Tsurumaru is in the garden. It seems like a pretty safe place to avoid running into glass shards but while picking through some of the flowers, his finger hits a stone that isn't a stone--
You're covered in bandages that have been quickly applied to you. Your body is sore and you're absolutely exhausted. You lie down on the tatami next to a Shinto priestess. Her face is covered by a veil and she carries a sword in her hands.
You shift your attention to look up at her as if she's speaking and let out a shaky laugh. You watch as she sets the sword down on the ground in front of her. The blade is dull, covered in dried blood, and obviously scratched. She takes out a cloth, wets it, and begins to wipe at the blood gently. As she polishes the blade, there's something not natural about how her tools seem to erase the scratches and repair any damage to the blade as if by magic.
Your hand reaches out to her, touching a corner of her robe gently. The scratches on your arm begin to fade. The dried blood turns to dust that blows away in a curious breeze. Even the threads of your robe begin to mend themselves, the dirt and blood fading to nothing, the cuts and tears becoming whole once more. As she takes care of your sword, you feel better, and you begin to fall asleep.)
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week 2, day pending
Tsurumaru is in the garden. It seems like a pretty safe place to avoid running into glass shards but while picking through some of the flowers, his finger hits a stone that isn't a stone--
Firstly, there's music.
You're covered in bandages that have been quickly applied to you. Your body is sore and you're absolutely exhausted. You lie down on the tatami next to a Shinto priestess. Her face is covered by a veil and she carries a sword in her hands.
You shift your attention to look up at her as if she's speaking and let out a shaky laugh. You watch as she sets the sword down on the ground in front of her. The blade is dull, covered in dried blood, and obviously scratched. She takes out a cloth, wets it, and begins to wipe at the blood gently. As she polishes the blade, there's something not natural about how her tools seem to erase the scratches and repair any damage to the blade as if by magic.
Your hand reaches out to her, touching a corner of her robe gently. The scratches on your arm begin to fade. The dried blood turns to dust that blows away in a curious breeze. Even the threads of your robe begin to mend themselves, the dirt and blood fading to nothing, the cuts and tears becoming whole once more. As she takes care of your sword, you feel better, and you begin to fall asleep.)
no subject
Rex just kind of. stands there. having been caught in this memory. He blinks a few times, confused, before eventually... ]
Uhhh...what was that all about?
no subject
no subject
[ although yeah, the music was weird too ]