the words make ookurikara go comepletely still, eyes widening just a fraction before he recovers, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. the seasoning of the vegetables, however tasteful, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, as he imagines how gohei would rave about the flavor with all the excitement of a country man presented with a feast for the shogun.
he thought he'd escaped this conversation when lutha first disappeared from teyvat - not that he'd expected lutha to have experienced one of his own memories in return, but it's hardly surprising. still, of all the things, why was it...
he closes his eyes with a soft sigh of resignation. instead of addressing gohei, however, he dances around the subject. maybe, if he doesn't acknowledge it, he won't have to remember the pain. ]
Hard to do when I can't ever fucking find you. [There's little bite to the remark, surprisingly, far more a discontent grumbling of a child.
...
A beat. Lutha twists the skewer in his hand idly, focusing his eyes on that rather than on Kara.]
Here I figured you were just some... snooty rude vassal or something. You don't bother to talk, and you don't bother to be where you don't want to be. [A shrug, half hearted.] Not like it matters. It's fine. People can care about whatever they want.
But people also tend to change. You don't. [The ebb of time passing had been almost nauseous, to watch a boy become a man, a farmer to a soldier, and feel no change in one's self.
...]
Decades of life, and you still look like you're barely any older than me.
[ it is a relief, in a way, that the first question isn't about gohei. it's easier to address his nature than the feelings ookurikara still isn't certain that he understands, or the pain that dwells in a too-human heart. these are facts, even with low-impact barbs peppered in. they don't bother ookurikara, of course; he's never been one to care for someone else's opinion. the important thing is... whatever lutha has seen from his memories, it was enough to give him away.
what is he? out of habit, his free hand rests on the hilt of his sword as he mulls over how to answer. if he were any other sword, it would be a simple "older than i look," echoing their first conversation... but unfortunately kara has no sense of humor. while the other swords had a point in that knowing their nature likely wouldn't affect anything important in this world, it is still ingrained in him to sidestep this one truth. ]
Not human, [ is the answer he eventually settles for, confirming the obvious. he still isn't certain about revealing everything - the fact remains that he is not that familiar with lutha, so why should he? - but he can touch upon it. maybe that will be enough to satisfy the curiosity. and so, he continues, voice as plain and matter of fact as ever. ] I'm a spirit.
[ just him. not tsurumaru. it isn't his place to give away tsuru's secrets, too. ]
[It's a dry retort... that honestly lacks surprise, his features actually settling to something a little more comfortable. A spirit would make sense, after all, it was just a matter of what KIND of spirit was standing in front of him.]
Spirits don't usually have to answer to anyone, and they definitely don't manage physical forms without some damn work. So was that whole story about your master made up?
[ there's no heat behind it. he twists the skewer in his hand, idly wondering how masamune would like this foreign food, for all he'd wanted to travel the world. what he think, if he knew the sword his family would treasure has traveled to a new world entirely?
ookurikara has no intention of defending himself or his past words. there would be no point to it, when he has nothing to prove.
still. ]
I have always had a master. This form is how the current one summoned me, that's all.
You carry a sword well enough. It's not like you look entirely uncomfortable.
[How he feels, though, is another question, given what little Lutha remembers from the memory, and he is so not ready to have that conversation just yet.
Just two grumps eating food by a harbor, nothing to see here.]
[ that's a relatively small matter, though, as far as ookurikara is concerned. now that he has this body, he has the freedom to make his own choices in how he is used, how he acts, and that is worth far more than whatever face comes with it. ]
This is the form I was summoned with, and it's the one I'll have until the war ends or until I break. As long as I can complete my missions, it doesn't matter what I look like.
[ which... explains pretty much nothing, huh. i hate kara. ]
["Break" sure is a dramatic word. But it doesn't ring all that out of place. Ookurikara does come across as the type to just go on unwaveringly until he either finished or dropped down dead, anyway.
[ oh, that name stings. just hearing it, knowing what that young man had gone through... remembering who had been at his side for years, and kept him going... there's a pain his chest that ookurikara dutifully tries to ignore.
(it's much harder than he wishes it would be, even now, decades later. even the small comfort that nobuyasu lives doesn't ease that discomfort.)
and yet, his voice remains steady, if a little tired. ]
Our mission is to protect history. Matsudaira Nobuyasu is a notable person in the history of our country, so he became a part of that mission.
It strikes a bit ironic, given the situation they're now under with Forneus. But more importantly, something doesn't add up if that's all there is to it.
History was a larger picture, after all. A single person, though? A child wanting to take up the sword surrounded by strangers? A poor man begging to learn despite his own fear?
A dead man under a stone too early, what should just be a nameless smudge amongst thousands?
...]
Why would you bother protecting something that's already happened? Important or not, history is just what it is. You can't really change it.
[ why do you think he hates forneus so much lmao ]
History is fluid in my world, and there are those who actively seek to change it. My job is to prevent it, or to at least follow it closely enough that the timeline won't fray.
[ choice... as much as ookurikara would like to agree with lutha, there's been hardly a moment where he's stopped thinking about the things forneus had said. the god's insistence that they had, in fact, agreed to help him change this world to suit his own desires, against everything the touken danshi stand for. it brings a familiar anger to a boil in the pit of his stomach, twisting and wrestling with uncertainty and confusion and a simple desire to fulfill his mission.
he takes a long, slow breath, and pushes those feelings away. a festival is the wrong place for this. masamune, mitsutada, sadamune, tsurumaru - they would all say that they should simply enjoy the night. ]
Changing history rarely goes the way they want it to, [ is what he says instead, as a musician begins to pluck at the strings again. the plan forneus had outlined is reckless as best - at worst, it could have implications for all of their worlds, and all of their timelines. ] There's no point in getting broken for something like that.
[ a mission you don't even support. it's too risky, and for no worthy reward, as far as he can tell. ]
"Breaking" is a strong way to put it, but... It's not even that it ends at that. A lot of people end up suffering even if people like us get lost.
[It feels like too simple a point to repeat. But he has his own beef with Forneus' plan, one that digs at the idealistic wishes he knows are probably not obtainable in his own land.
Maybe, at least, they could not repeat it here.
He lets the music start to settle in the air, observing what was left of the food in his hand, of the color still vibrant from the surroundings that coated everything with warmth.]
My land completely changed when a god was killed. It was a long time ago, and maybe nothing as drastic as time or anything. But a god is a god, and it was still just as big a part of how the world works. If you mess with that...
[...
He sniffs with a clearing of his throat.]
A lot of history was lost, and what was left was hidden or rewritten, or just weakened as older generations started dying out. There's an entire world out there that's disintegrating underneath the water, and a whole lot of life being lost, because some mortal power decided to mess with something outside of their control.
[A beat, before he takes a second to shove his collar up against his neck and face.]
I'd rather not see us doing something idiotic like that to a place like this. No matter what Forneus says or thinks.
[ but enough about that. with another bite of the fish skewer leaving a blast of flavorful spice on his tongue, he listens in silence, soaking up lutha's words without a trace of judgment.
it explains much about how lutha acts, and the things he says, if not everything. ookurikara cannot and will not pretend to be an empathetic sword, but this is something he thinks he can understand. he'd seen some of it for himself, after all - and so his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if that could protect them both from the memory of how that water ate away at his steel, found its way into his carving and imperfections and utterly ruined him. it is a lifeline, a reminder that he is, still, whole.
other than that, his expression and posture don't change. ]
This world isn't the same as either of ours. Gods have been lost here, and the people survive all the same.
[ it's not an argument for or against either side - just a fact. kara obviously has his own opinion, rooted in how his own world functions. knowing, however, doesn't erase the discomfort that comes with going against his purpose as a touken danshi. ]
Still, even the most masterful tactician's plans can fall apart with a stroke of luck for the wrong side. I have no intention of finding out how badly that would turn out here.
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no subject
the words make ookurikara go comepletely still, eyes widening just a fraction before he recovers, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. the seasoning of the vegetables, however tasteful, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, as he imagines how gohei would rave about the flavor with all the excitement of a country man presented with a feast for the shogun.
he thought he'd escaped this conversation when lutha first disappeared from teyvat - not that he'd expected lutha to have experienced one of his own memories in return, but it's hardly surprising. still, of all the things, why was it...
he closes his eyes with a soft sigh of resignation. instead of addressing gohei, however, he dances around the subject. maybe, if he doesn't acknowledge it, he won't have to remember the pain. ]
If you have something to ask, then ask.
no subject
...
A beat. Lutha twists the skewer in his hand idly, focusing his eyes on that rather than on Kara.]
Here I figured you were just some... snooty rude vassal or something. You don't bother to talk, and you don't bother to be where you don't want to be. [A shrug, half hearted.] Not like it matters. It's fine. People can care about whatever they want.
But people also tend to change. You don't. [The ebb of time passing had been almost nauseous, to watch a boy become a man, a farmer to a soldier, and feel no change in one's self.
...]
Decades of life, and you still look like you're barely any older than me.
So what the hell are you?
no subject
what is he? out of habit, his free hand rests on the hilt of his sword as he mulls over how to answer. if he were any other sword, it would be a simple "older than i look," echoing their first conversation... but unfortunately kara has no sense of humor. while the other swords had a point in that knowing their nature likely wouldn't affect anything important in this world, it is still ingrained in him to sidestep this one truth. ]
Not human, [ is the answer he eventually settles for, confirming the obvious. he still isn't certain about revealing everything - the fact remains that he is not that familiar with lutha, so why should he? - but he can touch upon it. maybe that will be enough to satisfy the curiosity. and so, he continues, voice as plain and matter of fact as ever. ] I'm a spirit.
[ just him. not tsurumaru. it isn't his place to give away tsuru's secrets, too. ]
no subject
[It's a dry retort... that honestly lacks surprise, his features actually settling to something a little more comfortable. A spirit would make sense, after all, it was just a matter of what KIND of spirit was standing in front of him.]
Spirits don't usually have to answer to anyone, and they definitely don't manage physical forms without some damn work. So was that whole story about your master made up?
no subject
[ there's no heat behind it. he twists the skewer in his hand, idly wondering how masamune would like this foreign food, for all he'd wanted to travel the world. what he think, if he knew the sword his family would treasure has traveled to a new world entirely?
ookurikara has no intention of defending himself or his past words. there would be no point to it, when he has nothing to prove.
still. ]
I have always had a master. This form is how the current one summoned me, that's all.
no subject
[Fair enough, given that most spirits are barely corporeal to begin with, but...]
Why bother keeping that form if your master isn't even here?
no subject
It isn't like I have control over it.
[ and he's back to nibbling on the food, with the slightest furrow of his brow. ]
no subject
You carry a sword well enough. It's not like you look entirely uncomfortable.
[How he feels, though, is another question, given what little Lutha remembers from the memory, and he is so not ready to have that conversation just yet.
Just two grumps eating food by a harbor, nothing to see here.]
no subject
[ that's a relatively small matter, though, as far as ookurikara is concerned. now that he has this body, he has the freedom to make his own choices in how he is used, how he acts, and that is worth far more than whatever face comes with it. ]
This is the form I was summoned with, and it's the one I'll have until the war ends or until I break. As long as I can complete my missions, it doesn't matter what I look like.
[ which... explains pretty much nothing, huh. i hate kara. ]
no subject
...
Strangely, he hesitates.]
What does that make Nobuyasu, then?
Some sort of mission? Or just a part of your war?
no subject
(it's much harder than he wishes it would be, even now, decades later. even the small comfort that nobuyasu lives doesn't ease that discomfort.)
and yet, his voice remains steady, if a little tired. ]
Our mission is to protect history. Matsudaira Nobuyasu is a notable person in the history of our country, so he became a part of that mission.
[ he won't admit to more than that. he can't. ]
no subject
Hmn.
It strikes a bit ironic, given the situation they're now under with Forneus. But more importantly, something doesn't add up if that's all there is to it.
History was a larger picture, after all. A single person, though? A child wanting to take up the sword surrounded by strangers? A poor man begging to learn despite his own fear?
A dead man under a stone too early, what should just be a nameless smudge amongst thousands?
...]
Why would you bother protecting something that's already happened? Important or not, history is just what it is. You can't really change it.
no subject
History is fluid in my world, and there are those who actively seek to change it. My job is to prevent it, or to at least follow it closely enough that the timeline won't fray.
no subject
I'd take it that you'd rather see people like our gracious time host dunked into the ocean, if that's the case.
[he can't help himself he is not fond of forneus either]
no subject
I see no reason to help someone like him.
[ ...that's a yes, of course. ]
no subject
congrats??]
Can't really say we were given much of a choice to begin with, so I figured.
[He carefully plucks off another piece of his skewer, a vegetable, very delicately taking it apart bite by bite as though it's a fragile delicacy.]
Gods like him are too dangerous. Both to have around, and for the damn vacuum they leave behind if they die. No one wins.
no subject
he takes a long, slow breath, and pushes those feelings away. a festival is the wrong place for this. masamune, mitsutada, sadamune, tsurumaru - they would all say that they should simply enjoy the night. ]
Changing history rarely goes the way they want it to, [ is what he says instead, as a musician begins to pluck at the strings again. the plan forneus had outlined is reckless as best - at worst, it could have implications for all of their worlds, and all of their timelines. ] There's no point in getting broken for something like that.
[ a mission you don't even support. it's too risky, and for no worthy reward, as far as he can tell. ]
no subject
[It feels like too simple a point to repeat. But he has his own beef with Forneus' plan, one that digs at the idealistic wishes he knows are probably not obtainable in his own land.
Maybe, at least, they could not repeat it here.
He lets the music start to settle in the air, observing what was left of the food in his hand, of the color still vibrant from the surroundings that coated everything with warmth.]
My land completely changed when a god was killed. It was a long time ago, and maybe nothing as drastic as time or anything. But a god is a god, and it was still just as big a part of how the world works. If you mess with that...
[...
He sniffs with a clearing of his throat.]
A lot of history was lost, and what was left was hidden or rewritten, or just weakened as older generations started dying out. There's an entire world out there that's disintegrating underneath the water, and a whole lot of life being lost, because some mortal power decided to mess with something outside of their control.
[A beat, before he takes a second to shove his collar up against his neck and face.]
I'd rather not see us doing something idiotic like that to a place like this. No matter what Forneus says or thinks.
no subject
[ but enough about that. with another bite of the fish skewer leaving a blast of flavorful spice on his tongue, he listens in silence, soaking up lutha's words without a trace of judgment.
it explains much about how lutha acts, and the things he says, if not everything. ookurikara cannot and will not pretend to be an empathetic sword, but this is something he thinks he can understand. he'd seen some of it for himself, after all - and so his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword, as if that could protect them both from the memory of how that water ate away at his steel, found its way into his carving and imperfections and utterly ruined him. it is a lifeline, a reminder that he is, still, whole.
other than that, his expression and posture don't change. ]
This world isn't the same as either of ours. Gods have been lost here, and the people survive all the same.
[ it's not an argument for or against either side - just a fact. kara obviously has his own opinion, rooted in how his own world functions. knowing, however, doesn't erase the discomfort that comes with going against his purpose as a touken danshi. ]
Still, even the most masterful tactician's plans can fall apart with a stroke of luck for the wrong side. I have no intention of finding out how badly that would turn out here.