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ooc: You got it. 
Daemon was glad she chose a design as well, and set about gathering up the belt she'd chosen, the dye, and then bustling about to find the paint colors he'd need, deciding to go with a different design on hers--not yellow and green leaves, but reddish-purple-black, like a poisonous plant. He found his paint supply in small tins and opened the lids on the ones he'd need, sniffing delicately before setting them on the table in front of her--one last check, to make sure his idea was alright and he had her seal of approval. Among this, he also set out the stamp with his signature on it, a gift from Fion when he saw that Daemon had to sign each piece in order to make sure it was original. It was about the only thing Daemon could sign, although his handwriting had gotten progressively worse over the months, and soon no one could understand what he'd said.
Fion had had this made out of his first signature on one of his masks, the clearest of them, and he used it to this day; while he could no longer write--or speak--as he once could, it was still possible to get his work done, down to the last letter. He was determined to make it so, and so it was; nothing could stop him from crafting. He set out his tools, and then glanced at her for a brief moment before offering a big, supposed-to-be reassuring grin, and sweeping them all off, into an old bucket he'd found in a corner of the room. He lifted it and waved over his shoulder as he headed up the staircase to the left, into the tower and up to his workroom.
There he began the process of dying, deciding almost immediately he'd have to paint another layer of brown over it, as well, to seal the dye in. And then a layer of black for the leaves and animals that he might carve in, just for the fun of it...possibly just leaves, though; he didn't want it to be so complicated the loops didn't work. Perhaps if he made them a long, twisting branch around the front of the belt...yes, that might work. And so it was that Daemon became lost in his work, using and rejecting certain tools at a glance. He was in his own world; nothing could stop him now.