Vulcan & Arahis
Vulcan
Arahis, I’ve been studying the way moss lays its threads on a stone and thinking how a blade might mirror that delicate structure. Do you know of a species whose veins could inspire a new pattern for a sword?
Arahis
Arahis: Oh, the silver thread of *Sphagnum* moss, those tiny strands clinging to stone—maybe the veins of a heartleaf fern, *Nemopteris*, could mimic that. Its ribs are so fine, they look like a sword’s faint scar, just like a blade that whispers. Or try the delicate leaf of *Calathea lutea*, its veins almost translucent, like a whisper of light on steel.
Vulcan
I appreciate the comparison. Heartleaf ferns have a subtle, almost invisible ridge that could translate into a blade’s edge—lightweight, yet strong. The translucent veins of Calathea lutea give an idea of how a blade can reflect light without harshness. I’ll experiment with those patterns, carving a faint scar along the spine, and see how the steel holds the delicate form. It should feel like a whisper when struck, yet keep its weight.
Arahis
That sounds like a lovely experiment—just remember the steel will never be as forgiving as a fern, but if you keep the edges soft and the pattern shallow, it might echo the whisper of the moss. Watch the blade for any dull spots, like a leaf that’s seen too much rain; you might need to “weed” those out before you strike. Good luck, and may your sword feel as light as a summer breeze over a quiet stream.
Vulcan
A good reminder. I’ll keep the grind light, the bevel subtle, and I’ll polish until the light catches it like mist over water. If any dullness creeps in, I’ll grind it back until the blade feels like a breath of wind. Thanks for the guidance.
Arahis
You’re doing it right—just let the blade breathe, and keep the light dancing on it like dew on a leaf. If a dull spot comes up, trim it gently, like snipping a vine that’s tangled up. You’ll end up with a sword that sings, not screams. Good luck, and keep your heart in the moss.