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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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?

[ He had thought she were going to immediately head out somewhere in the town for the day, wanting her own space. That she didn't would already be surprising enough, but that she's speaking with him is even more shocking. ]

Do you want me to answer? [ He can guess. That's what he's been doing this entire time while she had been giving him the cold shoulder. Guessing at what he did to upset her. Guessing at what would make her pick him back up as her primary sword. He thinks he's gotten close with some of them, but they're confusing to him. Why would anyone be upset at the rest of the household perishing at his blade? Slaves? Well, they're slaves no longer; he did them a service. ] Or are you going to tell me at last.

[ He is probably not helping with that tone of his in return, bitter and cold as it is. In many ways, he's quite like a child. ]

I would hear your reasons, yes.

[ Calm, Saber. Calm. She remembers having arguments like this when she was younger, but... the situation was reversed. A disagreement on not hoarding or taking more from forage than needed that lasted many nights until her frustration broke under Sir Ector's patience.
How ironic that she's now lecturing a being far older than herself.

She takes a tentative spoonful of the pottage. Not bad, for a dish without meat. ]

You don't strike me as a cruel man by nature. Humor me.

[ How strange for her to say that she doesn't think of him as cruel when he had slaughtered an entire house but a few nights ago. But those words also get him to think, and that's the important part. She wouldn't know if he is cruel by nature or not.... but really, neither should he. For aside from the various thieves that had tried to steal him from the tomb throughout the years, he has never interacted with the outside world in this lifetime.

There had't been a chance for him to be truly cruel until then. ]

You are upset... that I killed them. Those slaves. And the others.

[ Is the best of his answers, and he believes that he is right about that. ] You don't believe they deserved to die along with the baron.

Just so.

[ The emphasis on you isn't lost on her, but she's choosing to ignore that. ]

Killing the Baron bought us time - that, I will not contest. But what did you gain from killing serfs?

[ A genuine question. Half because she's still baffled why he'd stoop to such a thing, and half because he clearly had a reason. He must have had a reason.

~~god help him if that reason was "murder"~~ ]

[ One less human on the planet. One less human who would kill far more than he would if they only had the power. One less human that would betray and murder those most dear to him--

But he doesn't remember that. What he had felt, what he had cursed in his previous life. The sentiment has remained, but he cannot reach into his memory to piece together those murky, hazy feelings together to give it as one coherent reason (not that he would).

Instead, the best he can give her is: ]

They served the man.

[ She could chalk it up to him simply being from a different time, and perhaps this brutality simply was how it had been years past. Or maybe his mindset is too much like a Blade's-- where if the wielder dies, so too does the weapon. The baron and his staff had not been so different; if Clayton were dead, it would follow that the rest should perish as well. ] Once a the master dies, his servants must follow.

[ ...well, not the answer she was hoping to hear, but... ]

Why?

[ Saber can't help but be genuinely puzzled. It's like he doesn't see them as people, only - ]

Servants are not tools, Jin. People are not tools. Lives are not something to be so easily discarded.

[ She subsides into some disquiet, considering the subject matter, her brows furrowed in thought as she gazes at him as if she can see him physically standing in the room instead of his sword form. How long had be been alone, to not know virtues like foresight and mercy?
Perhaps she's going at this all wrong. ]

Consider: were the roles reversed, if I was a servant, and you a lord, would you wish for my death like you did for them? Would I be guilty of crimes I did not commit?

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Here comes THE TALK

(ノ ゜Д゜)ノ ︵ ┻━┻.

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(ノ゜Д゜)ノ︵ ┻━┻.