(Metal strikes metal and the honed edge of his blade begins to cut. It's forced, it's jagged, it isn't clean, and he would be lying if he said it didn't put his entire being on edge. It isn't like cutting through flesh, its cold and leaves him wanting more but still, he applies pressure. He knows he has this Outsider now and he won't let him go easily. He'll take his arm, disarm him, tear him down piece by piece...
Until he speaks. Without thinking, he speaks quietly,)
Master...?
(He looks up at Aki and for just a moment, there's a flicker of something.
Grief. Love. How can he feel both? He doesn't understand himself and it's so easy
to listen
when he speaks so certainly. So clearly. Like a blade cutting through a leaf.
A master to love. A master he can never forget. (He caņ̸͖͗'t rę̷̳̣̝̃͝m̶͉̒em̸b̸e̶r.)
Someone who loves surprises. Who loves surprising others. (He hates this. He hates this.)
Someone who has lived for so long. (Too long, too long.)
Passed down through so many hands. (He can't re̷m̵͈͕̻̖̥̩͙̙̣͐̀e̶mber.)
Someone who could never forget but—)
I don't remember.
(He hisses and tries to pull his sword back but by now, it's deep enough it's become caught. Growling, )
A sword can't love.
(He can't. This feeling he feels. It's too miserable. If it was love, wouldn't he be happier?)
no subject
Until he speaks. Without thinking, he speaks quietly,)
Master...?
(He looks up at Aki and for just a moment, there's a flicker of something.
Grief. Love. How can he feel both? He doesn't understand himself and it's so easy
to listen
when he speaks so certainly. So clearly. Like a blade cutting through a leaf.
A master to love. A master he can never forget. (He caņ̸͖͗'t rę̷̳̣̝̃͝m̶͉̒em̸b̸e̶r.)
Someone who loves surprises. Who loves surprising others. (He hates this. He hates this.)
Someone who has lived for so long. (Too long, too long.)
Passed down through so many hands. (He can't re̷m̵͈͕̻̖̥̩͙̙̣͐̀e̶mber.)
Someone who could never forget but—)
I don't remember.
(He hisses and tries to pull his sword back but by now, it's deep enough it's become caught. Growling, )
A sword can't love.
(He can't. This feeling he feels. It's too miserable. If it was love, wouldn't he be happier?)