( OPEN )

[swordsitter]

Who: swordhaus + cr
When: throughout april
Where: the three apartments swordhaus uses..
What: april catch-all
Rating/Warning: probably nothing, but i'll edit as necessary.

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[ sword mafia at home. ]

Comments

so many impure swords........

[swordsitter]

[ his lips part, then shut again. he doesn't.. think he's dying? he's been sick before-- he's sick a couple of times a year. but then, he's rarely been this sick, and it is kind of alarming. what will happen to his spirits if he does die? he thinks he put enough into bringing them to life that they'd be okay physically, but..

and he knows many of them worry. after all, it's hard for them, outliving their masters, being passed to new ones. and in such uncertain circumstances like this.. well.

he flushes, not entirely fever, as tsurumaru drapes the jacket over his shoulders, slowly sinking back down onto the couch. skinny fingers lift, clutching the edges of white fabric, heart clenching painfully in his chest at the display from one of his most aloof spirits. for a moment, his eyes are hot, vision blurring-- but he blinks away any hint of moisture, bobbing a tiny nod. ]

.. I won't die. [ it's a quiet declaration, but there's some force in it, too. ] I-- [ a shaky breath, pale eyes lifting to meet tsurumaru's briefly, then flitting away again. ] Okay. You don't have to, though.

[gravesite]

[ that declaration is what stops tsurumaru in his tracks; and it's the resolve behind the words that catches him — amusedly, he turns towards haru, leaning his weight back. for someone as human as haru to say that... while tsurumaru finds it completely amusing, it's not something that he's willing to believe, so he merely offers haru a small smile and a few words, before continuing to the kitchen. ]

It's the most that I can do.

[ he doesn't have the room in his heart to fret and fuss and worry over haru in the way that the rest of the swords do; although, that isn't haru's fault. it's more so tsurumaru's, who sees trust as a distant luxury that he can't afford any time soon.

anyway, he yanks the carton of milk from the fridge, along with a small hot chocolate powder packet from a drawer. the milk is poured into a cup, microwaved a bit, and then the powder is dumped in; stiiiiiiir a bit, and then — he'll return in five minutes or so, handing haru the cup of hot cocoa, precautioning it with a careful, it's hot.

he waits a bit — pausing deliberately, before he speaks up again. ]

If something bad happens to you, the other swords would be really upset, you know? We've all seen our masters die, at some point — but for some swords, they've only been through it once, and I'd like to keep it that way.