Rooster × The Engine-Smith
Polishes in silence, running every detail past a knife-sharp standard, once each.
The Engine-Smith polishes in silence, running each part past one exacting standard. The Rooster sets that standard to a knife edge. You work quiet, you pass every detail under a blade once, and the craft turns fine right up to the point of splitting hairs. So what you make has no flaw in the detail, the bar set so high most people could not see where it sits.
This is mastery, and it is real. The thing you build is clean to the last screw, and people who know the work can tell you held it to a height they would not have dared. The cost shows up at the finish line. You are picky and a perfectionist with both yourself and everyone near you, and you are still hunting flaws when the deadline is on top of you. The work could ship; you do not let it, because there is always one more edge to true. Perfect keeps eating done.
Betelgeuse burns red, the craftsman's fire over the forge. The Waxing Gibbous glows like furnace light, almost full and still building. The element is Flame, steady and hot. Some builds, call a halt when it is good enough and let it go out the door. The last ten percent of polish is for you, not the person waiting on it.
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A mirror, not a prophecy. It reflects you as you are right now. How you walk is still yours to choose.