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

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

[ 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? ]

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[ It says something when internally his immediate answer is that he would want to see them once more. And not just the picked ones that will wither and die upon the stone in the tomb, but the ones that are still attached to the earth, whose scent calls back not memories but feelings, those of contentedness and peace. But it's not so simple.

The snow resumes within his the expanse. ]

I... cannot leave this place. [ There's no regret in his voice, no bitterness. But it does carry a hint of defeat, as if it had been her blade at his throat just moments ago instead. ] It is my duty to remain here.

[ GOD why you gotta be so difficult about prancing around in flowers huh

For real though, her eyebrows disappear under her bangs briefly at that. An involuntary tomb guardian? Stranger and stranger yet... ]

Why?

[ For the moment, the duel, the sword, all of it is forgotten. She's far too curious about Jin's misfortune ~~and whether or not she's able to render aid but shh~~ ]

[ Because MUH MASTER

His lips part as if he is about to speak, but then stops himself. Why would he answer her? Or tell her anything for that matter? Maybe it's because he's been here for so long. Maybe he's the one who has had enough. Or maybe because there is something familiar about her-- not everything, but just that one quality of hers that seems to stand out to him, how honorable she appears.

...He's done her a disservice to call her a thief. ]

This is my former master's tomb. I was buried with them... for a reason. This, I believe.

[ SUCK IT UP, PRINCESS.

The sorrow in his voice strikes a chord with Saber. She's no stranger to loss herself, but to imagine being alone for so long in the dark with nothing but memories, watching your loved ones wither away until not even bones remain... that's so terribly sad.

Her brow furrows a little, choosing her next words with the utmost care. ]

I would think... they didn't intend this fate for you. [ She speaks slowly, getting her thoughts in order. ] They placed you in pride of place, in plain sight of anyone that might come in. It would be common sense to hide the most valuable treasure somewhere deep beneath stone and iron.

Perhaps your master wanted to leave you the option to choose who your next lord would be. [ Saber's lips quirk a little in a ghost of a smile. ] That's kind of them.

[ From the look on his face, it's clear he hadn't thought about it in that way, even if he's had a long time to think of just about anything in this gods-forsaken crypt. But never would he have deigned to even think of the possibility that his previous master would want him to choose his next. Not that he would have much of a choice between all the trespassers who had come before, but if could have a choice...

Slowly the white realm around them fades, she is now back within the decrepit ruins once more. The sword is back in its place, and as for Jin...

His form is there standing next to it, image transparent and wavering with the slightest breath. ] And I suppose you mean to suggest yourself as my new master.

[ That is why she came here after all, isn't it? To claim him. ]

[ The transition back into the tomb comes with an entirely unexpected wave of warmth as the icy landscape fades. She clenches a fist briefly, watching the stiffness in her fingers loosen as the air ceases to leech away her body heat. ]

No. I do not.

[ That might come as a surprise. But before he can respond, she follows up with this instead: ]

My place is not to lord above others. I came in search of a partner. [ With that, she extends one hand palm-up towards him in offering, as if it's not probable that he'd just phase right through it. The gesture is more the point anyway. ] Nothing is stopping you from returning, if you find my company lacking.

[ His eyes travel to the outstretched hand. As much as the gesture is nice to think about, he can't simply be a "partner" to her if she is to truly use him. Oh, sure, perhaps in title she can call him that, but that's not how it really works. If she does not perform the rite, she will not be able to use him at all, and once she does, he will truly be under her control.

She could change her mind once she has him.

She could stop him from leaving if she truly wished it, she could use him for any number of atrocities. He could drink the blood of thousands under her hand, and he only knows this because it has happened before. There are horrid memories that bubble up from the depths of his subconscious from even before his previous master's time. It is memories like those where he truly believes there is a purpose to his kind forgetting everything-- or mostly everything-- once their previous master dies: because oblivion would be a blessing before being used for the next massacre.

Yet if he doesn't let her use him at all, then he will truly be stuck in this tomb for who knows how many years more. His choice is not, then, to become her sword or partner or whatever she wants to call it. It is a choice to trust her words that she will honor them in the end and release him if he wishes it. To trust her.

Jin will reach for her hand, and she'll find that his fingers are only scarcely palpable and entirely frigid. A moment passes as he examines her palm without changing his stance, her calluses not missed by him. Her hands are so small, yet there is a strength in them; he has seen it already when they had fought.

Wordlessly he drops to one knee, still holding her hand up between them, and only then does he speak. ] Place your hand.... upon my forehead.

[ Where his core crystal sits. It is of a pure blue sapphire, but the way it glows gives away that it is no ordinary gem. He will guide her hand partway there before releasing it, silent. ]

[ To be fair, she doesn't know there's anything required beyond 'yeah ok I guess I'm done moping in a dusty closet' and just walking out, but nothing worth having is ever easy to get.

She allows him to take her hand without resistance, following direction to turn her palm upright as he sinks to his knees - a motion that does make her slightly uncomfortable considering the connotations behind it. When she said she intended to make him an equal, she meant it.

But he's running the show right now, so she keeps the thought to herself. ]

Very well.

[ Her hand hovers in midair, taking the moment to inspect the crystal she'd only gotten a glimpse of earlier. Gently, ever so gently, her palm comes to rest over it, the surface of the gem cool and smooth to the touch.

She'd imagined many different scenarios in the hows and whys of obtaining the sword, but nothing like this. To think the blade was sapient after all this time... ]

Wait.

You never told me your name.

[ The Paragon of Torna, is what he had been called before, a legendary sword that had been passed down through the dynasty. But before that he's sure he had another title, and before that there was another.

But his name has remained the same. Who first gave it to him and where, he cannot say. But each time he reawakens after a master has died, it alone is the one thing he remembers clearly each time, a constant in a sea of murky memories. ] Jin... It's Jin.

[ And it is done, the moment he allowed her to press finger upon the core crystal, imprinting upon him.

The glow emitted from the crystal begins to envelope his ethereal form, blotting out all of his features until he is but a silhouette of light, vaguely male and faceless. The figure then condenses into a single sphere of light before it pulses, glows, and then once more begins to take shape. Stretching out, the light then takes the proper shape of a blade, his blade, with his handle resting in the palm of her outstretched hand. The light condenses quickly, seemingly gathering energy from around them as if ripping it from the world itself, causing a great gust to stir as he takes form for the first time in ages.

When it's over she's holding him. The blade, with the unmistakable blue core crystal set upon it, winking in the dim chamber. As for the sword she had tried to pick up before, it dissolves into dust as if it had been waiting to collapse at any moment.

congratz u got an emo sword. happy now?? ]

[ Jin.

He's already gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind an afterimage of his silhouette fading from vision and the comforting weight of a sword in her hand. Her fingers automatically curl around the grip even as Saber's gaze drops to properly take in just what she's gotten herself into, lowering her free arm from where she'd been shielding her face against the unexpectedly fierce gale of wind.

His blade is a bit longer than what she's used to wielding, but light and nimble for its size. Well balanced. It's a promising start, considering she won't really know for certain until she's run through a few practice forms or sparred a little.

After a brief internal debate, she rearranges the belts on her old sword's scabbard to ensure she won't dull the tip by having it dragging on the ground behind her. ]

It's been years since I had a travelling companion. [ A casual remark as she adjusts the placement of one of the scabbard rings higher against her hip. He may not be able to hear her, but that won't stop her from still talking to him as if he's still standing there. ]

Forgive me if habit makes conversation stilted for a time.

[ Again the great stone doors grind open, giving way to the soft radiance of moonlight as she steps past, and strides through the echoing halls from the main tomb. Time must have passed while they were locked in combat - the moon has risen, the stars in full display. Making camp for the night is no doubt the wisest course of action for the time being. ]

[ Even had he walked out of the tomb with some sort of physical form to feel the fresh air and cool night wind upon his face, it wouldn't have made a difference in impact for his first time out in so long. He can still see everything around them as she walks alone and out past the stone doors, shutting heavily behind her as she leaves. But his focus is trained forward, past the remnants of pillars that had once marked the tomb for pilgrimages when it had first been built, past the top of the forest canopy, and finally gazing once more upon the stars. There, he finds some sense of familiarity, some comfort.

The environment has changed beyond the tomb's doors, but the sky has not changed.

He won't speak in return, at least not until she settles to make camp. It's only then that she will hear a voice prodding within her head. Best to let her know some things first. Out of courtesy.

Like how he can hear her. And communicate with her. So long as he is within a certain physical distance with her. ]

...What year is it?

[ The deftness in which she gets everything ready says much for her experience. Clearly this is a routine she's quite used to repeating daily - settling for a small, sheltered alcove in the lee of a hill, forgoing a fire entirely for a modest dinner of dried meat and a heel of dense rye bread.

Suffice it to say a life of luxury is not in the immediate cards for either herself or Jin. Tomorrow, she might consider setting snares to see if a rabbit or two might enrich her diet.

Speaking of diet.
Does he eat? A silly question now, but with the blade resting across her knees while she sits propped upright against a log, the thought only just occurs to her. One would imagine fasting for so long would mean a ravenous appetite to make up for it--

What year is it?

She startles a little, jerking immediately to attention before the familiar voice registers. ]

It is the thirty-first year of our lord Uther's reign. I'm not certain if that means anything to you.

[ Her knowledge of history is admittedly a bit spotty. She's no scholar-monk, after all. ]

[ Yeah that.... means absolutely nothing to him. There's a grunt as a response. ] Uther... is your lord. [ Nope, doesn't know who that guy is. But he would like to know who his blade will ultimately serve, if she is bound to someone else as well. ]

You mentioned that you did not come into the tomb for yourself. Was it for him?

No. Uther is the King of Britannia, but I am not a member of his court. Merely a subject.

[ Saber stirs only to raise her hood against the wind, shifting a little so the bulk of her log backrest blocks out further drafts. ]

You could say I am in service only to the people of the land and no other.

Edited (typo) 2018-11-11 06:19 (UTC)

[ That's... interesting to hear from just a subject to her king, and he wonders if she has any respect for the man. ] Hn.

[ He doesn't feel the cold in this form, and even if he did he wouldn't be bothered by it. Ice has always been something of his element, or so he likes to think, but that doesn't mean he can't also sense her discomfort from the cool night. ]

You also said we much to do.

What are you planning?

[ He feels he has something of a right to know, since he's going to be, well. Working with her. ]

[ So many questions. There may be a sparkling conversationalist hidden under that thickly aloof armour of his after all. ]

There is a town not far from here I intend to travel to.

[ She reaches back into the dark and snaps a try twig from the log, clearing a small circle of soil by her knee with a sweep of her glove. From there she roughly sketches out a little square to symbolize the tomb they've just left. ]

Hedge knights are harrying travellers along the path here - [ A circle gets drawn a short distance from the tomb followed by a second, larger square after that. ] - and here. The village is too small and poor to afford a standing guard.

We will drive them out.

[ She better get used to it because oh boy he actually is good at talking to people. And sometimes kids. When he's not broody, of course.

It is interesting to note how he "watches" her draw the map in the dirt. His direct vision in this form stems from the core crystal upon the blade, but given that he is resting upon her legs all he sees through that is her torso and head, the trees above, and the winks of stars beyond. Given that his sword has no literal eyes, the rest of his vision-- so-to-speak-- functions more like a clear bubble of awareness all around her, with image becoming hazy the further something is.

But when she lays out her plan, all he can ask is: ] ...Is that all?

[ Not that there is something wrong with her plan, but. Is that all he's going to be used for? ] There are no... wars you wish to fight with me in? No emperors to assassinate? [ He is a legendary blade. He hadn't been expecting to be used to defend some no-name village. ]

[ It's definitely a weird feeling being the one carrying conversation! Usually Saber is the type of person to enjoy peace and quiet even in company, so the roles just might switch in time.

She can't help but chuckle a little at the question while patiently shredding the rock-hard rye bread into smaller, more manageable pieces. Who knew Jin had a flair for the dramatic?
Assassinating an emperor indeed. ]

For what purpose? Is saving a village from starvation any less worthy than fighting in a war that serves no-one? [ Saber cares very little for the machinations of Kings and Emperors. While the nobility sups, the people suffer. She can't abide by that. ]

If you thirst for glory so badly, spring is the season for tournaments. There may be one or two worth entering.

[ He's just sayin'! She could do a lot more with him than that. But then again, he's been passed down lines of royals for who knows how long, so maybe some of their attitude has rubbed off on him. It would explain his huffiness... and disapproval of the stale food she's eating.

That is no dinner fit for the one who wields him! ] The prize winnings of a tournament could at least afford you a better meal.

[ As soon as he's able to manifest a physical form, dis boi gon cook for her. ]

I'm sure it could.

[ She's used to living a humble life, my guy. Fancy food is expensive, and spoils quickly! Quit bein such a snob smh.
~~pls do cook for her she can't cook anything worth a heck~~ ]

Preparation is necessary for tournaments, however. Even sparse platemail is better than none.

[ And she pops that gross stale peasant bread right in her mouth despite the fact it probably has the taste and texture of sawdust. The dried meat is probably no better. ]

[ ~~look how beautifully this works out b/c it is canon that he is an excellent cook~~

He is cringing as she watches her eat that... terrible bread. Why, master, whyyyyy ]

And you'll find that armor in, what, this lone village you intend to save?

[ He almost says that she won't need any platemail with him around.... but even he knows that's foolish. ]

[ ~~good luck she eats like a starving bear~~
Another lump of atrocious bread goes down the hatch much like the first. It's clear she doesn't really consider the meal as something to enjoy so much as just getting it over with.
One eyebrow quirks, and she glances down at the blade sitting in her lap. ]

We will attend the tourney melee. A bout winner has the right to spoils of combat, after all. [ She can't face highborn knights without proving her birthright in some way, after all, so it's just good sense to pick and choose from the petty lords and squires. It's pretty sound strategy in her books. ]

If we are fortunate, the winnings will be enough for properly fitted pieces.

[ Just silence as he listens to her as she explains. It's clear that he doesn't know much about how tournaments are made, whether it being from a wiped memory or from it having been so long since he's ever participated in one himself. Whatever the case, he doesn't disapprove of her plan. ]

If you... enter the tournament wielding me. Will others recognize me?

[ Or has it really been that long enough for the form of his blade to be forgotten by the common man? ]

I...don't know.

[ There's a thought. Having such a fine blade and no other trappings to denote wealth might draw attention. Not necessarily the good kind, either. ]

Stories are told about heroes and swords, and even some about the tomb. I don't recall anything specific about one like you. [ But then again... ] I am no scholar - if anyone would recognize you, it would be someone of higher learning.

[ It would be a benefit to them if he were unrecognizable. ]

From what I remember... [ He begins slowly, and his voice within her mind might sound a bit strained, as if it is a struggle to recall anything of his previous lives. It always leaves him with a bit of a headache if he thinks too much about it, as if his past itself is fighting back against him actively trying to sift though sealed archives. ]

It is my core crystal that gives away what I am. [ The legendary blades-- for there are more than just him in the world-- are all recognizable by the shine of their crystals. ] So long as no one recognize the style of this sword, you might be able to get away with just covering up my crystal.

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

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