And 'tis time to put more effort in for her, for her projects and her desires to spread fame to the wind on the speaking of her works.

All that he can do, he certainly will, as they slip away into her forge yet again, settling another time with eyes upon a sword, a weapon of war and purpose.

His stave when? Wait, no. A sword actually sounds nice, honestly...

Focus. He snaps himself to attention, sharp gaze settled keenly upon her hands at work, the monotonies made fascinating only by the paler obsidian of her calloused, rough hands for the moment daintily drawing away.

It's handed over to him, and he's already all but memorized it, watching every stroke of pencil against paper that created the final diagram.

" Of course. "

A soft nod, and he moves over. Knife, chisel, sanding utensil and paper for rough and finery being handled alike at the ready but not yet for his own hands, as it were far down the line. An easier set, an easier tending was made tenfold by Tezoxochel's precision, and so he spares none. To her specifications and diagram?

He makes it as perfect as it could be, so that she may continue, with his careful carving.
(Tezoxochel Coza)

In the meantime, Iosefka's work begins. Arcanium and orichalcum mix together into a golden, greenish slurry, soon overtaken by the overwhelming presence of gold flakes as she adds more to the crucible. Once it was ready, and once the mold was carved out, Iosefka would move it on to the next stage.

Exact measurements were necessary. Tezoxochel, of course, could be relied upon for precision work, and as she pours into the hilt of the blade mold, she'd stand back to let it cool.

The surface on top was a bit off, but as she eyes the blade's core against the shell itself, she'd finally get a good read for how many micrometers she needed to shave off.

Sandpaper, a hammer, and heat. Over and over she would polish down the hilt of the blade's slight impurities from the pouring process to ensure it would fit, slightly too large for the shell. But before she could do that, she'd lay the orichalcum-arcanium alloy out for Tezoxochel.

"Binding runes." She'd explain. "We need a bit of electricity running through it, to serve as a magnetic force preventing the blade from exploding and not reconstituting."
(Iosefka Coza)

It's not his first, and certainly won't be his last. She's better left to work with the metals, that which she does flawlessly, and let Tezoxochel handle the boring, the straightforward, and the monotonous if not also important tasks that he's qualified to handle.

The hand of a Runescribe is not a shaky, unskilled one, after all. And he's been practicing this craft for something like fifteen years, now. He certainly has his own talents.

But he comes back into his own with her next request, and he nods solemnly.

" Easily done. I'll be only a few moments. "

They won't be hasty, no, what his fingers and mana-tipped claw reach forward towards the alloy to do, what they begin to lightly, carefully, fancifully inscribe.

But his Rune mastery is hard to argue, and he dares claim so while willing show his seniority and veteran craftsmanship in his every effort.

These runes are some of many, a countless many woven to one's every purpose without fail in over a decade of work at the very peak of performance.

This blade is spared none of his attention to detail and care for functionality.
(Tezoxochel Coza)

And it was now that the rest of her work could be underway. Iosefka takes the roughshod pure metal grip and would begin to force the core into the kintsukuroi magmatic shell of the blade, a bit of grease used to at least slip the first half in. The hum of electricity can be felt at the very least across the arcanium, which is all she could expect.

Pretty soon the metal begins to stick, as if it had no business being put into the micrometers-too-small shell opening. But with some muscle, the blade gives way, and she can finally interlock both shell and arcanium handle together.

With that done, she'd get to the sanding. The two-handed hilt given a rough treatment of heat and sandpaper as she ground down until it was a fine, smooth finish from crossguard to pommel. It wasn't complete yet- no fool should hold orichalcum or arcanium with their bare hands - but it was just about done. Well, the hard work, at least.

"... OK. Good. Now. Now we just need afire mage to help." She'd explain. "Good work, Tez."
(Iosefka Coza)