[ having zhongli show up WAS a surprise. Zhongli was one of the few people who might remember his birthday, merely on virtue of knowing him for so long, but the man didn't exactly strike him as a party-type, especially not with how most of the household was getting down into drinks with Dante's style of music playing, games of cards and--whatever the hell beer pong is was happening in the livingroom away from where he and Zhongli currently stand. Probably the kitchen, away from most of the noise, honestly. ]
I did not expect you to show up to a party like this. It was planned by one of Dante's friends, and certainly not my usual kind of scene. [ and yet he... doesn't sound unhappy? not really. But he is glancing down at Zhongli's hands as he's offered a gift--again, it's unexpected, but he'd never refuse something from this man, much less someone who went through the effort to actually bring a gift.
He takes the box carefully in his hands, and he's nearly meticulous about opening it. once the blade is revealed, Zhongli would see the concentration in his eyes as he immediately, habitually, starts to try to identify it. Going over the handle, the pommel, the hand guard, and finally the blade itself, with the little inscriptions that held the slight magic blessing encased inside.
It's a fantastic piece, and it's beautiful--breathtaking even, but... ]
There is no manufacturer's mark, nor can I see any telltale scoring that comes from use or age, nor the mark of whatever blacksmith that made it.
[ Which makes his head come up. His eyebrows going up. Way up. ]
...My friend, did you make this by hand?
[ did he just get a fucking hand-crafted, custom-made dagger from the hands of the oldest fucking being on earth? He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. ]
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I did not expect you to show up to a party like this. It was planned by one of Dante's friends, and certainly not my usual kind of scene. [ and yet he... doesn't sound unhappy? not really. But he is glancing down at Zhongli's hands as he's offered a gift--again, it's unexpected, but he'd never refuse something from this man, much less someone who went through the effort to actually bring a gift.
He takes the box carefully in his hands, and he's nearly meticulous about opening it. once the blade is revealed, Zhongli would see the concentration in his eyes as he immediately, habitually, starts to try to identify it. Going over the handle, the pommel, the hand guard, and finally the blade itself, with the little inscriptions that held the slight magic blessing encased inside.
It's a fantastic piece, and it's beautiful--breathtaking even, but... ]
There is no manufacturer's mark, nor can I see any telltale scoring that comes from use or age, nor the mark of whatever blacksmith that made it.
[ Which makes his head come up. His eyebrows going up. Way up. ]
...My friend, did you make this by hand?
[ did he just get a fucking hand-crafted, custom-made dagger from the hands of the oldest fucking being on earth? He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. ]