She lets herself laugh, just faintly, lips tugging up into a smile.
"It's a traditional gesture, from master, to student. I do not believe your traditions quite have a parallel and the translation system doesn't quite like what I wish to say but..."
She thumbs along the perfectly pristine surface - ignoring the motes of dust hanging as ever in the air as she thinks of a way to describe it neatly.
"It is many things. It is a... maker's mark, an assurance of the quality of the craftsmanship of the one wearing it, a seal proving the providence of the goods and skills. It is a mark of a lineage, traditionally, the way of indicating the path of creation and the endorsement of the guilds within the city of night. But it is mmmm not that, not really. It is a mark of protection, more generally - an insurance policy that their effort will not be needlessly wasted on someone killed by some thig, when they will see the wrath that will befall them. It is a servant's crest - marking who they owe for their life, their mind, their soul. It is a masterwork, a taunt, a little trick, that those who wish to inspire or quash ambition alike play, to show off the quality of their workings and leave them wanting more, when so often such things are designed to improve ever onwards."
She tosses it up, letting it soar perfectly straight through the air, unbound by the constraints of heaven, perhaps - before landing back in her hand still perfectly posed.
"Here. It is my promise, to you, that you will be trained, and taken care of. That you are a thing under my domain, my concern, a flame that I stoked, and that it will stay that way, for as long as you wish to bear it. The metal is... I would call 'Moon-aspected Mirroring Mythril'. It can reflect some enchantments and workings of the will, alongside some deeper truths. It is 'enchanted' for additional durability alone, for now, aside the properties of mythril itself, that is all."
"Please. Take this with my blessing."