Awkwardly smiling with somewhat wide eyes of both fretfulness and apology at the demi-Goddess as she offers him water, he mutters an "Oh, yes, thank you…", as embarrassed that he hasn’t spent more time practicing his magic, over manual creation, as the Mountain is over accidentally demanding he be less soft, and that he drink the water she’d made. Finding her awkward expression after what she says more than endearing enough to make up for her short nature, the stallion is also the sort who understands what being socially inept is like, better than most.

The sort of strain such mental work put on a fellow was beyond the toil of muscle, and, it having been many years since his work as a Glazier, he’d easily forgotten just how swiftly one’s energy could be sapped by the art of making with the mind, and spirit. Perhaps it did not help that he had focused so much on others since his return, he thinks, finding the water within the magical aquatic bowl perfectly cool and pleasant to the taste, as if drawn directly from the heart of a mountain spring. Curious about that but also distracted with the wonder as to whether or not he should spend more time and energy on himself, the stallion is silent and contemplative, rather than inquiring about the fine art of magically procuring delicious water.

"I think I can finish it now," he assures the others, moving back to the mostly finished work, and turning his attentions on the rest. Furrowing through his pouches for the last of his copper stones, he seals the sides away in the metal. Touching his nose to the entirely covered surface, he is pleased to note that the heat radiates nicely through the red metal, just like he’d hoped. Now, he just had to cover it in a layer of something that wouldn’t tarnish with rust…

Returning from the metal lined area, he stands back, and begins to vigorously dig through his pouches, now, rocks occasionally tumbling out and thumping across the earth. Iron won’t do, nor would whatever this brittle black stuff is… (lead) hm, silver patinas, what about this?

It’s a very large stone which glimmers with a bright, shining silver metal. He’d fished it from a river, and hadn’t had to polish it a bit, which made him think it would rust or wear out from being submerged. Dropping the platinum meteor stone on the ground, he pushes it towards Isopia with his nose.

"Do you think one of your dragons could smash this up?" he asks, knowing from his childhood that dragons were great at breaking rocks by dropping them from great heights; he, most regretfully, just didn’t have his own, yet.

[ OOC: Rust free lining and we're good ]

Dragomir