[If Tsurumaru doesn't want to move yet and he can't get him to move - a tachi is bigger and stronger than an uchigatana, after all - then... Well. He mutters something indecipherable and snappish, keeps hold of that hand, and kneels down in front of him. His expression and posture are both pulled tight like the string of a bow, and his words whip out:]
I wouldn't kill you like that, if I was trying. [...And then he's pulling strips out of his pocket (strips of his sleeves, though the damage to his shirt can't be seen with his jacket covering it) so he can start to bind the worst of the cuts.] At least hold still.
[With how listless Tsurumaru is, he doesn't imagine that will be a tall order.
If he's allowed to work, he'll do it in silence, because there are a lot of things he wants to say to that and a lot of things that he can't or won't. This is something he also doesn't get, after all, and it's not a matter of unfamiliarity or lack of experience like before. People who pine to join lost loved ones so badly that they actively turn down life as it is... He doesn't understand it at all. He's spent his existence from his forge day to the latest battles surrounded by death - that bruisemark of kegare - and he keeps returning to it, no matter how many pretty flowers he braids into his hair or how immaculate his nail polish is or how strong he gets or how sure the hands that wield him are. To him, that place has nothing good.
Still, he's out of his depth here. He only talks to Tsurumaru in passing; they're comrades, but not close. He doesn't really know his story, and he's feeling that gap more acutely now than ever. ...But he has to ask.]
...What do you think is waiting for you over there?
ugh when will they get a better snacking experience
I wouldn't kill you like that, if I was trying. [...And then he's pulling strips out of his pocket (strips of his sleeves, though the damage to his shirt can't be seen with his jacket covering it) so he can start to bind the worst of the cuts.] At least hold still.
[With how listless Tsurumaru is, he doesn't imagine that will be a tall order.
If he's allowed to work, he'll do it in silence, because there are a lot of things he wants to say to that and a lot of things that he can't or won't. This is something he also doesn't get, after all, and it's not a matter of unfamiliarity or lack of experience like before. People who pine to join lost loved ones so badly that they actively turn down life as it is... He doesn't understand it at all. He's spent his existence from his forge day to the latest battles surrounded by death - that bruisemark of kegare - and he keeps returning to it, no matter how many pretty flowers he braids into his hair or how immaculate his nail polish is or how strong he gets or how sure the hands that wield him are. To him, that place has nothing good.
Still, he's out of his depth here. He only talks to Tsurumaru in passing; they're comrades, but not close. He doesn't really know his story, and he's feeling that gap more acutely now than ever. ...But he has to ask.]
...What do you think is waiting for you over there?
[On the other shore of death.]