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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? ]
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A brief moment passes where his eyes partially crack open and he sees the unfamiliar perspective of the room on its side, of the bed from being centered atop of, of a sheet pulled over him and the golden top of a head just infringing upon the lower portion of his vision. He doesn’t need to look to know that it is Saber that is against him, because it is her same touch and warmth he feels whenever she actually holds him as a sword, unmistakably steady and strong, only quieter.
And it’s... nice. Nice enough that it distracts him from the actual reality of him being.
He closes his eyes again, his chest rising and falling slowly with each breath (breaths that actually utilize actual air), taking in her scent, relaxing into her warmth, holding her lightly, relaxed, curled up against him. He’s always known her to be a lithe, slight thing, but now she feels impossibly small against him. She might as well be a fae herself, her skin so soft despite its various scars— and indeed he feels those, too, as his hand wanders to the top of her gown at her back, fingertips brushing along her shoulder blades. If this is a dream, he won’t mind indulging it in a little longer...
He shifts only slightly as he begins to drift back into sleep once more, one of his lungs twining with hers at the ankles. ]
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Fingers at the nape of her neck. Foreign heartbeats. Intruder.
Then, and only then, does she wake enough to realize a) she's no longer alone, b) someone is close enough that she can hear their breath, and c) she is unarmed, unarmoured, and entirely helpless. Foolish. She should have known better, to let her guard down and hope that she could remain undisturbed even for one day.
Her eyes snap open - wild with the animalistic fury of having her personal space infringed upon, so instinctive that her usual self-control has yet to restrain it at such an early hour in the morning.
If this stranger thinks she will be as meek and oblivious as any village maid, they are sorely mistaken.
The only hint that Saber is awake, and likely the only warning Jin has, is her suddenly going stock still and taut as a bowstring under his touch, every muscle of her being coiled in readiness to oust this unexpected intruder from her bed with extreme prejudice.
Which she does by planting both her palms against his chest and pushing, hard. If he isn't careful, he'll get thrown off the mattress entirely, and possibly bounce off the opposite wall considering how much of her strength she throws behind such a simple motion. ]
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An instinctive, ugly sense of betrayal. He's being ripped from the hazy support of the dream, like suddenly being taken from forge and slammed hard against the anvil, not at all ready to take the cruel hammer that will wipe his memories clean. But he doesn't want to leave, not yet, he doesn't want to forget, not yet, he doesn't want to be torn from what he's made of himself in these few weeks, he doesn't want to repeat finding another to whom he may bond, he won't allow it, he won't allow her to do this to him--
She may have strength, but his is wholly inhuman. When she unleashes just the initial force of her push against him, he's going to turn it completely on her instead.
One hand will shackle both of her slight wrists in them, swiftly slamming them above her head, and the other grips her side to forcefully shove her against the bed. He's over her now, pinning her, a knee intentionally between her legs, and he's looking down at her as if he has lost himself entirely. He does not see who is trapped beneath him, he does not see that it is her, and he certainly doesn't realize that to be able to be solid and pin anyone like this at all should be shocking if of itself. No, he's still quite trapped in a dream that has turned foul.
The balance of power between Blades and their masters is laughable; with but a thought he could be dismissed. He could be rendered inanimate. He could forget everything...
(When he realizes that this is all a misunderstanding, he's going to have to truly rethink what she means to him, for him to have this sort of reaction at just the thought of her dismissing him.) ]
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She sees only a shadow backlit by the first rays of the sun; a terror torn free from the fabric of the darkest nightmares, a beast with the grip of iron and eyes as savage and thunderous with fury as her own. Saber is no coward, greeting the shadow pinning her down with a dramatic increase in her struggles and a distinctly uncharacteristic snarl on her face, wounded more in pride than anything physical.
How dare he?
This intruder will reap the whirlwind he has sown a hundred times over when she can reach the sword by the bed. Saber reaches for Jin as she has many times before in combat, willing her partner's strength to bolster her limbs, intending to break free of her assailant's grasp with all the righteous indignation of a lion bursting out of a cage --
but
The connection doesn't come from where she left Jin's sword propped as usual by the headboard, but instead the figure overhead. Almost as if... ]
Jin?!
[ How did he... when did he...?
All the anger drops away as Saber puts two and two together, eyes darting to the fringe of his hair, and the gentle gleam of the gem set in his forehead hidden away under his bangs. All resistance instantly ceases the moment she recognizes him for who he is. ]
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She thinks he might hurt her. ] ...Sa...ber?
[ His eyes narrow down at her, his frown deepens, brow furrowing as if attempting to recognize the name he's just spoken and the face in front of him. It's like he's being called back from a stupor, each syllable of her name spoken slowly, carefully over and over in his head. But what is she doing here? How is he able to touch her? This shouldn't be possible...
(And her eyes are such a vibrant green.)
Jin's still on top of her, still pinning her, still frozen on the spot... save for the hand that had been at her waist. It raises now, slowly, fingers carefully outstretching with a fine tremor until they brush lightly upon her cheek. He can hardly believe it, but--... it is true. He can feel her, solid and whole and real. He, too, is real. ]
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This is probably a scene that would make most highborn ladies clutch their pearls, but Saber is far more interested in taking in the presence of her partner.
After a brief, comfortable silence as they gaze at one another, blue meeting green, she turns her face further into his touch. ]
Good morning.
[ She is, perhaps, a little embarrassed at this whole kerfuffle if the faintest dusting of pink over her cheeks is any indication. Or perhaps Jin's closeness, considering she's not at all acclimatized to being so close to someone outside of combat.
Yes, he's attractive. No, she has no idea what to do with that informationInstead of making the situation more awkward, she tugs a little at the hand still clamped over her wrists. Not enough to be demanding, per se, but enough to give him a hint that she'd prefer not to feel so exposed. ]
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And then he's off of her in split second, his recoil almost violent in how he leaps from the bed like her skin is hot coal. He staggers backwards on legs that have yet to be accustomed to actual gravity, actual floors, and actual imperfections in said floors, almost stumbling over a divot in the wooden paneling into a dresser. A hand goes to mouth, his jaw, rubbing it as he stares at her before quickly looking away. ] Saber, I--
[ His image flickers for a moment, but then solidifies. ]
....I... did not intend-- [ He's trying to explain himself, but he's having difficulty coming up with an explanation because he honestly has no idea what has happened for him to appear like this himself. ] This must be some sort of mistake.
[ Now is not the time to be feeling flustered, but he can't help but feel a warmth creep up the back of his neck as images come unbidden to him from just before, from when she had been beneath him. The hand that had been over his jaw moves to cover his eyes as if he's been struck with a devastating headache. ] Nevermind. I need--... I'll be outside.
[ NOPE, bad idea. He may have a human body but he doesn't look exactly normal compared to the rest of the population. ]
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And yet.
Maybe it's her imagination, but... the places his fingers brushed her skin still feel warm. She misses it almost immediately. ]
Be calm. There was no harm done.
[ She pushes herself upright now, seeming to be as unruffled as usual as she smooths her sleeping clothes and pushes her hair out of her eyes. She can't blame him for his embarrassment. To share a bed is a rite restricted to families or lovers, of which they are neither. ]
At least take a cloak with you, if you wish to leave for a while. A blind man could tell you aren't a local. [ Saber smiles at him; a small, bitter thing loaded with hidden meaning. ] I will join you shortly for breakfast once I have dressed.
[ No, she can't blame him for his panic. She doesn't much like her feminine side either.
It seems they both feel safer when she's got her insecurities defended by armour and her hair tied up, to better hide it all behind androgyny. ]
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He wants to say something, but he's not sure what. ]
...Hn. [ In the end, he can only nod and turn, letting her have her privacy. ] I'll wait outside.
[ Let's just say that there is an extra cloak conveniently hanging up for him to take, and he drapes it over himself with ease, opening the door and closing it behind him. He's not going to go to breakfast without her. He's going to stay right outside the door, arms crossed over his chest while trying to will himself to calm down further. He'd tell himself to breathe, but, even breathing is strange to him. ]
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She is absolutely adamant such a mistake will not happen again. ]
Apologies for keeping you waiting. [ Evidently she's compensating by being even more polite and proper than usual. Go figure. ] Shall we?
[ They even have the coin to pay for a more lavish meal to break their fast, courtesy of the previous tourney bouts! Bread, meat, ale, perhaps even some cheese or fruit depending on if the cook is feeling generous.
Mostly because if Jin hasn't eaten in years, it seems a shame to offer anything less than the best she can get her hands on. ]
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And, well, he's always been curious as to why she conceals her sex and femininity. He can understand the reason while in towns or in these tourneys, but even when they are alone? Now is not the time to discuss such matters or ask how she fares, or if he had insulted or dishonored her in some way he had failed to see. That, he will have to inquire about later.
Ah, but there's food before him, and it's actually decent food. He finds that he cannot resist eating after so long.... But first: ]
Saber... you don't need to do this. [ Ordering food for him as well. ]
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At Jin's voice she reluctantly abandons her scrutiny of her meal (honestly, to prevent herself from stuffing her face in the most unbecoming manner for a knight - she loves food, for all she denies it) to glance up at him instead. ]
Are we not partners? [ Perhaps one day, even friends. ] It is within my means to treat you to a meal after a long fast, and I shall do so gladly. Decadence becomes a danger only if it becomes habit.
[ And nobody who knows Saber even in passing can honestly say she leans towards excess. She is a poor study when it comes to the intricacies of emotion and expressing herself - so she makes do with little gestures instead, and in some ways she feels action is more genuine than words.
She nods once towards his trencher, still laden with food. ]
Come. Eat. Before it cools.
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[ And he'll be helping himself to it, with each subsequent serving done more enthusiastically than the last. It seems the man enjoys eating-- or rather, tasting and savoring the food. It's a humble meal, but one that he appreciates with every bite. He learns (recalls?) something new about himself: that he likes food, but not just for the sake of eating. It's the taste, the texture, the temperature of each mouthful that he stops to assess and think over how he could improve them. Jin wouldn't dare express how he believes the cheese could have stood to be aged longer or perhaps cultivated in a different way, or how the bread should have been be made with richer grain, not when this meal is clearly the best the innkeeper could make given their circumstances. But it does make him want for a little more...
Maybe one day he could cook something the both of them himself. ]
Heh, you're actually a generous person. [ CLEARLY she is even without giving him food to eat, what with going out of her way to protect the people of this country. But what he really means is-- ] Here I thought you'd be more practical. [ Like, letting him return to his sword so that she could save the coin for herself.
But hopefully he catches his lighter tone here, because he's actually-- gasp-- poking fun at her. ]
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Try as she might, though... Saber can't help but thaw a little at the prospect of good food - a rare treat for her that she plans to enjoy to its fullest extent. Or at least as long as she can restrain herself before her inner glutton gets the best of her.
spoilers she lasts like maybe two bitesIn the end she has no choice but to join Jin in the rapture that is foodies chowing down. The bread is still warm, and after letting a small pat of butter melt into the soft interior... good god. It's heaven. And the meat, so tender! And the fruit, so very fresh!!!!
Yeah, she's already got like half her trencher inhaled by the time Jin pokes fun at her. And to top it all off, Saber glances up at him with the kind of startled expression of a deer in headlights (and the stuffed cheeks of a chipmunk hoarding seeds for winter).
Just give her a moment to cough into her fist to clear her throat - half to get her thoughts in order, and half to hide the hurried chew-and-swallow as if she didn't completely lose her self-control a split second ago. ]
The miserly have few friends. I do not ascribe to the philosophy of hoarding any good fortune that lands in my lap.
[ The haughty tone is even more hysterical considering she's eyeing a chicken thigh on her trencher with the kind of ravenous greed better suited to a starving hyena, but I digress. ]
Once we have finished our meal, I will split our coin accordingly. What you choose to do with your share is at your discretion.
[ Shhhhh don't judge her okay. She's used to food with zero taste. ]
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I have no need for coin, Saber. [ He reminds her after another bite. What's he going to buy, anyway?
a damn combor maybe a necklace for her] This meal is... more than enough. [ He adds gratefully.And then, after noticing how she's eyeing the chicken thigh: ] You're holding back. [ But w h y...? He's seen her tackle down food like it's the apocalypse. Is it just because he's here? No need for manners gurl he's seen u nekkid. ]
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[ She's clearly not going to budge on that front. It's the freedom of choice that matters, and the ability for him to make his own decisions where/when to spend that coin. Maybe he'll want a new coat, or another meal, or who knows what else may catch his eye, providing he's able to maintain his human form.
Saber remembers what Addam told them. She will not allow either of them to go down the path of one half overpowering the other.
As for "holding back"... ]
I am enjoying my meal. [ She corrects him, although Saber immediately gives lie to her claim by tearing her eyes guiltily away and staring hard at her tankard of ale instead. SHE'S NOT A GLUTTON, PROMISE. ]
Besides, you're one to talk. How long has it been since you last ate in this form?
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She's totally deflecting with that question, and it's met with a smirk from him. ] I can't even remember the last time I ate. [ He says dryly because, duh he ain't got no memory of his past lives. ]
But you won't see me drooling. [ NOT THAT SHE IS LITERALLY. But figuratively, yeaaaah. ]
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Now Saber looks him squarely in the eyes, clearly offended. How dare you!!! ]
Your tableside manner leaves something to be desired. [ HUFF PUFF FITE HER, LOSER. But she relents, delicately picking apart the chicken thigh in a few neat bites until all that's left is bones.
Not because he told her to, though. Because SHE WANTS TO. B((((
And just because she can, Saber mutters under her breath while dusting crumbs off her lap: ]
Drooling indeed.