And that go for anybody, you'll be thoroughly sorry

[jinshin]

[ A tomb is a place where the dead rest in peace, not to be disturbed. And certainly that is what this tomb had been for quite some time, still and quite like the peaks to the north, the dust upon the marble stones like fresh powered snow. It had remained untouched like that too for even more time to follow, where in the darkness of the vaulted chamber night and day were as one, and not even the shadows of twilight could interrupt the sealed void that it was.

Then they started coming. First the raiders, who would pillage the tomb and its many caskets for the coin and rings of nobles and priestesses of yore. Then the adventurers and scholars, seeking scrolls and stone to study, bringing back a greater treasure than gold to the surface, that of legends and power. And then eventually the seekers, who came acting upon said legends and power, legends of power, of a sacred, ancient sword still said to be buried within the tomb for centuries.

And that sword? That sword was Jin, the paragon of Torna, a regalia of an ancient kingdom that sank with all of its culture, language, and history to the ages. All that remained was this tomb... and him.

He can't even remember the name of his previous master, for each time a handler of his kind dies, their memories are wiped clean. He assumes that his previous master had been the ruler of Torna, for otherwise his scabbard would not have the great nation's imperial sigil etched across it. He also assumes that they were quite well loved, to be buried with such a lavish structure that undoubtedly had been built to last many, many years.

How lucky for him, then, to be buried and kept within a tomb for years and years without end, guarding the tomb of someone he assumed to have known at one point but no longer does. Such is the life of his kind of spirit, to be re-awakened time and time again. It would have grown old, he thinks, to have had an existence like that. Perhaps that is what his master from before had thought as well, or perhaps that is what he had requested of them in the first place: so as to not repeat the cycle, to be finally buried and sealed away forever, never to be picked up again.

It's a real shame, then, that upon his previous master's death, his memories had been wiped clean of any such notions regardless.

Of course that doesn't mean he is about to head out of the tomb if just anyone picks his blade from the pedestal. After all these years alone and having the time to contemplate his existence, he's come to the troubling conclusion that his previous master had some sort of impact on him. "Troubling" because, well, he has no idea what that impact had been, and only retains eerie remnants of it. For why else would he feel this strange hollowness whenever he would walk too far away from the main burial chamber? Why else would he feel such frustration and regret when gazing upon the casket, its emblems and murals now too faded to read, to know their story? And out of all the adventurers, scholars, and helpless rouges who had tried to lay claim to his blade, there is a voice that snaps that they are not enough, that they can never compare, that they will never bring him the awe and joy he had once felt with--

He could be grieving, he realizes at one point.

Grieving over a person he no longer knows nor ought to care about. He could somehow have retained some feelings of his previous existence-- but that cannot be. Whoever they are-- were-- they are dead, and have been dead for quite some time. And just like them, he will have to remain here alone, with only the occasional hapless person wandering into the tomb hoping for glory by the power of a sword, a single sword that could raze entire armies in one swing.

Light pierces through the darkness as the lair's main doors open once more, sifting dust and dirt along with it. Shadows scatter in the brilliance of the light from above like wretched vermin, but here's nothing in the tomb of worth that refracts that light; the grave robbers have made sure to that ages ago. The only thing of value that remains is the sword that still stands sheathed within a stone pedestal, its blade untouched by the years. Jin, in his spirit form, remains dormant within the blade for now. But he is looking.

Just who has disturbed his tomb now? ]

Comments

oops i lied and got excited ENJOY

[iuramentum]

[ To tread upon the stone floor of a tomb after so long spent among the grasses and beasts of the field... the oppressive atmosphere indoors is practically identical to the weight of a yoke and chain. Death lingers here. Infringe not on this final rest.
Yes, it certainly is eerily silent. Save for the faintest tapping of footsteps - slow and measured in the fashion of someone acutely aware of the sanctity of a tomb - not even mice stir in the deepest shadows. Clearly this place has been here for a long time.

The figure that does appear in the thin sliver of light offered by the last dying rays of the sun is perhaps not the norm of what might be expected from your typical graverobber. Small in stature, lacking the rope, chisel, or other tools of the trade... although the subtle chime of metal on metal suggests the presence of either armour or armament. No helm, no shield, no plate armour. A squire or page foolishly come to fulfill naive dreams, perhaps?

The light lasts only for a few fleeting moments prior to the doors creaking shut again with an echoing boom of stone and darkness sliding back into place.

For a while, the silence again settles over the tomb like a blanket while the intruder pauses to let their eyes adjust; only the faintest crack of light escaping from the seams around the doors offering much to go by as they creep forwards a cautious pace or two. Then three. Then four, lengthening in stride as they approach the dais thickly layered in dust, ignoring all else but the blade gleaming faintly in the dark.

A gloved hand reaches out as if to touch the blade, stopping only a hair away from curling her fingers around the grip to move down and press her palm flat against the crossguard instead. All the days and nights on the road, all the hardship, it's all come to this.

Saber ("Arturia", once, but that name and life is long dead now) lets her arm fall back to her side, only now letting her hood fall back to take in her immediate surroundings. Whoever this place was built for, they clearly must have been important or wealthy. Neither of which she herself is intimately acquainted with, of course, but she can recognize the trappings of a successful life as well as anyone else can.

A noble? A businessman?
A king or celebrated knight?

It's too difficult to guess without at least a name or plaque to go by.
When she steps forward again, it's to walk past the sword entirely. Instead she approaches the raised marble stairs and halts at the foot of the first step, gazing silently at the stone casket and the figure carved into stone lying in eternal rest for a moment or two.
There's a rustle of cloth and the creak of well-worn leather as she drops to one knee, retrieving a small sprig of greenery to place on the step itself: bluebells, small and modest in this place of lavish ornamentation, but unmistakable as a token of respect to the deceased.

It wouldn't do to enter someone's dwelling without some sort of gift, after all. And she'd never before heard of spirits being enraged by an offering of flowers.

The wild blooms look small and sad on the stone when she finally rises again to turn and give the sword a determined, unblinking stare. Many had tried to draw it, as the stories were told, but none of the men in the stories ever returned... only the accomplices outside, and each of their stories were identical. Terror. Terror.

Fear itself coiled itself around this place like a viper - not even the most boastful of knights dared to stray nearby.

But as she resolutely wraps both hands around the grip and studies the detail of the pommel in one last moment to steel herself, one thought and one thought only runs through her head, spoken into the leaden dark: ]

I will be different.

rolls around

[jinshin]

[ The blank white of his soulscape within the blade is brighter than a fresh canvas, but so much more emptier than the void of space. It's here that he's often spent his years within the tomb rather than wander about the confines of the carved quarry for the umpteenth time. Sometimes he can make out a wisp of grey as if something or someone has permeated the sheer whiteness of the expanse, the images they form dancing at the peripheries of his vision and memory. Sometimes he thinks he sees people, half-formed specters of his past before he turns and they vanish; other times he hears his name, or murmurs that make his heart tight or his stomach twist with the notion that the actual words should be recalled, but he cannot bring them to the forefront of his consciousness. But most of the time there is nothing within this void, as is there is nothing within the tomb.

It's different today, and he watches the intruder from the blankness of his soulscape within the blade, feeling the warmth of the waning sun upon his edge before the light cuts out once more, and he continues to watch as they walk about the chamber. It's easy to dismiss them; they're slight, small-- a child? or perhaps a young boy-- but he recognizes her as a woman the moment she pulls back her hood. There have been many that have come to this tomb bearing all sorts of crests or coat of arms, noblemen, a hired sword, or perhaps a serf with hope in their eyes, and it's easy to place her within the latter category.

Yet ultimately it doesn't matter what or who they are; they come here, they try to steal him away, and they all meet the same fate. It does not matter if she places those flowers upon the stone, it does not matter that she might have a family wherever she came from, a tethered horse to return to outside, or what dreams she may have outside of taking him from his resting spot.

I will be different, she says to the empty room.

Prove it, then, he thinks, although she will not hear them. The thoughts come up as a scoff unbidden within his mind, and it strikes him as strange to feel anything-- even the doubt and bemusement that begot the scoff in the first place-- after all these years, but he does not question it. Perhaps he is tired of this, this same old routine of fighting against intruders and grave robbers.

Nonetheless the blue gem upon the hilt of the sword begins to glow; it's an invitation to lay her hands upon its hilt. ]

get out here and fight her u broody loser

[iuramentum]

What --

[ It has been said the blade is cursed.
Is this what they meant? From the lack of guardians and traps so far, that's likely the only explanation why such a finely crafted blade is still left here out in the open.

Saber can't help but freeze once the gem begins to gleam - suspiciously staring at the weapon anchored deep within the dais much like someone unexpectedly confronted with a venomous snake. Her grip doesn't tighten around the leather binding the hilt, but it doesn't loosen either, merely lingering as is until she can confirm she's not about to catch a fireball to the face or suddenly get turned into a toad.

Blast it. Of course it's got to be magic.
Bandits, rival knights, wild beasts, all flesh and blood creatures she can handle. Unknown spells, however...
Well. Never hurts to be cautious.

After a second or two of tense silence, she gives herself a mental shake and takes the blade's grip firmly in hand. Courage, Saber. Nothing has menaced her yet. ]

Come then. [ Honestly, she's speaking more for her own sake considering the eerie atmosphere is becoming more oppressive by the moment. From the set of her shoulders and the resolute expression furrowing her brow, she's not about to be scared off by some hedge mage trick though, curse or no curse. ] We have much to accomplish in this world, you and I.

[ Firming her stance, Saber pulls upwards against the anchoring weight of the dais encasing the sword. Hard. ]

NO MAKE ME!!!

[jinshin]

[ This girl-- she really means to try to take him, doesn't she? He's surprised by the ferocity and charge behind her words, the determination behind them literally palpable to him. He can feel the strength in her grip, the way she tightens upon the hilt as if to force her claim upon the treasure of these ruins. He's struck with a bit of surprise; these sorts of commands do not belong to someone so slight, and certainly not someone dressed in the rags of a traveling peasant. They are not spoken as if from the mouth of a servant, but from someone of a different rank, something quite familiar to him...

Within an instant, there will no long be any ruins around her. No tomb, no mantle, no faded murals, and no remnants of the previous explorers that had been slain before. Instead all will be a stark white, a landscape so desolate that it makes the moon's surface appear lush, and no horizon to differentiate between sky and ground. This is where he takes him all because there is nothing here, nothing for them to destroy within the tomb, nothing for them to take away. There is only him, the form of his sword before him, and them. The challenger. The intruder. The-- ]

Thief.

[ He calls her, his gaze measuring and cold as it sweeps over her. ]

Who are you to steal from a tomb?

[ He's said this to the others, and he's saying it the same to her. But it is only now that it carries a tiredness hidden within its tone that she may be able to pick up on. His eyes are of a cold, steely blue, but their hollowness may give away something else. Once he had been the weapon to a great sovereign, but buried here he is purposeless, no more a rusted kitchen knife discarded than a legendary sword. ]

(ง'̀-'́)ง PREPARE TO GET BUTTWHOOPED

[iuramentum]

[ Ah.

The trap springs shut. Unsurprising.
Saber stills while taking in her new surroundings - the sheer, endless white of oblivion that stretches as far as the eye can see might briefly cross her mind as something alike to an afterlife. If this is what death is like, it's not so bad.

At least up until a voice shatters her contemplation, anyway, spurring her to spin on her heel to face him, a hand already going to the pommel of the longsword at her waist out of reflex.
Her gaze sharpens to the laserlike focus of a hunting hawk once she does realize she's no longer alone - green meeting blue in a clash of will that's practically palpable. ]

I?

[ A thief... well, as much as the insult bruises her pride, she can't really claim to be anything otherwise, now can she? Granted, she has no intention of using the legendary weapon for her own gain, but it's difficult to make a fair trade with the original owner long dead. ]

...I am no-one. It matters not.

[ A knight-errant at best, in truth. Saber is under no illusions about her lack of status, and she's certainly not fool enough to broadcast her presence here in unfamiliar territory. Not everyone strove to uphold the chivalric code of honour while masquerading as a knight. Suspicion among the smallfolk was common at best.
Still, she can't help but be a little curious about the stranger accusing her of such terrible things. One would think a zealous guardian would care little for names when he should be carrying out his duty to drive out intruders. ]

It is not for myself that I have come. Who are you to bar my way?

[jinshin]

[ He would be impressed by her boldness from her, if she were, perhaps, a good two or three feet taller. Or actually-- no, he wouldn't, because his irritation stems from something deeper. That she, or any intruder, would dare to take him, it doesn't matter if he wants to stay here or not. ]

"No One"....? That's fitting. [ He replies with a bit of a scoff, cocking his head to the side. As he does so, his heavy bangs fall somewhat to the side of his face, revealing the blue gem upon his forehead-- the same that is set upon the hilt of the sword. He gives no other explanation as to who he is, but perhaps that reveal is enough.

He outstretches his hand, and the sword flies into his palm with in an instant. His fingers wrap around the handle slowly as if purposefully giving her time to ready herself. The air within the white void suddenly grows colder as he speaks, and soon she'll find that she'll be able to see her own breath. ] --Because you will have an unmarked grave.

[ And then without another word, he will attack with terrifying speed. ]

[iuramentum]

[ Come closer and tell her that her stature is a weakness if you dare, Jin. One advantage she's quite happy to take is being underestimated; God knows Saber is more than used to it, and even quicker to ruthlessly exploit it in combat.

points at eyes points at u

She only has a brief second to get a glimpse of the gem hidden under his hair before her attention snaps back to the task at hand: drawing her own blade (battered, notched, and weathered from extensive use) with one fluid motion matched with the hiss of oiled steel, held up and ready at shoulder height in an en garde stance.

A distant part of her is slightly nettled by the fact he hasn't introduced himself, but then again she can't really expect knightly courtesy when she herself has declined to do the same. Something to rectify after the bout, perhaps, if they both survive.

He's fast, she thinks, while drawing her blade up in a diagonal position to deflect the first strike with a spray of sparks, the clash of metal on metal reverberating up her arms with enough force to verge on slightly painful. Saber's swiftness can't match his, but she takes advantage of her smaller size and lower centre of gravity in such a way that it should be clear she's not intimidated by a challenge.
Rather, she uses the momentum of the swords sliding off each other to pivot around and lash out herself with a low sweeping slash that might threaten to take him off at the knees if he doesn't react quickly.

Speakest thou shit, get thou hit my dude. ]

tourney time

[jinshin]

[ Sir Clayton is a lesser nobleman in the habit of spending his coin just as any nobleman would. Only, he is quite particular about what he purchases with the good people's money-- obviously it would be a insult to the serfs if he spent their taxes on anything but the best wine, finest silks, and most supple women. But Sit Clayton prides himself on not only being a connoisseur of the luxuries in life, but a collector of sorts. As a child he began with daggers and the intriguing but useless inventions of monks, as an adolescent he grew into building great cellars for his expansive trove of liquors, and as he is now he's become rather fond of legendary artifacts. This ring upon his little finger once belonged to the tragic princess of Mor Ardain! And this dagger was the very same one that had cut out the throat of the legendary Tantalese emperor!

When some peasant so casually strolls onto the arena below, he instantly recognizes the blade even without seeing its gem. His wine forgotten, he calls for his attendants to summon his champion to enter the tourney. So long as the peasant is beaten by his champion, he could simply take the legendary blade from them by tourney rules. Easy.

Except his champion now lies defeated in the dirt, and the baron's face is a blotched, hideous maroon from rage and wine. ]




[ The crowd's roar is deafening as it is elated. Not only did a no-name peasant become the champion of the tournament, he also defeated the champion of Baron Clayton, with the the swift and clean victory coming from a youth! Flowers are tossed from the stands onto the area as well as bit of copper coin.

She may be able to take what she picks of the armor from those she's defeated, but the real prize lies in the gold winnings. To collect it, they will have to walk towards the raised stage set for the nobles that have gathered to spectate this violent sport. As she makes her way over, he continues to keep vigilant. ]

You've either made a lot of friends... [ He speaks to her through her mind, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before falling upon the court. One nobleman appears extremely unhappy upon his velvet chair, as bloated and sweaty as a pig. Saber will be able to feel Jin's sudden disquiet, not unlike a trickle of static upon her back the closer she gets. ] ...Or plenty of new enemies.

[ By now hopefully he's told her that she can speak back to him within her mind, and not look like some lunatic blabbering on to herself. ]

[iuramentum]

[ Saber is no stranger to the push and pull of court intrigue.

Clayton is but one of many of his ilk: gaining rank through boasting and trickery, only to hit the glass ceiling when his superiors were not so easily fooled as his compatriots and underlings. Even is chosen champion disappoints - in the aftermath of the battle, she can't help but feel cheated even as she retrieves the defeated knight's vambraces from the pile of armour, leaving the rest for him to collect.

She had expected... more.
At least with the peasantry they had spirit to make up for lack of skill, particularly one young man with a quarterstaff and muscle that spoke of long, hard physical work in the fields. This champion had been all show and no skill whatsoever. A fat hunting dog expecting easy prey, perhaps.

On the upside, the vambraces are a fine prize. As she buckles the last strap in place she rotates her wrist to test the fit, acutely aware that where on its original owner it reached only mid-forarm, it covers nearly to her elbow on her. Small wonder she leaves the rest of the set considering the breastplate alone would be far too loose for any real protection.

As for the winnings... ]

Better the enemy you're aware of than those you don't see. [ She replies, pausing only to take one of the many blooms thrown into the ring and place it at a jaunty angle by her collar in her sword harness. ] But I will be cautious.

[ Then, it comes as no surprise that Sir Clayton's greedy little eyes are firmly fixed on Jin where he rests at her side, as if seeing through the false crossguard to the gem beneath. Saber's immediate response is to settle a hand on his pommel in an instinctively protective gesture.

As the lordling opens his mouth, however, she brusquely cuts off whatever pomp and circumstance that's about to be spoken. ]

The winnings, if you please.

[jinshin]

[ ....So blunt. Even Jin knows this, instantly looking towards the noblemen and expecting some sort of offense. A few of the ladies bring their fans up, shielding their mouths as they gasp, some other lords stiffen or grunt in displeasure at her demand.

Clayton gives the most obvious reaction, his beady eyes darting from he handle of the blade once she covers it to her face as if trying assign it to a name, a family, or a guild. But she is truly no-one, as much a ghost in a foreign land as he is, come to reap the gold.

"Boy, you would do well to speak only when spoken to. It is by our good graces that you may even part with this claim," Clayton replies, pulling at his collar. His smile is an alligator's. "Give us your name, first." ]

Don't. [ Is what Jin tells her, but ultimately it's her decision. He doesn't like the way this Clayton is looking at him-- or at her, like she's simply a bug ready to be squashed beneath his heel.

He doesn't deserve to know her name. ]

[iuramentum]

[ She's not here to cozy up to anyone, and certainly won't veil her distaste for the mismanagement of the land and people that dwell on it. It seems even her iron self control slips a little when faced with corruption.

Saber's expression remains impassive in the face of the ruling elite's displeasure. She doesn't respond at first, only briefly stroking a thumb along the sword grip under her palm to acknowledge Jin's misgivings.

Be still. All is well.

The silence stretches for a time beginning to verge on petulant before she does speak, resonant with some innate sense of command despite the fact she doesn't raise her voice. ]

My name is unknown to you. [ Dual meanings there; whether pointing out the Lord's appalling ignorance or lack of connections into higher echelons of society is somewhat unclear. Still, her eyes blaze behind the politely disinterested mask, full of the scorn that she cannot voice. ] The poor know me well. The starving sons that pull the plough greet me as an old friend.

You will not.

[ Her tone implies the cur insult far better than if she outright spoke it, but the meaning in this one is very clear. Even as the ripple of outrage spreads among the stands in front of her, she can hear the curious murmurs at her back from the peasantry.
Farmers, workers, and the common folk deserve to know who she is, but Clayton has yet to earn that right. He can threaten until he goes blue in the face and she will be unmoved. ]

[jinshin]

[ Awwww let 'im at 'im!! Punk-ass little shit--

There was one a time where Clayton could have kept his emotions in check, and that talent of his had partially gotten him to where he is today. But now he can hardly stifle the sputter at his lips when the boy replies, and he grabs at his goblet and gulps it down as if it could clear his throat.

"Then you will not receive this prize," he spits, and then his mouth twists into a hateful smile as wine drips down the tangled mess of his beard. "Unless... you trade your blade for it. For the Paragon of Torna, the Fang of Morythra... the White Demon of Caldea."



--And there it is. Their fear of being recognized, all laid out in the open. He's grateful that most of the crowd won't be able to hear them speak, but the nobles that recognize the legend stir, looking at Saber in shock. And what's more surprising to Jin is that whoever this man is, he... even knows more of Jin's past than Jin does himself! Morythra? Caldea? He remembers neither nation, and he wonders how far they have sunk below the sea of time.

The blade expresses how unsettled he's become by becoming cold to the touch, as if her hand is now upon ice rather than steel.

"In fact, I will give you three times the amount for your sword!" Clayton cries out, this time enough for all to hear. That causes more of a commotion among the crowd; to many it would be enough to give their children away for it. ]

[iuramentum]

[ Ah, the serpent shows its fangs at last.
The titles he spits like venom are new to her. Although Saber doesn't show any reaction, she can feel Jin's dismay, and the cold radiating through her gloves is nearly enough to leave frost on the metal buckles at her wrist. Despite the plummeting temperatures however she doesn't pull her fingers away from Jin's pommel.

For a moment it may seem she's weighing the odds of sword vs monetary gain from how her eyes drop to the prize bag, practically overflowing with gold coin, the susurrus at her back quieting only slightly when she looks back up. ]

No.

[ For such a simple one-syllable word, the sheer willpower behind it is like the death knell at a funeral; final, end of story, not up for debate. The force of it is enough to silence the crowd to point of hearing a pin drop. ]

You offer the sweat, blood, and suffering of your vassals in exchange for my pride and honour. I'll have nothing to do with it.

[ And just like that, she turns her back on Clayton entirely as if he's simply... ceased to exist. The copper coins thrown into the ring are worth more to her than all the ill-gotten treasures their lord owns. At the very least the copper will pay for a modest meal and some meager supplies to see them through to the next tourney - hopefully with better nobility in residence.

That was... disappointing. The thought is tinged with some dry humor as she walks back across the ring towards the exit. Perhaps the next will be better. ]

[iuramentum]

[ Days pass into weeks, bandages are replaced and finally discarded, medicine is taken (with much reluctance), and Saber's back on her feet in surprisingly short time. At least, short time in most physician's minds.
Saber, on the other hand, seems to be determined to make up for lost time by driving herself harder in sword drill and general physical conditioning.

Jin's presence is a gift in those first days - left to her own devices, she likely would have tried to return to the lifestyle she had before the ambush, content to scrape by on the bare minimum needed to perform her duty.

No longer.

The Earl of Kent's tourney is one of the largest of the land - travellers, knights, peasantry, and nobility all come to the holding with high hopes for winnings or carousing. Saber and Jin are no different. With the winnings from smaller, humbler events, she's commissioned herself a fine set of platemail and a much warmer set of garments in blue.

They've already had a few bouts on the field by this point. Saber's in fine form, having regained the strength in her sword arm and the sure-footedness she had prior to the poisoning, and even better spacial awareness with Jin's influence. Not even heavy plate of the higher nobility has really slowed her down any. ]

We are getting stronger. [ She notes, rolling her shoulders to limber them up as she settles into a ready stance, loosening up for the next round in a clear, grassy area outside the central hub of festivities. Wildflowers dot the hills with swathes of heather and honeysuckle.

All in all, she's greatly enjoying herself with both the view and the tournament. ]

What do you think of the location?

[ Another reason this tourney was chosen: the famed White Cliffs, gleaming like alabaster as far as the eye can see along the coastline. It's quite beautiful, as long as one doesn't pay too much attention to the fact that dropping thieves off the sheer cliffs into the raging tide below is the local preference for executions.

The sea and wildflowers. Just like she promised. ]

[jinshin]

[ She'll find that as they practice together, his abilities will augment hers. The attacks themselves will feel as if she is pulling them out from a reservoir of energy within the sword itself, linking it with her own, and unleashing it onto the world. Emotions-- anger, adrenaline, the rush from battle, the intent to kill, or even the determination to save and protect-- may make it seem as if it's easier to tap into this energy, displaying his power like a storm in winter. But over time, if not at this point already, she will have learned to bring the same power out on a cool whim.

The elemental ice attacks may come naturally to her, should she so choose to activate them in the same way she had done to take care of those remainder assassins a month or so ago. Depending on how much she taps into it, the effect can be as subtle as the blade cooling and leaving a trail of ice along its tip, to conjuring a torrent of energy that forms into ice, rushing out in whatever direction she swings the blade. Beyond that, however, is up to her own creativity. Will she create multiple blades of ice to pierce her targets from afar instead, will she summon a tower of ice from below, uprooting everything above in its trajectory? All these and more are within possibility.

And then there is another motion to the abilities he grants her: boons in strength, accuracy, awareness, and speed. His sword might feel lighter to her, her steps swifter; she may feel that each hit she takes less painful and drawing less blood, or that an opponent's weakest side is more easily picked, and that she now has the speed to capitalize on that weakness before an enemy can even raise their own blade. The first time he would have taught her of these, it would have required some focus on his part as well, since the protection is an extension of his power interacting with her own energy. Honing that focus so that it is ingrained automatically will take some practice, but mastering it would provide a blanket of protection whenever she would touch his blade, canceled out only if she would wish him to stop.The idea, he tells her, is that he is not only her sword but also her shield.

Sometimes he makes a literal shield for her too. The first time would have been between towns, caught in the cold rain in the countryside once more. A dome of light woven in a lattice of hexagons would have appeared above her head blocking. Should she have looked more closely, she would find that some of the rain would have been absorbed by the shield, some of it would would have run off its side, but none of it would fall on her. He would have kept her dry until she prepared a site to sleep.... ]



Agreed. [ He responds to her comment about strength, a note of praise within his tone. He's rather impressed with her own progress with using his abilities, and he wonders if it it's because she has some grander sort of purpose in mind.

We have much to accomplish in this world, you and I.

He is not sure if he would say that he is actively looking forward to whatever it is she wishes to accomplish. But he's found himself simply content to stick around for whatever journey this brings. As for the view...

This may not be the place within some distant memory housed within his soul, but it makes little difference. The sea is vast, grand, and endless, and the white cliffs are majestic, enduring, and proud. He is not standing in the field with her, but he feels the wind, smells the salt in the air, and hears the crash of the waves below regardless. And although could never actually know what it feels like to have the tall grass beneath his feet, feel the delicateness of the flowers around them in the palm of his hand, or cold spray water upon his skin, but as he is here with her-- as she is granting him this chance... he can almost imagine what it would be like. ]

...What is this place called?

[iuramentum]

[ She's been hesitant to use the full extent of his abilities in the ring. Firstly, since it's hardly fair to face someone with only bare steel and no magic, and secondly because wow would that be super conspicuous. So far she's only tapped into extra boosts to her natural aptitude when facing tougher opponents.
Which isn't to say Saber isn't extremely grateful for Jin's fortifying effects - blocking a flail or greatsword in the hands of a weaponmaster is a short path to broken bones at the very least. She's barely got a scratch.

That, perhaps, is the reason why more and more people are coming to watch the final brackets of the tournament matches. The other finalists are experienced, tempered warriors far older and larger than her. For all intents and purposes not a single squire should have survived so long.

And yet.

Saber runs through her exercise routine as if on autopilot, flowing from one form to the next, the length of Jin's blade catching the sunlight with each lightning-quick jab or swing translated from the slightest flick of her wrist. Smooth. Economical.

Ironically, the addition of proper armour plating along her torso, forearms, hands, legs, and feet allow her to be more aggressive in combat. Many of their former opponents hadn't lasted long after letting their guard down due to her smaller size. Then again, the ones that took her seriously hadn't fared much better either. ]

The White Cliffs of Dover. [ She sounds calm while moving through a series of twists and pivots that almost seem like dance steps, not combat technique. ] The county is under the jurisdiction of the Earl of Kent. A good and fair man, according to the locals.

[ Which hopefully meant there wouldn't be a repeat of the Baron Clayton situation... although if the Earl was as competent as they say, he'd likely have heard of what happened to the late Baron and the rumours surrounding his death.
Saber's nearly done with her warmup routine by the time she becomes aware that they're being watched, feigning ignorance but keeping a close eye on the figure lurking just behind the outer ring of tents.

One of the knights they've bested. She recognizes the mace hanging on his belt and the helm under his arm. ]

Ah. We have a visitor.

[jinshin]

[ He doesn't recognize the location or the name of it, but that doesn't make the view any less awe inspiring. What sort of minerals makes those cliffs white? Is the stone soft, did the waves carve them to be so sheer relatively recently compared to the surrounding land? Or was it a slow erosion of wind and tide happening over an untold millennia?

--These questions will remain unanswered, fading within his mind as she continues the exercises. He's reminded once again how different her own style of swordplay is different from his own. Not that it would matter; he's certain that any number of masters have used him in whatever style they saw fit. It's just simply something for him to note and wonder about the passage of culture and time. ]

He doesn't look too happy.

[ And he knows that he doesn't have to tell her to be on her guard. ]

[iuramentum]

We shall see.

[ The knight dawdles for a time at the edge of the tents before seemingly deciding to sate his curiosity. He approaches in a straight line, without guile and in a way that she's sure to see him coming, but with definite purpose in his stride - enough to have Saber wary, but not necessarily ready to engage the moment he gets within range.

Instead, she plants the sword upright in the grass and rests her hands on the pommel, waiting...

"Well fought. I'd thought you a squire." The man greets, shifting his helm from under one arm to the other, sticking out his right hand to shake. Saber, somewhat reluctantly, accepts the gesture with a hand of her own. For all appearances, it is not meant as a friendly introduction.

"Pardon the intrusion, but I had a question-"

Here it comes.

"Surely you've heard of the murder in the court to the west?" ]

I have. What of it?

[ POKER FACE: S-RANK.
The older knight's eyes narrow a little, a brittle, piercing blue that would undoubtedly be unnerving if he were talking to literally anyone else.
Intimidation techniques tend to flop when used on someone that can turn someone in field plate into hilarious bloody chunks with little to no warning. Jin might get some of Saber's amusement through their connection even as her expression remains stony.

"They say a man with a strange sword is the one that did it. One like yours."

The accusation hangs over them both for a time, expectantly, as if by giving it voice she'll be obligated to spill every misconduct she may or may not have had a hand in. Saber, of course, raises an eyebrow. ]

I see. You assume this is the lost blade of Torna. [ Flat tone, completely lacking inflection. ] You are mistaken.

[ Oh, he doesn't like that one bit. His expression goes from veiled threat to outright murderous, a hand gravitating towards the mace on his belt.

"You lie!"

Saber for her part doesn't budge from patiently watching the tantrum being thrown in front of her. For the sake of putting this whole issue to bed once and for all... ]

Follow.

[ And just like that, she pulls the blade from the soil and walks past the knight towards the tents, clearly expecting her order suggestion to be followed. Curiosity tends to outweigh anger, in her experience. Even the most infuriated knight would hesitate to attack someone with their back turned; to do so would be the blackest mark on their honour.

If it's a public spectacle people want, she'll give it to them. ]

[jinshin]

[ So it seems that his little murder spree has more than just the consequences of evoking Saber's displeasure. It speaks volumes that he's feeling any sort of regret about it at all at this point that his actions back then continue to follow her; their time together has changed him in that way already. He's rather surprised by it himself.

His surprise quiets into a cool tension when the stranger's hand nears his mace, and quite suddenly there is an impatience on his part to want to cut that hand off right then and there. He means to intimidate her, threaten her, and just as he feels her amusement at the knight's behavior, she will feel his rigid irrigation.

Jin doesn't say anything for the meantime as Saber leads the man towards the others. So she means to provide a show, is that it? Well, he's all on board for that, the irritation from before slowly converting into buzzing anticipation. Let 'im at 'im. ]

lol

[jinshin]

[ Jin does not so much as sleep as he retreats into the void of his soulscape, letting his conscious awareness of world diminish until it becomes but faint static that accompanies the stillness of the white void. It is here that he may withdraw into a state of meditation, either to reflect upon the world or think of nothing at all. This night he chooses to do the latter, as he cannot remember when he has last indulged in the vacation of not thinking, just as he cannot remember the last time he has ever felt in a place safe enough to do so.

One of the last thoughts he pulls from his mind before entering this state is that it is Saber who has let him feel at ease enough to allow him to finally, after years and years of simply existing, to rest.

And rest with her, alongside her, even.




He will not awaken to the foreign feeling of coarse, thin sheets draped over him and her, to the birdsong just beyond the window, or even to the close warmth of something soft and slender beside him. Instead in the cool hours of the morning, it is that warmth to which he's instinctively drawn. There is no difference in temperature in the white void of his soul, no fluctuation in energy; simply stillness, emptiness. But now there's a coolness that is unpleasant, a warmth that rectifies it, and a comfort that is near.

His arm drapes around that warmth, pulling it closer as if he could hold it to him, keep it with him, and protect it underneath his grasp. That is to say, his arm has draped over her waist, pressing his hand into her back to nuzzle her closer to him. ]

[iuramentum]

[ Saber's dreams are strange and disjointed, but nothing overtly threatening - the earthy scent of freshly turned loam, the soft brush of new grass against her legs, the lonely cry of a hunting fox in the dark secret places of deep forest...

And

warmth.

Unusual, for Saber, considering even her dreams reflect the spartan lifestyle she prides herself for. Still a little groggy while caught between not quite waking and not quite dreaming, her brows furrow a little as she curls into the source of the heat, tucking her face into Jin's chest until only the top of her head is visible over the blanket.

She should get up. Really. It's just that she's so very tired, and the bed so soft, and the blankets so warm. It's not often that she wakes without dew coating her travel clothes and her breath misting in the air. This is... nice. Peaceful.

Just a little longer. ]

[jinshin]

[ Wow this comforter or whatever he is resting on sure is warm.... surely it won’t mind if he keeps it close just like this. And how convenient that this warmth draws closer to him all on its own.

A brief moment passes where his eyes partially crack open and he sees the unfamiliar perspective of the room on its side, of the bed from being centered atop of, of a sheet pulled over him and the golden top of a head just infringing upon the lower portion of his vision. He doesn’t need to look to know that it is Saber that is against him, because it is her same touch and warmth he feels whenever she actually holds him as a sword, unmistakably steady and strong, only quieter.

And it’s... nice. Nice enough that it distracts him from the actual reality of him being.


He closes his eyes again, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath (breaths that actually utilize actual air), taking in her scent, relaxing into her warmth, holding her lightly, relaxed, curled up against him. He’s always known her to be a lithe, slight thing, but now she feels impossibly small against him. She might as well be a fae herself, her skin so soft despite its various scars— and indeed he feels those, too, as his hand wanders to the top of her gown at her back, fingertips brushing along her shoulder blades. If this is a dream, he won’t mind indulging it in a little longer...

He shifts only slightly as he begins to drift back into sleep once more, one of his lungs twining with hers at the ankles. ]

[iuramentum]

[ Saber is content to remain in her dozing state up until Jin makes the innocuous mistake of moving.

Fingers at the nape of her neck. Foreign heartbeats. Intruder.

Then, and only then, does she wake enough to realize a) she's no longer alone, b) someone is close enough that she can hear their breath, and c) she is unarmed, unarmoured, and entirely helpless. Foolish. She should have known better, to let her guard down and hope that she could remain undisturbed even for one day.
Her eyes snap open - wild with the animalistic fury of having her personal space infringed upon, so instinctive that her usual self-control has yet to restrain it at such an early hour in the morning.

If this stranger thinks she will be as meek and oblivious as any village maid, they are sorely mistaken.

The only hint that Saber is awake, and likely the only warning Jin has, is her suddenly going stock still and taut as a bowstring under his touch, every muscle of her being coiled in readiness to oust this unexpected intruder from her bed with extreme prejudice.

Which she does by planting both her palms against his chest and pushing, hard. If he isn't careful, he'll get thrown off the mattress entirely, and possibly bounce off the opposite wall considering how much of her strength she throws behind such a simple motion. ]

[jinshin]

[ What happens when the source of this strange but familiar, comforting warmth is of the same origin that is fiercely rejecting him?

An instinctive, ugly sense of betrayal. He's being ripped from the hazy support of the dream, like suddenly being taken from forge and slammed hard against the anvil, not at all ready to take the cruel hammer that will wipe his memories clean. But he doesn't want to leave, not yet, he doesn't want to forget, not yet, he doesn't want to be torn from what he's made of himself in these few weeks, he doesn't want to repeat finding another to whom he may bond, he won't allow it, he won't allow her to do this to him--

She may have strength, but his is wholly inhuman. When she unleashes just the initial force of her push against him, he's going to turn it completely on her instead.

One hand will shackle both of her slight wrists in them, swiftly slamming them above her head, and the other grips her side to forcefully shove her against the bed. He's over her now, pinning her, a knee intentionally between her legs, and he's looking down at her as if he has lost himself entirely. He does not see who is trapped beneath him, he does not see that it is her, and he certainly doesn't realize that to be able to be solid and pin anyone like this at all should be shocking if of itself. No, he's still quite trapped in a dream that has turned foul.

The balance of power between Blades and their masters is laughable; with but a thought he could be dismissed. He could be rendered inanimate. He could forget everything...

(When he realizes that this is all a misunderstanding, he's going to have to truly rethink what she means to him, for him to have this sort of reaction at just the thought of her dismissing him.) ]

[iuramentum]

[ Were it later in the day, and full sunlight streaming through the window, Saber may have been quicker to recognize the man looming over her. As it is now, however...

She sees only a shadow backlit by the first rays of the sun; a terror torn free from the fabric of the darkest nightmares, a beast with the grip of iron and eyes as savage and thunderous with fury as her own. Saber is no coward, greeting the shadow pinning her down with a dramatic increase in her struggles and a distinctly uncharacteristic snarl on her face, wounded more in pride than anything physical.

How dare he?

This intruder will reap the whirlwind he has sown a hundred times over when she can reach the sword by the bed. Saber reaches for Jin as she has many times before in combat, willing her partner's strength to bolster her limbs, intending to break free of her assailant's grasp with all the righteous indignation of a lion bursting out of a cage --

but

The connection doesn't come from where she left Jin's sword propped as usual by the headboard, but instead the figure overhead. Almost as if... ]

Jin?!

[ How did he... when did he...?

All the anger drops away as Saber puts two and two together, eyes darting to the fringe of his hair, and the gentle gleam of the gem set in his forehead hidden away under his bangs. All resistance instantly ceases the moment she recognizes him for who he is. ]