The strawberry blond made a non-committal noise, shifting his weight ever so slightly to slide his bow from his back and hold it out to the younger Inarta without any particular sign of hesitation. It was a simple weapon; he’d made it himself. Unlike so many of his pieces, there were no real embellishments to the longbow. It was shorter than the average, but so was Yarrin. What stood out, or was at least telling of the bowyer’s aesthetic, was the attention to the grain of the wood. He’d chosen wood with dark grain and carved the bow so that every curve seemed somehow even more accentuated by the lines in the wood itself.
Still, the thing had a few nicks in it; the bow was used but well cared for.
Yarrin was still smiling a little at Twik’s bodily commentary. He wasn’t sure he had anything to add; he didn’t often find people enough inspiration for bows. At least, their bodies. Sometimes a good weapon required an entire personality to spawn it.
“I don’t actually consider myself that fantastic at carving artistic things unless they also have function.” He admitted this like it was somewhat shameful, though he still saw himself as an artisan, “Though I’d have to agree that a bit of flair seems to look good on a well-made bow.”
He grinned a little while adding, “Not everything I’ve made is expensive, either.”