elibe | voice testing!

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voice testing!

White

( It's a pretty normal day at the citadel until news breaks out that the saniwa has managed to summon a new spirit. Depending on who you've heard the news from, you may or may not have the name. Or maybe you've heard that the newcomer is supposed to be a beautiful sword dressed in white. Or that he's an imperial sword or some other vague but specific piece of information. Either way, it should be easy to find a new face here, right?

Just follow the sounds of one (1) distressed sounding Konnosuke and you'll see the newest addition to your rag tag sword army. He's picked up Konnosuke and has him on his back in front of him, rubbing at his belly. Konnosuke squirms to get free. )

A little fox! You remind me of someone. ( Konnosuke squirms in his hands, trying to get free. ("Tsurumaru-san, please, let me go! I'm a pipe fox spirit, not a common fox!" The new spirit laughs,). ) And you really talk! What a surprise!

( And he looks up to see you, who's arrived to crash his fun, )

Yo~ ( He'd salute in greeting but his hands are a little full, ) Are you surprised to see someone like me?

( SET KONNOSUKE FREE )

Gold

( Some time has passed since Tsurumaru Kuninaga arrived at the citadel and most people are used to his character by now. It's a cool fall day and you're out in the garden for whatever reason. Most of the trees are losing their leaves and can be found in collected piles here and there. There's one particularly large pile and when you walk past it... )

Waah!

( Tsurumaru jumps up, throwing the leaves in the air and at you. Standing straight, hands on his hips and still covered in ginkgo leaves, )

Ahahaha! Are you surprised?

( He's so proud. )

Red

( Returning from a mission, Tsurumaru laughs casually as the Konnosukes scurry towards the squad. The last mission had some unexpected turns and what was supposed to be an easy scouting mission turned into an unexpected battle. Even if they were able to handle themselves, they'd still come back with injuries.

As they run their scan on the returning touken danshi, Tsurumaru holds out his arms, revealing sleeves speckled with red. )

What do you think?

( He shows them off to someone nearby-- either a squad mate or a concerned passerby or some other sword that was sent to check on them. And he gives a little turn to show the rest of him, revealing more blood on the back and hood. Konnosuke chides him to stay still because he's disrupting the scan. )

It's too bad.

( The battle had been too short and easy. It wasn't enough to achieve his #aesthetic. )

A little more and I would really look like a crane.

( "Stay still!" Konnosuke snaps again. )

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( There's a click of the tongue when he takes his hand back and Tsurumaru sighs loudly (dramatically) as he instead settles to lean with his elbow on the table, the side of his face resting on his palm. His other hand rests on the table, letting his fingers tap once on the surface indignantly.

It isn't fun being in trouble. Waiting to be scolded is uneventfully long and he already doesn't like this. He's like a child beginning to sulk before a lecture and he tries to not look too bothered. )

It's dirty.

( And he hates that. But more than that, he knows he's crossed a line and is going to pay for it. Well, it was fun being spoiled while it lasted, being able to see how far he could push things. )

It doesn't suit you at all.

( It stands out more because it's on him. So yes, it does bother him. )

Doesn't it? Hahahahahaha!

[Is there really a need to scold him? It's not like Tsurumaru doesn't know that he crossed the line, so making him squirm in anticipation for a scolding that Mikazuki doesn't feel like giving because, well, how many times has he said the exact same things before, maybe that's punishment enough.

Maybe they can just continue their earlier conversation instead. Mikazuki is much more interested in that than in why Tsurumaru insists on coming home covered in his own blood or that of his comrades. It doesn't take a genius to understand that, after all. but what is an expression of? That's much more challenging.]

Why does it bother you to see it on me when you find it beautiful on yourself? Besides, you put it there yourself.

It's only beautiful when it's fresh. (When it's vibrant and red.) When it's like this... it's just dirty.

(Brown and flaking, no different from mud or dirt. As for putting it there himself... Well, Mikazuki hadn't minded getting it on him first.)

[And he still doesn't mind having it on him now.

But it's interesting to hear your take on this Tsurumaru. So it's only okay when it's red and dripping, not when it's faded to brown and flaking? It's only okay when whoever got cut still can feel the blood dripping out, when the blood is still warm and alive?

Mikazuki looks at the trace on his hand, then brings said hand to his mouth and starts licking it clean.

It's a strangely... animalistic thing, unlike the usually refined elegance he shows in everything. Almost jarringly so. Then again, most people who end up fighting alongisde him in battle do come out of the experience a little shaken, especially if they've only seen him around the citadel before.]

( There's only the smallest twitch in his hand that warns for the reaction that follows. Suddenly, he's reaching over the table, sitting up on his knees, bracing himself with one hand while the other one snatches at Mikazuki's. In the process, there's a clatter on the table, his cup spills over and he ignores it.

Right now, his eyes are focused on Mikazuki. Where there is usually a distantness and where there had been a coldness, his eyes meet Mikazuki's directly. Pale goldseems brighter and more vivid and there's something burning there-- that light he usually keeps guarded and covered, that flame that might burn him. As for his grip, it's firm and strong, the type of hold that won't let go easily. The only distance between them right now is the little that is literally, physically between them. )

Stop that.

( They're close. Closer than he wants to admit, closer than he really likes to be because it betrays a spirit under all of his masks. The spirit that wants to be close, that actually cares. A sensitive Tsurumaru Kuninaga that has been hurt enough and wants to be better if he won't be let to rest. )

Say what you want already.

( This long suspense, it's killing his heart slowly. )

[For a long moment, Mikazuki stares back. Then, he smiles. His free hand comes up, fingers threading through the white hair before cupping Tsurumaru's cheek. He moves to come closer, bumps their forehead together.

It can be hard work, making Tsurumaru come towards him. Most of the time, when one tries, the crane just dances away. The smiles and jokes give an illusion of closeness, but he is closed, guarded, cold, distant. Some people stop at that. Others know better, but they don't know how to get past the masks to the glimpses of the true heart they've seen under it.

Mikazuki Munechika is relentless, though. Maybe he has been around too long. Maybe this, at least, is something that he feels he can do for others. Espacially for the ones like Tsurumaru Kuninaga.]

Why do you keep trying to hide from me?

[Don't you know that it's useless, Tsurumaru? He has seen you without all those layers before. He knows what's inside.]

Are you scared of me?

[It wouldn't be unthinkable. Mikazuki is a congenial sword most of the time. He is genuinely nice to his fellow swords, and he does care, as Tsurumaru was quick to notice. He has spent too long in the company of men not to.

But he is also very, very old. Maybe more aware than some other of what he is. A blade, made to kill.]

It was your blood... Why is it so scary to you to see it on me? Why does it bother you so much?

( He doesn't move, nothing changes. His mask is dropped but he's still as guarded as ever. He meets Mikazuki's smile with a steeled expression and the only thing that betrays him is the way his grip on Mikazuki's hand tightens at his touch. Their foreheads touch and there's a slightest pullback. He isn't one to get close to others easily and he has his reasons for being like that. It's why he dances away, let's things slide off him like water off his back. )

Who's hiding?

( Despite everything, there's an edge to his voice, something cocky and challenging. He's still a proud spirit, after all. He's always in sight. He has no problem with letting others see him. It's the closeness that makes him step back. He won't hide but he'll always take steps away, dodge things, move out of range, remaining ever out of grasp when others reach, )

... Do you ever think of our master? ( Is he avoiding the question all together or answering it indirectly, ) Of course you do.

You must think of what could happen to him. Things are well now but who knows what surprises are ahead of him? Betrayed, cut down, without honor, losing all of his possessions, all of that care and attention you've invested... gone. You're old too, Mikazuki Munechika, so surely you know this could happen sooner than later. Even with this renowned army, with all of this strength, and power...

( He presses back against Mikazuki, )

Life is full of surprises.

( If he expects the worst, he won't be surprised. If he embraces them, he might even be pleased. )

[Ah. So this is what this is about. Mikazuki had an inkling, but it is always better to get confirmation from the source. As it stands, he's probably one of the few, one of the only ones who would ever be able to get this out of Tsurumaru.

Although, of course, when Tsurumaru asks him 'Do you ever think of our master?', he has to bite back his own reflexive answer.

'Which one?'

He's had so many masters, some of them are merely blurs in his memories. There are a few that stands out, for good or bad reasons. Some he remembers fondly, others that he is indifferent to, others yet that he doesn't even remember at all, beyond the knowledge that he belonged to them at one time.

He has watched so many things happened to his masters. The lucky ones died in their beds, many in battle, some others assassinated or from illness... he has seen up close every single thing that can befalls humans as they lose their lives. he is not jaded to him, simply, he is a sword and this does not concern him. He needs to protect his master for as long as said master needs him. Anything apart from that is not something he needs to bother himself with.

Well, that is what he tells himself while maneuvering in the shadows during missions so things get done one way or another. Aruji has many things to do and many swords to take care of, so if he can lighten their load, even just a little, he will be content enough. Until he dies, and the next master comes along and it starts all over again.]

Aruji is human, Tsurumaru Kuninaga. And humans die. There is nothing we can do about it.

[He can almost feel the tremors in Tsurumaru, that instinct to pull away even as he presses further. That need to guard himself even as he desperately craves the closeness.]

The truth is, you hate surprises, don't you, Tsurumaru? You would much rather spend a quiet life, each day the same as the one before, unchanging. But you can't have that. So you would rather create the surprises yourself, because at least ten, you know what they are. And they can't hurt you.

( Because he's human. It's the fact he expected Mikazuki to make because it's the fact Tsurumaru has also come to accept. Humans die. At best, they are blissfully fleeting but at worst, they're twisted and selfish, violent and full of lies. Even the children he regards with genuine warmth and interest will lose that light and goodness.

Another nail right on the head though he's quick to object all the same, )

Life is a nothing without surprises. ( He loves them. When something becomes a coping mechanism for centuries, it becomes a truth with time. But it's true. If he expects the surprises, he can't be unpleasantly surprised. If he embraces tragedy as a surprise, it hurts less. ) If everything is the same, the heart wastes away.

( This is his truth now. )

I don't have to make all of my surprises either. For example... ( His fingers trace the stain on Mikazuki's hand, ) Imagine my surprise the first time I bled like this.

( The thrill he felt seeing that color coming from him and all of the possibilities it painted. Experiencing pain with this new body. Brought down closer to the humans he'd kept away for so long. )

We're swords but when our master gave us these bodies, we became a little more human.

( That die. That can't be repaired. That are fleeting.

And that's scary. Seeing his friends covered in blood, the spirits he thought that would never leave him suddenly a little more mortal... Getting hurt himself, being told he could break, this freedom that comes at a price they can now pay with their own hands... )

Yes, we did.

[They became a bit more human able to experience so many things for the first time. Even for one as old as Mikazuki it was eye-opening. A time of many firsts, and he did enjoy it when it happened. Discovering taste, touch,...

But not feelings. They are blades, yes, but they are more than that. Tsukumogami, a soul born from the passion of the men who used them. So feelings is something they know well. All sorts of feeling. Love, hate, fear, affection, sadness...

But here in these new bodies those feelings translate to something different. Eyes widen, cheeks blush, hearts start beating faster, stomachs give funny little twists...]

There is something about human bodies, though. They are warm.

[And even the crane sword, in all his icy whiteness, has become warm alongside them. Although Mikazuki probably shouldn't criticize his appearance. His own white skin and dark hair and the shimmering dark blue silk he normally wears make him appear very much like the cold moon in the night sky.

But Mikazuki never pretends to be cold. He definitely does not show all of his cards, and it can be hard to get him to admit to anything straight, but Tsurumaru is right. He cares. And he cares enough to do certain things that others would balk at.

Like making Tsurumaru as supremely uncomfortable as he can just so he can hear some true words come out of his mouth.]

And thanks to that body, I can touch you like this. And I can feel how warm you are. I have always known you were, but now I can feel it.

And you can feel it in others too. Do not shy away from them.

Do not run away from me. Please.

( Warm? Even Tsurumaru Kuninaga can be warm? He would smile and laugh if someone had told him this earlier, if anyone else had told him this now. But as it is, it's Mikazuki and so Tsurumaru is quiet, letting him say his words. Warmth isn't something he'd really consider himself. He's Tsurumaru Kuninaga, made from cold steel, white like the snow, named after wintering birds. Tsurumaru Kuninaga is cold.

He frowns at Mikazuki, eyes watching him with quiet sadness before letting go and moving away. Getting up onto his feet, he crosses the tatami, heading towards the door wordlessly. He stops just short of the doors, touching the side of his face for a moment as if bracing himself to go back out into the world beyond this room. He has to make sure his mask is on, after all.

But he isn't gone for very long because in a minute or two, he's back with a towel so he can clean the mess he'd made earlier when his tea spilled. Some of it has already soaked into the tatami by now but it's better than leaving it all together. When he's finished, he holds out his hand to Mikazuki, )

Give me your hand.

[Mikazuki doesn't stop him from leaving, and doesn't look - outwardly - surprised to see him coming back. The truth is, Tsurumaru Kuninaga does surprise him more than he is probably aware of, but not on purpose. Not with the practical jokes or attempts at jump scares.

No, on some day, his very existence is enough.

This time he doesn't protest and holds out his hand when asked. He will allow himself to be cleaned, restored to unflawed beauty for now.

And when the previously spilled cup is righted, he will pointedly pour some more tea in it.]

Can you at least try to be more careful for Aruji's sake if not for mine?

( It isn't much and it cleans off easily with how damp the towel is. Setting the towel aside, he's quiet as Mikazuki carries on as usual. He watches the tea pour or rather, he watches Mikazuki's hands and he looks away, into the garden. It's getting later, the others are beginning to settle for the evening.

Will he be more careful? He considers it and he leans against Mikazuki. He's an old spirit, a lot more tired than he lets on. He doesn't answer directly, instead, humming thoughtfully. The right answer is easy enough to say but he won't make fleeting promises. )

... I'll consider it.

( A begrudging promise but only because Mikazuki asked. To make that point, he'll reach to take Mikazuki's hand too, fingers light like feathers, touch cold but warm. )

[Mikazuki twines their fingers together, and his other arm goes to loop around Tsurumaru's waist, holding him closer against his side. Warm, in spite of what Tsurumaru can think of himself.

This is likely the best - the only - answer he is going to get, so he smiles when he hears it. It's better than a flippant joke or a pirouette.]

Thank you.

[And he kisses the top of Tsurumaru's head, nuzzling the soft white hair.]

Edited 2018-11-03 13:35 (UTC)

( He'll let himself be pulled closer and let's himself be held. This is quiet and uneventful and honestly, it's pretty boring... but he doesn't hate it. It's like Mikazuki said. He'd rather have a quiet life where things are the same, where he can rest and enjoy his time with others in peace. But admitting that out loud is just inviting misfortune. So he stays quiet, taking in the moment for what it is.

There's a kiss on his crown and he feels a little warmer, turning his head, burying it against MIkazuki. )

[Mikazuki's hand lets go of Tsurumaru's, goes to his chin again to make him raise his head... and then, there is touch of lips against lips, an almost feather-like kiss.

And Mikazuki's thumb stroking a cheek he can feel becoming warmer under his touch.]

I do sometimes prefer that kind of red on you.

( He's definitely a shade of red when Mikazuki pulls away, warm and light and he makes a face, something like a frown but not completely displeased. It's like someone trying to look unhappy, like someone intent on looking upset with a frown even if his eyes look bright.

Swatting at Mikazuki's hand, he covers his face with his hand and grumbles. )

That's enough.

( Stop teasing him? He has a cool and beautiful reputation to uphold, you know. He's taken enough today. )

Hahahahahahahaha!

[The warm laugh echoes is the darkening room as evening falls.]

It's alright. There's only me and you here.

( He has an image, Mikazuki. Don't doxx him more than you already have.

If they hadn't just gone through such an exhausting dance with their earlier conversations, he'd be more reciprocating. It's hard to bounce back after being put on the spot and called out like he was, okay! It's frustrating how naturally Mikazuki can flit away from conversation to moment. Even Tsurumaru Kuninaga, who is also skilled at maneuvering conversation, dancing around difficult questions, has to admire that in Mikazuki, )

Just like old times, right?

( Not that he's complaining. He likes it, actually. He might even prefer the past a little more than the present-- at least back then, he'd had a little more hope. It's interesting how being around Mikazuki can bring back some of that old feeling to surface.

He shifts, leaning close to brush Mikazuki's cheek with a kiss as he rises back onto his feet, still holding his hand. )

The others should be finished with their repairs by now. ( The others who were hurt on their mission. ) They could use some surprises, don't you think?

( Their moods are probably just as rotten as his was after how things went. He'll have to cheer them up.

(Don't say he doesn't care about others; he cares more than he really wants to admit). )

[Mikazuki lets Tsurumaru get up, although he doesn't let go fo that hand just yet.]

You want to go be with them for a while, don't you?

[An understandable feeling, given what happened. Even if Tsurumaru has to disguise it as waiting to go and surprise or prank them. Mikazuki can understand that. When you are in a squad together, it creates bonds, especially if you go out together often enough.]

Go. I'll be fine. You can come back later.

[There is no doubt in his voice that Tsurumaru somehow will come back. He knows he has pressed on a few sore points today and he wouldn't blame the crane sword for needing a bit more reassurance, even if that is only through being in the same room as Mikazuki for a while. He'll welcome whatever it is when it happens, as usual.]

We wouldn't want them to worry, would we?

( What if they see all of their comrades except Tsurumaru! They might think his condition is worst than he really was and too many spirits in this citadel are too good to not feel responsible for others. The sooner things return to normal, the sooner everyone's spirits will recover.

There's something like a hum from Tsurumaru. Thoughtful? Amused? A little of both?

He can come back later. Because both of them have been around long enough and neither is going anywhere. Thoughts he keeps to himself because having his words turned on him would mean having to admit more than he wants to acknowledge out loud. )

You'll wait here? You don't have to wait in empty rooms anymore, Mikazuki. ( Thumb sliding across Mikazuki's hand lightly, the smallest squeeze-- little gestures that are only possible because he's human now. It really betrays how soft he is without his edge but if it's Mikazuki, he doesn't mind revealing that just a little. He already knows so there isn't much point in hiding everything. He let's his fingers slip away, ) I'll come find you.

( The way he comes for everyone now that he has a form to carry out his will. But for now! He has friends to tend to, some spirits to lift and put to rest. But he'll certainly come back for Mikazuki the way he always does. )

Oh no. Not here. I'm an old man, you know. I will be going to my room to sleep.

[His room where there's a good chance at least a few other Sanjou swords will be around at first, before he actually turns in. Thankfully, he does not have to be alone here anymore, even if his status and age do single him out at times.

He lets Tsurumaru slip away and finishes his tea before he does exactly what he said and turns in. A few minutes of conversation with Kogitsunemaru, checking that Iwatooshi and Imanotsurugi are going to bed, then, making himself comfortable in a yukata and dimming the lights before slipping into his futon.

Through the cracks in the fusuma, he can see the crescent moon in the sky.]

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