![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
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? ]
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? ]
no subject
[ 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
ordersuggestion 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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
At least it's a short journey to the center of what serves as the marketplace. Pennants, booths selling all a manner of festive foods and drink...
And a rocky outcropping with some rather precarious footing, which Saber makes a beeline for. Particularly one fine specimen of solid rock that reaches her hip. After drawing near enough, she reverses her grip on Jin's handle, raises the blade high, and plunges it deep within the stone with a shriek of metal until only a foot of the blade is visible, not counting the crossguard and grip.
With that done, she steps aside and gestures the knight towards it with one hand. ]
Draw the blade from the stone, if you are certain of your righteous cause.
[ The noise is enough to draw the attention of some passersby, some of which are curious enough to watch from the sidelines. The knight, meanwhile, gives Saber a suspicious stare but does as he's bid, moving to plant his feet and wrap his fingers around the sword grip.
His unease and hesitation only grows as Saber adds: ]
Be warned. The sword will not accept the unworthy.
[ One last jab at his pride. But with the crowd watching and a slip of a boy challenging him like this, the knight really has no choice but to comply. Backing out will only grant him ridicule. ]
no subject
And, ew. He has to have this man's hands on him? No thanks. ] Is this really necessary. [ --Is his complaint. She can be sure that he is grumping so hard right now.
The ability to wield a Blade may have very well been a science in years past, but Jin could never explain it himself. He is merely subject to someone's potential, not someone who exercised it. But what he recalls is the term aptitude. The greater the aptitude, the less a Blade would be able to refuse a call by a master. After coming to know Saber thus far, Jin has already determined that the girl could have very possibly overpowered his will with her own when she first came in contact with him, had he not summoned her to his soul-space instead to bypass the test in the first place. A loophole. He still went through the rite of becoming her Blade which does indeed subject him to her will more or less, but if she had no aptitude at all, she would not have been able to lift him, period.
And it would not have been a pretty result.
But, sure, fine. This knight can just try to pick him up and learn what it is to be so lacking in "aptitude". Of course any actual display of power on Jin's part would immediately give him away. So there won't be some sort of discharge of icy energy on Jin' part to knock the man out when the he takes a hold of the sword. But what does happen is that the knight is going to feel as if his hands have become frigid and numb just from touching the blade. If he doesn't remove them from the hilt of the sword, his fingers might start to turn black. ]
Icon appropriate for Saber mentally laughing at this loser
[ The elder knight tries gamely again and again to pull the blade free, forced to let go and warm his fingers between each attempt. Each becomes shorter, and shorter, and finally he's forced to tuck his hands in his armpits, giving Jin's blade the stinkeye as he does.
They've accumulated quite the crowd by now. Mostly curious, some eager, although less so once the knight drops his hands back to his sides - the worn leather of his gloves gone grey and cracked with cold, the buckles heavy with rime.
"The devil that isn't the cursed sword!" He snarls, rounding on Saber and taking an aggressive step towards her. "You are a liar, a murderer, and a cheat!"
That gets Saber's hackles up. ]
Be silent. [ The command is enough to bring the knight up short, audibly grinding his teeth as he subsides back to angrily muttering about witchcraft and hedge mage trickery. ]
You were warned. It measured you against its standards and found you wanting; that is your failing, not mine.
[ The few eager faces (younger knights, pages and squires, mostly) look considerably less enthused to jump at the chance to draw the sword themselves, considering the stiffness with which the elder knight's fingers move as he curls them into fists at his sides. As for Saber, she's pretty satisfied with the outcome.
git gud old man]There. Problem solved.
1/2
And while he'd rather not have people try to take him out of the sword and claim him as their own, it seems that this is a good as method as any.
...And more humane as well. Because when the adventurers had come into the tomb he had been placed in, he killed them for even trying. Jin being satisfied with simply sending knight off with a bit of frostbite instead of dismembering him is the true mark of how much he's grown. That, or he's not doing anything more out of respect for his current wielder. ]
Fine, you had your fun. Can you take me out of this rock now--
no subject
[ A cloaked figure makes his way through the crowd, greeting Saber with a strangely casual wave, and an equally strange cheer in his voice. The crowd looks towards the new challenger, whispers already humming among them like bees over honey, as this man was definietly not part of the earlier tournament. The man in question stands confidently before Saber, but not pompously, as he seems to pay the onlookers no mind.
Instead he puts down the hood of his cloak, looking towards the blade embedded into the stone. ] You don't mind, I hope. Cursed or not, that is indeed a magnificent blade...
[ Which is interesting for him to say, considering that with already two ornate swords strapped at his hip, he shouldn't need a third. ]
no subject
You needn't fuss so. It hasn't been as long as--
[ It's probably a good thing that their usual squabbling is cut short, interrupting Saber's playful retort for a somewhat startled glance at the newcomer. She hadn't seen him in the first few brackets of the tourney... ]
By all means. [ At least the brief lapse is practically unnoticeable as she regains her usual poise, stepping aside to gesture towards the blade still anchored in the stone (although the rock is looking a little worse for the wear, with the previous knight heaving away like that). The swords at the newcomer's hips doesn't escape her notice.
A lordling? Not just anyone would openly carry around their wealth like that. How curious.
To say she's somewhat suspicious is a bit of an understatement. But still... she can't really allow it to cloud her judgment since he's really only just got here. That's hardly fair, right?
she's totes suspicious of this dude tho]1/2
[ With a more careful attention to his steps, he manages to make it the blade. Rolling his shoulders back casually, he lifts a hand towards the sword. ]
no subject
Hrk--
[ That. Was definitely a grunt on Jin's part, as if he had just suffered a hard blow to the stomach. A short but strong cold gust of wind rushes out from around them, bending branches and threatening to overturn nearby carts. A few members of the crowd shout in surprise, clutching their caps or turning to brace themselves, but as quickly as it came it stops as if suddenly sealed, like capping a candle. Some energy still seeps through the edges of the seal, white and crystallizing like snow suspended in mist; she'll recognize that as his power, but it's weakening.
Jin can't exactly spirit the man away into his soul scape to fight him himself, not in front of all of these onlookers, and there is something that is actively fighting against using any of his own abilities to just freeze the man's hands right then and there. And then if that weren't enough she'll hear his voice once more, although now it comes distant as if he is actively being pulled away from her, their connection straining. ] Saber...
no subject
Jin's not the only one to immediately tell something is wrong. About the same time the cold starts to emit from his sword, she feels a wrenching sensation in her chest, as if something important has been seized and squashed against her ribs in an attempt to be pulled free.
It's... not a pleasant feeling. ]
Jin?!
[ No, no mere lordling, this man.
She can't exactly give the stranger the boot, after inviting him in. To say her expression is thinly veiled but murderous is a massive understatement.
No, no violence just yet. Soon. Just not yet.
Something is disrupting the connection, and so far it's been Jin that's sustained that bond since they first met... but if she were to bolster his power with hers, perhaps they can anchor themselves against whatever it is this stranger is attempting to do.
As before, when he'd bid her to imagine a fire to act as a catalyst for releasing his power, she focuses intently on their bond. It's weaker now - a trickle compared to the river it was before - but still there.
Not quite understanding how or why, Saber reaches through the connection, pouring every ounce of focus into the bond to replace the power being siphoned off, widening the link with pure brute force. It's neither graceful nor particularly inconspicuous, but the pulling sensation in her chest begins to lessen the more she reinforces the bond.
The seal cannot last like this. Not fighting two fronts. And Saber, who at this point is practically burning a hole into the stranger's back with her gaze alone, can't help but feel at least a little possessive of Jin. She won her right by combat, and yet this man just waltzes in and tries to take what isn't his?
Absolutely not. ]
1/2
He doesn't want that.
Even if he knows he shouldn't care, has no right to care because this is all part of Blade's lot in the universe, he finds that he does. Something-- someone had once taught him that the memories he makes are important. That they mean something, regardless of how fleeting. That their journey however short is significant. That it matters-- that Saber matters, and that because it matters he has to fight for it, he has to want to it to last as long as it can, he has to fight for her.
The energy she gives in return is a lifeline, one that he willingly grasps, siphons, and pulls on so hard that she might be brought down with it as he takes her energy. Throughout their battles he has bestowed a margin of his own upon her, bolstering her strength and speed, her reflexes; purely physical attributes that a mortal might need. The power he receives from her is used similarly, but instead of needing her energy to enhance muscles, nerves, and bones, he uses it as a shield, and then as a sword in of itself-- a powerful one, full of light and passion and energy and her-- to strike back at the new ties that threaten to bind him.
It all happens in an instant, one moment she lends her will to him, and the next he whips that energy towards the stranger's, causing a burst of light to erupt from the core crystal. Now those caps fly off the heads of whoever isn't hold them. Now those unsecured carts overturn, spilling their contents onto the earth and the shockwave passes through the camp. ]
no subject
He looks from Saber, and then to the sword, and then to Saber again. A frown forms, matching his look of disbelief. ] .....You.
[ Straightening, he begins to approach her. ]
no subject
Not because some flashy young lord has tried to take something that's hers. Jin is not property. A mere sword can be broken, stolen, reforged, replaced. But a person? Not a chance.
This man is trying to take her partner. She must protect him as he has for her on several occasions, because anything less would make her unworthy of that partnership.
The power swells, as inexorable as the tide, rising against the seal until it
finally
breaks.
Like the others nearby, Saber's forced to drop to one knee to keep from being knocked over by the shockwave, her focus broken and the full weight of fatigue settling over her shoulders as the bond returns to normal. She nearly misses the accusatory statement while she stands again (a little wobbly, but can you really blame her?).
When she finally does stand to face the approaching lordling, she tilts her chin upwards, hands crossed over her chest in the most "git gud" stance this side of the Dark Souls community.
Yeah, she slapped your greedy magic fingers off her partner. Learn some manners, my dude. ]
1/2
The strength behind that aura, just now... Incredible! [ He laughs, the sound hardy and deep, as if he's unable to keep his excitement down. A hand goes to his chin as he pauses to think for a moment, and when he resume speaking there's an additional enthusiastic sparkle in his eyes. ] I haven't seen something like that in ages.
Where did you learn how to do that? [ He asks her as if he's expecting her to say something he might recognize. A famous instructor, perhaps, or the name of another sword. Whereas before his attention had been directed upon the sword, now his eyes sweep over her with interest and for any signs of familiarity. ]
no subject
But. Jin is here. Still hers as well. That's the most he can ask for at this moment. ]
His swords.... [ He tells her, voice ragged. ] They are one of my kind.
[ And he's only just realized it the moment he had used Saber's energy to deflect the man's try to claim him. For in that instant he had felt it, that there was more than just one power at work behind the attempt. Surely the man could have fought back longer with a Blade of his own, but he had stopped... ]
no subject
That's not what she was expecting. If anything, his reaction throws her entirely off-balance, her eyebrows disappearing briefly under her bangs as she glances between Jin and the stranger and back again. More specifically, the twin blades on the stranger's sword belt once Jin's warning sinks in.
Jin's kind. She wasn't aware there were more.
As for the stranger's question: ]
I... I'm not sure? It was --
[ Well. "An accident" isn't entirely true, but pretty close. Honestly, she was operating on autopilot. How did she do the thing? No idea.
Wait wait wait wait. First thing's first, they can't discuss the subject of legendary swords out here in the open like this. It's practically painting a target on their backs for more petty squabbles and thievery attempts, and Saber is not keen on catching more blades in the back the moment her vigilance slips.
Gathering her sadly tattered pride around herself like a cloak, Saber squares her shoulders and walks to the sword still embedded in the stone, clearly intending on retrieving her partner now that the spectacle is over.
And with her hands back on the familiar pommel, Jin can probably feel her pride in him through the bond. He did well. ]
This is not a good venue for this topic.
1/2
[ And only because she's brought it up does he realize that whoops. There is even more of a crowd gathering. It seems the commotion only drew additional spectators rather than scare them away.... ]
...Of course, of course. The tavern, perhaps?
[ NO. ]
no subject
When she withdraws him from the stone, all the ice that's clinging to the air and ground around it will be absorbed back into the blade within the span of seconds. ]
no subject
Full of people.
... well, technically being in plain sight is likely a good idea. Anyone with any sense knows that gossip heard in a place where ale flows freely needs to be taken with a generous pinch of salt.
as long as there's no outright HEY WE HAVE MONEY COME STEAL IT and so on]It will do. [ She returns Jin's sword to the sheath at her side, letting her palm rest on the grip both to keep the sword tip from dragging (damn her tiny legs) and to better soak in the warmth through the connection. Strange how she'd immediately missed the weight of him at her side.
And in typical Saber fashion, she begins walking without checking to see if she's being followed by their new acquaintance. ] This way.
In the meantime, it is courteous to introduce oneself, is it not?
[ Yeah, totally still suspicious of this guy. Even if he has a very... friendly manner about him.
Especially with two swords like Jin in his possession. She has many questions. ]
no subject
Addam. [ He provides, giving her a grin even if she may not pay any attention to it. ] I've only just managed to come to this town, and it is quite the coincidence-- no, fate!-- that we should meet here.
[ He laughs. ] It is a pleasure to meet you.
[ CAN HE SLAP HER ON THE BACK LIKE THEY'RE BEST BUDS? Because he's going to do that. Watch out. ]
no subject
why u gotta inflict this friendly contact on her huhShe does remember to dip her head in polite acknowledgement at the introduction, though. ]
Saber. Well met.
[ Fate, huh? Well. At least he doesn't seem like the type to put a knife in her back the moment her guard is down. Addam is a rather... candid fellow from what she's seen so far.
The tavern is a short jaunt from the center of the venue, so in no time at all they're seated at a table of their own, with a barmaid already on the way back to the kitchens to fetch them drinks.
Plain water for Saber, of course. ]
So. [ She studies Addam's face briefly, her own expression a study in bland politeness. ] I understand you have swords with similar... quirks as mine.
no subject
He's going to have a nice glass of-- oh, they don't have rice wine, whaaaaat? No way, okay, fine, he'll take some mead.
Although he nearly spit-takes when she mentions that the sword is hers. ] ---Ah? You mean, you actually claimed--...
[ There's a long pause as it seems some gears click within his head, the answer soon lining up neatly. And when it does occur to him, he looks completely aghast. LISTEN he thought she was just carrying the sword?? ]
Ah. So that is why it was difficult. [ Sitting back in his seat, rubbing his chin...... ] Er, then. You have my sincerest apologies, Saber. [ A w k warddd. But he wants to get an actual apology out of the way first before going on to answer her question, bowing his head towards her. ]
no subject
(Never tell her she's cute to her face tho she'd be very indignant about it)
What's this "claiming" business he's talking about? Look, she kinda just barged into Jin's house and bullied him into being friends, and now they're partners so???
Saber raises a hand to politely head off Addam's somewhat... enthusiastic expression of remorse. ]
I appreciate the sentiment, but apologies are not necessary. I, too, am to blame for the misstep.
[ There. Equal blame. That's fair, right? ]
If you've any advice for us, however, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm afraid I don't know anything about the background or care of such weaponry beyond the usual.
[ Does Jin sleep? Eat? What if he gets sick? C'mon, help her out here. ]
no subject
Where to begin with advice? Hah, I should be asking that with you! A Blade and their Master are one in body and soul, as the scholars say. [ A grin. ] And the strength of the bond you two share is palpable in its force. I felt it back there-- when your Blade rejected me.
[ But that's not what she's asking about, is it? So he continues, now looking at her curiously. ] Let us start with this... [ He sets his mug down onto the wooden table. ] A Blade. Object, or person?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)