[which is when the stardust finally hits instead of hiding this away in my inbox!!
In this memory, you are a blade. You possess no hands to touch, no mouth to speak, no heart or knowledge of emotion. You are forged steel, beautiful for the crescent moon marks upon your metal, and already you are hundreds of years old.
You sit in a room among other countless treasures. In this era, you belong to Ashikaga Yoshiteru, who holds an impressive collection. All but one of the Five Greatest Swords Under Heaven are in this room with you - blades of renown if only for the meaning that humans have ascribed to you. But this room is cold, and you are never held. You are viewed, admired, and never touched.
‘How beautiful,’ guests say - always right before they leave.
Days pass. Months pass. Until one day, there is a disruption to your existence - cries of battle and the sound of clashing blades from outside. There has been an attack upon the castle, upon the shogun himself.
Ashikaga Yoshiteru, already bloody and weary, arrives in the room full of his beloved swords. He is attacked on multiple sides, but he puts up a great fight. He picks up sword after sword, once only decorative pieces but now answering what they were forged for. They break in the fight, their steel cracking and splintering. But it is fine - for there is always another sword, and another.
Until at least Yoshiteru reaches for you.
Your sheath slides off and your steel is bared. Light catches upon your crescents, and you see the way in which your shogun - your master, your lord - falters for just a moment. You are his treasure. You are his most beautiful blade. Will he stain you with blood? Will he break you too?
He falls to his knees, his own body breaking before he has a chance to shatter yours.
When he dies, you are in his hand. You feel the warmth of his palm fade.
You do not know emotion clearly - but you feel. You wanted to protect him. You wanted to be used. You wanted to find your purpose in the hand of another. You did not wish to wait anymore. You wish, and you want. You are never answered. ]
[this memory is a lot. it's - it's really a lot, and virgo is about to say something, but the stardust hasn't faded entirely, and they're launched into another memory.
"Good evening..."
You're a little distracted, as you enter the room and greet him, and he's able to tell immediately, you're sure - but he still greets you with that same small, warm smile you've come to know and love. His happiness and his affection are a bit slow to come even now, but it means so much to you when you catch little glimpses of it.
"Welcome back," he murmurs, dipping his head to you in greeting, and there's a short paused before he follows up with, "How was the market...?"
He really does know you so well. You smile, realizing there's no sense in trying to keep this to yourself because he sees everything, and try to figure out how to explain.
"The market itself was fine, but the ghosts were a little..." Your voice trails off. "...have you ever thought much about marriage?"
You know that the question has caught him by surprise, because he drops his brush and his cheeks flush a brilliant red. He's cute when he's flustered, you think, and you feel a little bad for flustering him, but it also warms your heart to know that such a simple question from you can have such an affect on him.
"...um. Why do you ask...?"
It's a fair question. You hadn't expected the topic to come up, either, but -
"Ah, well... the ghosts seem to the impression that you and I will be..." You find that you can't quite say it outright. It's something you haven't really allowed yourself to think about before now, because it is something you would dearly love to be real, but you don't want to pressure him into anything. "Well, they seem to think that is why I have stayed here so long." A pause, as you try to figure out what else to say, because it doesn't quite feel like enough. "I thought perhaps I should warn you, before you go out for your patrol..."
If they've brought it up to you, they'd likely bring it up to him, too. It's only fair to warn him.
He seems to agree, making a soft noise, and you think he's going to drop the topic. That's alright. You don't need to pursue this any further - you're at his side, so you're happy.
"Is..." You look up, and notice that his ears are red. "...is that something you'd want?"
"Yes!" The word is out before you can stop yourself. "—if you wanted it as well, I would want that very much. But I am also happy, just to be with you as we have been."
He huffs a little laugh, but turns his gaze away. You recognize this - sometimes, he gets overwhelmed. That's alright. You can wait for him - you will always wait for him. Even with his gaze turned away from you, though, you can see that there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"...to be honest, I had not thought of it." His hand is at his mouth, now, as if it can hide the way his cheeks are flushed, as if it can hide the way he's smiling. "...but... I am thinking about it now. I... I'd want to, too."
You feel your cheeks flush with delight, and you look up.
"Really?"
He meets your gaze, and you see that he's smiling.
"...really."
Your heart feels so full that it might burst, and you step closer to him - where he's seated at the low desk, paper and brush and ink in front of him, and you just - you hug him, sliding right into his lap. You can't help it. You're giddily, overwhelmingly happy, and you hold tight to him. He makes a soft noise that sounds like an off, but as ever, he seems to have anticipated your actions, because he's already scooted back to make space, and his arms come securely around you a moment later.
"Be careful of the inkstone," he murmurs, his face ducked into your shoulder, and you smile, because you know that even if you weren't careful, he'd pull you out of the way. You're content to stay there in his arms, but he breaks the silence after a few long moments. "...I'll ask you properly. Not - not just like this. I promise."
You smile, shifting a little to bury your face in the crook of his neck.
"I will be looking forward to it. And I will be sure to give you a proper answer, when you ask."
You feel him turn his head, and feel him press a soft kiss to the top of yours, before you hear him speak.
"Okay. ...okay." A pause, and something must occur to him, because he gives you a gentle squeeze as he makes a soft, amused noise. "...what was it she said. Five necklaces and an ornament...?"
You feel yourself blushing, even as you're amused by his teasing - because you're flattered, that he remembers that conversation in such detail. That he'd paid attention to your friend's insistence on what should be offered to you if anyone was to court you.
"You are worth more than that." It's important for you to say, you think. He has a tendency to think very, very little of himself even at the best of times, so you want to take every opportunity to remind him that he's worth all that and more. You shift your head up so that you can kiss his cheek. "That you have allowed me to be by your side is a far greater gift than anything else you could possibly have given me."
He looks away from you. This happens often, when he gets embarrassed, and you know to wait it out.
"I feel like I should be the one saying that to you." A pause, and then: "...even then, those suggestions were ridiculous."
You smile, and readjust to rest your head on his shoulder.
"Oh, I do not know, a goat might be cute..."
There is a beat of silence.
When he speaks again, his voice is a little muffled, his face pressed against your head.
"You are worth so, so much more than a goat."
You muffle a giggle against his shoulder, and without missing a beat, you respond -
"And you are worth much more than that, as well. More than fifty goats, or even a hundred. You are worth everything."
It's true. He's worth everything to you, and you don't feel any shame in admitting it. Why shouldn't you? He tries to protest it - or starts to, at least, but by now he probably knows that it's going to be a losing battle, and instead of saying anything, he puts his hand over the back of your head and mushes your face into his shoulder so you can't say anything else that might embarrass him.
Well, that's fine. Two can play at that game. You tug a little at his robes, bare a patch of skin, and press a soft kiss to it.
He makes a startled noise and lets go of your head. You take it as a victory, when his arm drops to settle around you again, and you listen to him chuckle with no small amount of satisfaction.
"...If you wanted a goat, I'd get you one. A hundred seems like an excessive amount, but if you wanted them, I'd find a way."
You smile up at him.
"I do not need any goats. All I need is you."
And with all your heart and soul, you mean it.
...virgo freezes, now. they're giving off "deer in the headlights" vibes despite the fact that mikazuki can't see their face.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guestservices) wrote2022-06-11 09:46 pm
no subject
As a blade, I was always meant for war, even if I did not often see it directly. But I know that my experience is only one.
no subject
{because they're
not answering
like an asshole.]
no subject
[a little disappointed]
Had I not asked politely enough...?
no subject
no subject
I had not meant to make you uncomfortable.
no subject
[grumble, grumble]
no subject
[which is when the stardust finally hits instead of hiding this away in my inbox!!
In this memory, you are a blade. You possess no hands to touch, no mouth to speak, no heart or knowledge of emotion. You are forged steel, beautiful for the crescent moon marks upon your metal, and already you are hundreds of years old.
You sit in a room among other countless treasures. In this era, you belong to Ashikaga Yoshiteru, who holds an impressive collection. All but one of the Five Greatest Swords Under Heaven are in this room with you - blades of renown if only for the meaning that humans have ascribed to you. But this room is cold, and you are never held. You are viewed, admired, and never touched.
‘How beautiful,’ guests say - always right before they leave.
Days pass. Months pass. Until one day, there is a disruption to your existence - cries of battle and the sound of clashing blades from outside. There has been an attack upon the castle, upon the shogun himself.
Ashikaga Yoshiteru, already bloody and weary, arrives in the room full of his beloved swords. He is attacked on multiple sides, but he puts up a great fight. He picks up sword after sword, once only decorative pieces but now answering what they were forged for. They break in the fight, their steel cracking and splintering. But it is fine - for there is always another sword, and another.
Until at least Yoshiteru reaches for you.
Your sheath slides off and your steel is bared. Light catches upon your crescents, and you see the way in which your shogun - your master, your lord - falters for just a moment. You are his treasure. You are his most beautiful blade. Will he stain you with blood? Will he break you too?
He falls to his knees, his own body breaking before he has a chance to shatter yours.
When he dies, you are in his hand. You feel the warmth of his palm fade.
You do not know emotion clearly - but you feel. You wanted to protect him. You wanted to be used. You wanted to find your purpose in the hand of another. You did not wish to wait anymore. You wish, and you want. You are never answered. ]
no subject
...virgo freezes, now. they're giving off "deer in the headlights" vibes despite the fact that mikazuki can't see their face.]
no subject
hm hm hmmmmmm.
the memory settles and mikazuki cants his head to the side, curious. thoughtful.]
... do let me know if I might expect an invitation. It should be a glorious ceremony.
no subject
[they
open up a shadow portal
to try to leave i'm sORRY]
no subject