[If anyone here knows what it feels like to be coveted, treasured, admired, passed from hand to hand, indeed, that would be Mikazuki Munechika. The masterpiece of Sanjou Munechika, the most beautiful sword, a Tenka Goken, owned by all of the great rulers of the land from the Ashikaga shouguns all the way to the last Tokugawa.
So treasured that until he was summoned here, he was shut into a secure box in the dark, only let out a few days at a time every few years for special viewings and exhibitions.
The dark is a comfortable place, he is used to it. But being alone.... he's had enough of that for a long time.
So he surrounds himself with his fellow swords, seeks them out, nurtures them, encourages them in his own, underhanded, cagey ways.
And he can't help but see a slightly distorted mirror when he looks at the white crane.
He doesn't protest or push back when Tsurumaru removes - escapes? - his gentle hold. But he doesn't love from where he's standing either. Close. Too close.]
Are you afraid of hurting me? Or are you scared I might hurt you?
no subject
So treasured that until he was summoned here, he was shut into a secure box in the dark, only let out a few days at a time every few years for special viewings and exhibitions.
The dark is a comfortable place, he is used to it. But being alone.... he's had enough of that for a long time.
So he surrounds himself with his fellow swords, seeks them out, nurtures them, encourages them in his own, underhanded, cagey ways.
And he can't help but see a slightly distorted mirror when he looks at the white crane.
He doesn't protest or push back when Tsurumaru removes - escapes? - his gentle hold. But he doesn't love from where he's standing either. Close. Too close.]
Are you afraid of hurting me? Or are you scared I might hurt you?