Chachanji blinked, roused from his thoughts about his friend back in Ul'dah and the smithy around him general as Osvald's words were turned to him. When he made mention of V'aleera, the Lalafell turned his violet gaze upon her almost on reflex before returning it to the mountain of a Highlander as he continued to speak. Both the points that were raised were conditions that the Dragoon had made known to him up on the second floor of the Congregation even before this meeting was planned. And his agreement with them were just as tentative now as they were then, both for differing reasons.
First and foremost was the supervision: he understood the reasoning, but there was a cultural aspect to the whole thing that had stayed his hand initially when it was brought up and did so again now. In Doma, and especially for generational smith families like his own, certain smithing techniques were considered family secrets. They were not to be known by those not of the family's bloodline or joined to it through recognized marriage. He was already committing a bit of a cultural faux pas already by delving into the ancient weapon V'aleera discovered, seeking to decipher a lost technique of this kind while not being of its maker's bloodline. To go beyond that and wantonly spill such secrets to someone - even someone who may or may not be related to a close friend of his - who did not understand the weight of the situation worried him immensely.
Comparatively, the second point was the simpler of the two and hopefully easier to rectify. He was more than willing to aid in their efforts, to provide what skill and energy he could on the matter of rebuilding. However, his training and expertise consisted almost exclusively of his family's trade - the creation of weapons and armor. He could make the preliminary equipment related to such things easily enough - hammers, anvils, studs, straps, buckles, that sort of thing - but he had little practical experience in the kinds of materials that Osvald was likely expecting of him. And that wasn't even touching on his complete and utter lack of knowledge on masonry and woodwork with regards to the reconstruction.
As such, the answer he truly wanted to provide was not the simple, resounding yes that the other smith likely expected of him. In fact, there was a bit of timid shuffling and fidgeting in a desperate attempt to shore up his courage before he gave any answer at all. And once he finally did speak up, it was of a far more verbose - and shaky - nature.
"A-ah, w-well," he started, already leading with a tenuous first step that was likely to raise brows. "I'm all fer halpin' out where I can, I can say that fer sure. Th-though, um... I might need some halp in return in order ta do that. Me smithin' knowledge is kinda... 'specialized,' y'know? Me family focused more on... weapons 'n armor than anythin' else... so I'm not too sure how good I'd be wit stuff unrelated ta that."
He could feel his cheeks burning in embarrassment just admitting that, considering the situation at hand. He couldn't say that he hadn't made any attempt at creating more mundane objects - the spade he sloppily re-purposed out of a dagger for Ms. Jancis was one example of such an attempt, and the kitchen knife that he had made for the Still Shore's kitchen another. However, both were tools that he had managed to adapt some of his own training toward, and were of questionable quality at best. He could only hope that there were similar links between what he knew and what was needed, and that they would be good enough to repay their kindness.
"U-um." He paused again here, almost afraid to speak further since this was delving in to the far more sensitive topic of the two. "A-as fer th' supervision, I-I 'spose that's akay. Jus'... um... I'd like it if'n not too many questions were asked 'bout what I'll be doin'. N-not that I'm makin' anythin' bad or anythin' like that... it's jus'... it involves family trade secrets, y'know?"
His gloved hand had made its way to that unkempt mass of jade-hued fluff that he called hair at some point, scratching nervously at it. He had somehow managed to lay it all out on the table, in a matter of speaking, though nervous stuttering and pauses and a colorful retinue of fidgets and other timid gestures. All that was left was to see if such things were agreeable to the Highlander and his master... or if they would turn him down.
First and foremost was the supervision: he understood the reasoning, but there was a cultural aspect to the whole thing that had stayed his hand initially when it was brought up and did so again now. In Doma, and especially for generational smith families like his own, certain smithing techniques were considered family secrets. They were not to be known by those not of the family's bloodline or joined to it through recognized marriage. He was already committing a bit of a cultural faux pas already by delving into the ancient weapon V'aleera discovered, seeking to decipher a lost technique of this kind while not being of its maker's bloodline. To go beyond that and wantonly spill such secrets to someone - even someone who may or may not be related to a close friend of his - who did not understand the weight of the situation worried him immensely.
Comparatively, the second point was the simpler of the two and hopefully easier to rectify. He was more than willing to aid in their efforts, to provide what skill and energy he could on the matter of rebuilding. However, his training and expertise consisted almost exclusively of his family's trade - the creation of weapons and armor. He could make the preliminary equipment related to such things easily enough - hammers, anvils, studs, straps, buckles, that sort of thing - but he had little practical experience in the kinds of materials that Osvald was likely expecting of him. And that wasn't even touching on his complete and utter lack of knowledge on masonry and woodwork with regards to the reconstruction.
As such, the answer he truly wanted to provide was not the simple, resounding yes that the other smith likely expected of him. In fact, there was a bit of timid shuffling and fidgeting in a desperate attempt to shore up his courage before he gave any answer at all. And once he finally did speak up, it was of a far more verbose - and shaky - nature.
"A-ah, w-well," he started, already leading with a tenuous first step that was likely to raise brows. "I'm all fer halpin' out where I can, I can say that fer sure. Th-though, um... I might need some halp in return in order ta do that. Me smithin' knowledge is kinda... 'specialized,' y'know? Me family focused more on... weapons 'n armor than anythin' else... so I'm not too sure how good I'd be wit stuff unrelated ta that."
He could feel his cheeks burning in embarrassment just admitting that, considering the situation at hand. He couldn't say that he hadn't made any attempt at creating more mundane objects - the spade he sloppily re-purposed out of a dagger for Ms. Jancis was one example of such an attempt, and the kitchen knife that he had made for the Still Shore's kitchen another. However, both were tools that he had managed to adapt some of his own training toward, and were of questionable quality at best. He could only hope that there were similar links between what he knew and what was needed, and that they would be good enough to repay their kindness.
"U-um." He paused again here, almost afraid to speak further since this was delving in to the far more sensitive topic of the two. "A-as fer th' supervision, I-I 'spose that's akay. Jus'... um... I'd like it if'n not too many questions were asked 'bout what I'll be doin'. N-not that I'm makin' anythin' bad or anythin' like that... it's jus'... it involves family trade secrets, y'know?"
His gloved hand had made its way to that unkempt mass of jade-hued fluff that he called hair at some point, scratching nervously at it. He had somehow managed to lay it all out on the table, in a matter of speaking, though nervous stuttering and pauses and a colorful retinue of fidgets and other timid gestures. All that was left was to see if such things were agreeable to the Highlander and his master... or if they would turn him down.
~