Despite his current inability to successfully utilize his hands in regards to extended combat with a sword in tow.

He still sought his ideal weapon.. Even more so now, certain that he would recover from his affliction, he would be in dire need of such a weapon upon the day of his full-recovery.

Hands clenching in response at this, unbeknownst to the Ookami, due in fact to his nerves still being ruptured, his body reacting to his drive.