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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[ She isn't offended at that, just dipping her chin slightly as if to concede the point. It won't change the fact she is genuinely grateful for his quick thinking, however, and allows her hand to rest on his for just a little longer before holding it up becomes too tiring to continue.

The strength of emotion warring in his expression and tone of voice doesn't escape her notice while she watches him tend to her wounds with a surety that speaks of long experience. Whatever it is he has bottled up inside, it must be the result of something so profound not even time itself has sufficed to smooth it over.
An incident from his past? Who knows.

Despite his reassurance that she can let herself give in to the drowsiness that's sunk deep into her bones after the ordeal, she only allows her eyes to close halfway. It doesn't feel right to leave him to stew in his rage. Rest will come soon enough. ]

Regardless, thank you all the same. [ Saber's going to dig her heels in on this despite the gently reprimanding tone it's delivered with. ] Do not dismiss your valour so easily.

[ Her eyes track his movement as her eyelids drop lower - a sliver of green the only hint that she's still awake and aware.

At least

Up until he goes and tears a huge honking hole in her leggings, anyway. Were she hale and hearty, Saber might've sat bolt upright in outrage (this is indecent, Jin!!!) but as it is really all she can do is flinch at the sound of ripping cloth and give him a reproachful look in lieu of a proper upbraiding.

Where's she gonna find new pants in her size now, huh? ]

[ He'll find her new pants!! Like hell is he going to allow her to go out without them. And as for catching that look himself, he only raises a brow in response. Got something to say about his methods punk

Jin begins with this injury as he did with the last, with taking a strip of cloth and dipping it into the basin of hot water to clean the wound, followed by applying pressure to it with his hands upon her thigh. Everything about her is so petite, it's hard to imagine that she had bested everyone in the tournament earlier...

The bleeding subsides more quickly than the one to the side, and they're quite lucky the tip of the arrow did not nick one of the deeper arteries or veins of the leg. She'll have to endure a nasty bruise and the aches of muscle tissue repairing, though.

And with any of the wounds she carries, there is always that troublesome risk that they can become infected. That.... he cannot do anything about.

It will the same for the wound on her arm and shoulder as well, and when he's eventually finished with those as well, applying fresh bandages to them, only then does he pull back from his work, inspecting the wound at her side one last time. ]

Still with me? [ If she's fallen asleep by now, he won't disturb her. ]

[ I mean, it's not like they were particularly high quality or very expensive, but still!!!!

Saber is quite small compared to many hardened warriors, but only a fool would fail to take her seriously. Smaller target, lower center of gravity, superior agility... all of which more than sufficient to put down a man twice her size in heavy plate on an even playing field. It's merely a matter of lacking the status or coin to acquire plate of her own.

For now.

She obligingly moves and shifts under his direction to allow Jin to reach the puncture wounds more easily - the tremors in her limbs weaker now as the antidote runs its course, but still tangible under his hands. It would seem this strain of poison is particularly virulent. ]

I am.

[ Saber's voice is steadier now, more like her old self while she opens her eyes from the semi-dozing state she was in for the tail end of his ministrations. Her brow furrows a little as she looks down at herself.
By God, she looks a fright. Far more like a wildling than knight. ]

Although... I wonder if I am still dreaming. How is it you have a tangible body, Jin?

[ The basin's once clear water has been tinged pink by the time he's done, and he sets it aside, wiping his hands upon some extra scraps of cloth. She'll be fine now, he tells himself. She'll be fine.

But will she? Those that attacked her were not the sort of brigands one would encounter on the road from one village to the next. They were organized, they had a directive. And whoever gave them that directive must have wanted the job done thoroughly to send five trained men, all their weapons, and poison along with them. As for who was truly responsible for the attack...

He can't help but think of the baron back in the area as Saber refused the gold offered for him. How he had looked as if the vitriol within were about to burst from his lips. His eyes had told Jin all he needed to know about the man's intentions.

Humans. When they are denied what they wish, they take it by force. Isn't that how they have always been?

Saber's question shakes him from his thoughts, and he looks over to her once more. ] I'm not sure. [ That's his honest answer. Something else tells him that given enough time he would be able to manifest it on his own anyway, but so soon, and tangible at that? That part he's uncertain about. His gaze drops to the cloth he holds, and he finds that he can't exactly wash all of her blood from his palms. ] Maybe it's a defense mechanism.

[ He motions to her with a hand, and then to himself. ] We are... tied together, after all.

[ There's no doubt - she'll be out of commission for some time yet. At least until she can stubbornly drag herself back out onto the trails winding through the countryside. Saber much prefers the solitude of wildlands rather than village life.

Tied together. Or perhaps "fettered" might be a better term. To say Saber is greatly shamed by being struck down so quickly is a massive understatement. Frankly, she doesn't particularly blame Jin if he's reconsidering who he's made his pact with.

She should have been better. ]

I see. Then... [ The luxury of a second pair of hands is likely to be temporary. Or so it's wiser to assume... she doesn't relish the thought of getting up as she is now, all wobbly like a newborn deer. It seems she'll be spending some time in convalescence whether she likes it or not.

~~And rest assured - she most certainly does not like it one bit.~~

The pause stretches for some time while she thinks on how to best rearrange their schedule of travel, and when she glances up again... ]

Pendragon.

[ It's said rather casually while she smooths down her sadly ruffled and torn tunic, inspecting the ragged edges where the arrows had punctured the cloth with a resigned look. It seems she'll need to spend some of her meager coinpurse on more travel clothing. ]

My name. It was Arturia Pendragon, since we were interrupted before. I owe you that much at least.

[ Which in all honesty probably doesn't mean much to him, being so new to the country, and Saber herself has no plans to expand on the unusual surname. A dead name for a dead life.
She breathes out slowly, closing her eyes fully as the day's weariness begins to take effect. ]

Give me a hour or two to rest, and we can leave.

[ Indeed, her true name means nothing to him in of itself. It is only her giving it to him that is significant. His kind are suppose to know of their master's name within moments of bonding, and that she had kept it veiled all this time only shows much much will she has. The veil may have lifted off of her name, but he wonders just what else she is keeping shrouded from their connection...

His kind have names. Single names, with their titles changing throughout the centuries depending on who uses them. Azami, the Nightmare. Dagas, the Fire-Kaiser. Brighid, the Jewel of the Empire. All Blades lost to history, and he remembers them only by the names, he suspects, because they are-- or had been-- common knowledge in his time. Or, perhaps, because he has clashed with them before across multiple lives, lending them into the stores of his subconscious memories.

But he's content with knowing hers. Not Saber, not a Blade-like name which he would only associate to those others of his kind that had been lost to time (with he himself almost among them, should he have stayed in that tomb). But an actual person, someone who will be remembered.

Should be remembered, with her valiance and sense of justice.... For a moment the light in his eyes changes at he looks at her, the steeliness fading into something warmer, like frost fading from a windowpane at dawn.

But when she say that, they narrow once more. ]

Unless humans have somehow grown stronger within the centuries I've been gone, I doubt that you'll be ready to leave in a couple hours.

We cannot stay.

[ Blunt as ever, this woman. ]

There will be more that try to take you by force. As I am now... [ A meaningful silence, here, while Saber remains in repose on the bed, hands neatly folded over her abdomen, eyes closed. ]

We are exposed here - too vulnerable to attack. Time is a luxury we do not have.

[ Ruthless pragmatism, really. Five were sent before, and when they don't return to their master, it wouldn't be surprising to have a larger retinue sent in pursuit. Moving to the domain of a noble in direct competition with Clayton could buy them time.

The problem, of course, is travelling such a distance in a short span of time without horses and without aggravating her wounds.

Her pain means little when it comes down to keeping Jin out of the wrong hands. He's her partner, after all. ]

Trust in me. I'll survive.

[ His expression hardens, and it's clear that he disagrees with her. But who is he to stop her? And how would he stop her, because who knows how long this form of his would last to allow him to do anything to keep her put?

But.

Give me a hour or two to rest.

An hour or two. He can use that time to grant her more time without the one responsible's men being an ever-present threat as she stays here. And maybe he'll threaten a physician to come take a look at her ]

...I won't be about to carry you, if you fall again. [ JUST SAYIN'. Because he feels this physical form isn't exactly a natural state for him to be in. ]

Then it's a relief I have no intention to fall again.

[ Saber's voice is tinged with humor while she cracks one eye open just enough to give him an amused sidelong glance. Who knew he could be such a mother hen?

But under the bone-deep weariness is a certain spark of admiration - Jin might make a habit of brushing off compliments, but he's as brave and stalwart a companion as any. Some part of her regrets that having a tangible person to chat with is only temporary.

Completely oblivious to his ~~MURDER PLANS~~ machinations, Saber's eye closes for a final time. Whether or not she'll actually wake after two hours is somewhat dubious. ]

[ Two hours isn't enough for him. It's not enough to trek back into the forest and find one of the knights still alive, pry information out of him as easily as taking his teeth, and then following it back to the one truly responsible. It isn't enough time to find Baron Clayton's manor, enter it from the front gates, and slaughter all who come within his sights. The guards, the stableboys, the house staff, the ladies of his chambers; they are all guilty for supporting him, deserving of the edge of his blade. It shouldn't be enough time to find the man himself indulging in a fatty serving of roasted pig, skewering him through his arm, his thigh, his shoulder, and then his side, one strike for each time she had been hit. He shouldn't have had enough time to watch him bleed out in front of him, the baron's eyes as wide as a fish's in shock.

But he does find the time for all of those things, and it is done. It is only when he sets the sword upon his back that he realizes that the tips of his fingers are turning transparent, the image of the dead baron beyond them as clear as looking through glass. This form of his is fading... which is a shame because he had other targets upon his mind-- the other nobles in that arena. He must return to her.

When Saber wakes, Jin himself will no longer be there in his corporeal form. Instead, the blade will be embedded within the wooden floor, its edge now soaked with blood. ]

[ Saber's dreams are the wild, strange, vaguely abstract creatures of drunken and/or fevered nightmares in those two hours. Shards of glass hidden under fresh snowfall, a layer of fallen leaves that broke underfoot to pitch the walker into the dark of endless soil, touching an old beloved friend on the shoulder only for them to collapse in on themselves, leaving bones and dust and memory.

She remembers none of it on waking, only a deep-seated sense of unease and disorientation that has her instantly on full alert as she wrestles herself upright (ignoring the sharp stabbing pain in her side from the arrow wound).

And then her eyes fall on Jin.

She has a visible limp during her walk across the floorboards to rest a hand on the sword pommel, eyes narrowing at the red stain marring the flawless metal. Her unease only increases on realizing how fresh the blood is. ]

...what happened?

[ A thief? Someone trying to enter the room in her sleep? Who knows. ]

[ She's awake at the end of those two hours as if she has an internal clock. It's these little things that make him aware of how her aptitude isn't exactly like the rest of the mortals.

He had rushed back to this room, barely holding his form together at that point, and he hadn't had time to clean the blade off before vanishing entirely. It feels sticky upon his steel, but what's even more discomforting is the thought that it is that pig's blood upon him.

He gives her a non-answer. ] You're safe now. [ Or maybe he made things worse. Maybe he made the other nobles more aware. Or maybe he created some sort of small power vacuum. But he doesn't care about that, not really. ]

So you can stay here longer.

Jin...

[ Her voice is soft, barely a whisper compared to the noise from downstairs as the patrons resume their previous activities, her eyes glued to the stain on the length of his blade.

But volume is nothing compared to tone. Saber doesn't need to raise her voice - all the censure she needs is clearly implied. As clearly as the real answer he doesn't dare give her.
She doesn't need to hear it. She knows. And as her eyes move up to the gem set in the crossguard, her dismay plain to see even through her face remains carefully blank of expression. ]

What have you done?

[ Saber isn't stupid. Whatever he's been up to in her absence, the lives he may or may not have taken, he's never lied to her before. What is it he's so afraid to tell her?
Her gaze is steady, expectant, and utterly unwavering. It seems she won't let the matter drop until he yields. ]

[ She doesn't approve. He should have known-- or perhaps he did know, but he did it anyway. ]

They were scum. All of them. The baron, his household. [ The sword itself is as inanimate as ever with the blue core crystal coolly silent and dim within the room. But the more he speaks, the more emotion seeps into his voice, charged and biting... and carrying something deeper.

He did not personally know this baron beyond the brief set of words exchanged with Saber at the tourney, and it certainly shouldn't have been enough to set him off. Yet he had acted upon it all the same, as if the hate for him had been brewing for quite some time. As if it was a hate that did not extend to only one single human himself. ]

I simply rid the world of them.

[ It seems that both his kind and most of the knowledge of his kind have been lost to history for the worse. Because as most would have known in his time, Blades are generally fiercely loyal... and Blades like Jin are controlled for a good reason by their masters. ]

[ The baron and his household.

The baron and his household.

Saber closes her eyes as if his admission has physically wounded her, lifting her hand from the pommel of his sword as if burned. She had thought after travelling for a time as they had, offering aid along the way...
Well. She'd hoped he'd come to connect to the land and her people as Saber had come to love them in her time as Sir Ector's squire. A foolish task in hindsight, but it's always been her nature to see the good in someone. To nurture it.

Through all that anger, she's not sure if he even understands why what he's done is so heinous. Saber remains still only as long as it takes for her to wrestle her outrage into control before turning back towards the bed, her hands clenched at her sides.. ]

Is the cook to blame for sending assassins? The maid, for poisoning the arrows?

[ They were people, Jin. The idea of him cutting down servants who were unarmed, unskilled, and entirely unaware of their impending death... ]

You have shamed us both.

[ They are leaving. Now.

This time she doesn't bother to clean the stain from Jin's sword, merely wrenching the tip from the floorboards and returning it to the sheath at her side. The previous tenant of the room left a travelling cloak hanging from a peg by the door - a garment that Saber takes both to cover the slash in her leggings and to hide the sword from prying eyes, forcing her stride into a semblance of normal despite the wound in her thigh biting deep at every step.

If she cannot trust him, she cannot use him. That much is plain. ]

[ They are just as guilty, in his mind, for supporting the baron in the first place. For feeding the pig that ordered a murder, for cleaning out a chamber pot belonging to human trash that wanted Saber dead.

So she's exactly right that he doesn't understand, and she'll feel both his confusion and indignation at her words, as if he has taken it as an insult that he is the one who brought shame. He would have said something in return, defensive and stubborn, but then she picks him up and wraps the cloak about her and-- ]

...What are you doing? [ He asks, concern leaking into his tone despite his budding frustration, but he already knows the answer. She's already setting out-- as if what he did for her doesn't matter at all! ]

You're still injured. You're going to reopen your wounds.

[ Then so be it. She'll gladly water the soil with her own lifeblood if it means not staying here.

In response to his alarm, in the connection between them, there's simply... nothing. Nothing at all. He might as well be talking to himself.
It seems Saber has decided the most effective way to express her displeasure with his murdering spree is to shut him out in the most literal sense of the word.

No-one seems to pay her much attention on her way out; just another weary, pale boy in a crowd of ruddy faced farmhands and labourers. She only allows the limp to return once the pain becomes too much to bear, well out of sight of the patrons as she steps into the street beyond.

This is a point she will not budge on. However long it takes, there will be no heroic deeds, no tourneys, nothing until she can make him understand the tragedy that's occurred that night at his hands. ]

--Saber!

[ But there is nothing in response, so much so that he's not sure if there is even a connection between them at this point.

The silence won't exactly be the most effective treatment on Jin. In many ways he's very much a child that does not know what he has done wrong, and a punishment without so much as an explanation only frustrates him further.

...But that's not exactly true, either. He knows that she disapproves of what he did. Obviously. But was it the method in which he did it? Did he steal the kills that she wished to take? Or was it too little, too much? And if it was too much, then why? Or would it matter at all of what she thought, if he has already made up his mind about the baron and all of his staff?

He going to sulk in his soul-scape. And try to ignore the feeling of blood congealing upon his steel, as she still hasn't cleaned it off yet. It's disgusting, dirty, and it feels as if the baron's blood still on him is the true punishment within this silence. ]

[ Part of it is meant as punishment, but in all honesty........ Saber can't recall being so angry for a very, very long time indeed.

Anger is natural. It can even be a useful tool, when properly harnessed and directed into worthy endeavours. But this outrage, this fury, it's too wild to rein in just yet. It needs to burn a little first, and Saber's nothing if not intensely disciplined.
She'll speak to Jin eventually. Just not for the foreseeable future just yet.

In the meantime, her feet take her on a winding route through the village - from the tavern to the tailor to the blacksmith, the latter two to pick up new leggings and...

A sword.

It's old, scratched, and not nearly as fine as Jin's, but she wants to work out her emotions in a healthy way, not topple a whole forest with one swing. Besides, it's not like she's foolish enough to try until her wounds knit enough not to immediately reopen. Perhaps in a few days.

With those errands completed, only then does she return to the room Jin carried her to, returning the cloak to the peg by the door, stripping off her modest armour, releasing her hair from the high bun she usually keeps it in...
And yes, she's considerably more tired than usual. Saber's merely too stubborn to admit to weakness.

Finally, finally, she takes Jin's sword from his sheath to clean the crusted blood from the flat of the blade. It's done much like she would any other sword - mechanical, practised motions. At least her anger has dimmed a little, weighing her shoulders and movement with every gesture.

At the end of it all she props the humble sword and Jin's blade at the head of the bed side-by-side. Two hours of sleep was enough for a short stroll. For a longer venture like walking to the neighbouring fiefdom, she'll have to rest and recover a good while longer.
It doesn't take long for her to fall asleep again after lying down. Aside from the faintest strain of music from downstairs as the locals deep in their cups start bringing out instruments as entertainment, only the sound of Saber's quiet breathing fills the room. ]

[ ...Did she just--

She did.

She bought a new sword.

And she'll know his displease the moment she holds it, because a flare of ice-cool wind will brush out across the entire market as if it were emitted from the Blade still strapped to her back. It might turn a few heads and knock off a couple caps, but other than that it's harmless.

Because then after that, the sword will be strangely silent, as if the wall in their connection is being bolstered by him as well. He's withdrawing into the sanctuary of the endless white void, still confused and... a new feeling. There's a new feeling along with it. It stings as if something has just hurt him, but it guilt him as if he is the one who caused that harm in the first place. Betrayal, perhaps? That could be it, and it sticks with him even as she cleans the filth from his blade form.

She's using a sword that is not him.

He wants to destroy that sword so bad. So, so bad. It's right there, next to him as she rests in her bed. Why can't he have a solid body right now?? He could just as easily reach over to it and break it with his own two hands, just as he did with the sword she had tried to use against him when they first met.

When she wakes, the new sword she bought will still be there. But it-- and a good portion of the floor around Jin-- will be encased in ice. ]

[ To say Saber sleeps like the dead isn't much of an exaggeration. Almost a full day passes before she wakes again - feeling a lot like she's been thrown into a dryer on high setting and not looking much better - and drags herself out of the bed with a great deal of grimacing at the soreness of her limbs.

You know what two things should never be in the same room together?

It's very simple. Allow me to enlighten you.

1. An injured person
and
2. A giant goddamn patch of ice.

As in it takes almost no time at all for Saber to place a foot on the falling hazard Jin has SO KINDLY LEFT IN THE ROOM, put her weight on that leg, and very narrowly avoids landing flat on her ass or cracking her head open on the floor by virtue of bracing herself against the headboard at the last second. She still ends up on one knee (and goes a shade paler as the wound in that thigh reminds her that yes, she is, in fact, still injured as all hell) and needs several seconds of drawing in hissing breaths through clenched teeth to get her composure back under control.

Her limp is worsened by time and the unexpected fall when she crosses the room to the basin and pitcher of water on the table.

THANKS

A

LOT

JIN

She's still pretty mad tho... aside from a glance filled with you are in so much trouble she doesn't really acknowledge the fact he's made 1/5th of the room into a skating rink and her new sword into a sword shaped popsicle. At least that explains why the room itself has become noticeably colder. ]

[ Oh. Well. .....Oops.

But she deserves it for replacing him. And continuing to ignore him, what the hell? This woman's anger is unpleasant to be subjected to; he wonders if he would much rather have her outright yell at him instead. He's also still wondering what she would say.

Not that it might matter either way, she clearly doesn't want to speak to him, let alone hear him tell her to rest further, or even give her a half-assed apology for creating that ice. Instead because he is an asshole, he'll only mutter, ] Look at the state of you. You're slipping on ice.

[ Her back stiffens noticeably at the quip, but she still doesn't respond. Nettling her pride only makes her more determined not to cave to whatever childish antics he's up to.

In fact, you know what?

She's gonna grab that crappy old sword, ice and all, and put it on her sword belt. Garbo sword is coming down to breakfast with her because it doesn't give her sass and try to booby trap her room!!!!!
Plus. I mean. She's totally going to use it as a crutch when she's out of sight of Jin.

On her way out, skirting the patch of ice with Jin at the center, she finally speaks to him without looking at him. ]

I had thought I would be safe here even with our quarrel. Apparently I was mistaken.

[ ZING.
The door gets closed and locked behind her as she slowly descends the stairs to buy breakfast and bring it back up. Saber's sure as hell going to take her sweet time coming back, though. ]

[ BUT HE WANTS BREAKFAST TOO DAMMIT. She better not be using that sword to butter her toast either!!

Before he can get another word out, the door is shut and the connection is cut once more. Disgruntled, he settles back into the white nothingness and simply.... stews in thought.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe it had been the way her brow had been furrowed so. But she had looked tired just then, as if only now her injuries are beginning to wear on her body, and not just from her little slip on the ice. Or maybe she's just as tired from this little spat they're having. He is too, but he still doesn't understand. Regardless it bothers him to see her in that state, since he has known her to be much stronger than that.

I thought I would be safe here--

He can't deny that it stings, because safe is what he had thought to provide her from the start. That is what his kind are especially capable of as well. Their bond is so new that it has only just allowed her to use a fraction of his offensive power, and not at all unlocked any of the defensive capabilities. In a state like that and using a sword that is not him, she is clearly not safe. She's still hurt. She's going out while still hurt.

Exactly how will she return, he wonders. Even more ragged than before? Maybe openly bleeding from her wounds? Is that what her stubbornness will yield in not using him? So that others can strike her down all the more easi--

.....Ah. That's not.... why she's refusing to carry him. Not for her own safety. But for others. She thinks that he is dangerous. ]

[ She's gonna butter that toast on BOTH SIDES and he aint gettin any!!!!

It's pretty good bread, as far as peasant food goes. A small hand-sized loaf of rye bread still gently steaming from the oven, a bowl of pottage... and that's about as luxurious a breakfast as she can afford.
But it's warm and filling, so it'll have to do.

She's got it all balanced on a small tray, a spoon held in her mouth as she maneuvers herself back through the door and plops down on the bedside with a sigh. Turns out even climbing stairs is a little much right now.

Her eyes are firmly glued to the food on her lap, but in reality she's keeping an eye on Jin's sword where he's still propped up by the headboard.

Arguing is tiring. Being angry is tiring. But this is a lesson she will not concede, because if he doesn't understand why she's chosen to take up him instead of any other sword... ]

They say the Baron was a cruel man. He isn't missed. [ A deceptively casual tone while she breaks the bread open. As if discussing the weather. ] He kept slaves. Did you know?

[ Not that he openly admitted to slaves, obviously. Only men and women he had "helped" here and there, and just requested a little drudge work in return.
A contract.
Work for him, and your children would never know hunger. Work for him, and you would have no need to worry about a roof over your head. Sweet words to lure in the desperate. After all, what's a little indentured servitude when starvation is the only other option? ]

Do you know why I'm angry, Jin?

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Here comes THE TALK