He could indeed and he took a moment as she pointed them out to take them and give them a proper once over. He was, after all, an artisan who made all manner of wonders and filled all sorts of needs. Innovation was his stock and trade, but he would always have a special reverence for a clever weapon. That's why his eyes were as obsidian and the flames of Etna as he used his true senses before the strangeness faded away and he smiled over at her. One finger slid in a distinct shape across the handle and a mark burned there in bright red before fading away invisibly. He handed it back.

...it was his little girl. And the work was certainly worthy of his blessing.