I love the moon in this place. It is pleasing to see it rise above the treeline, waxing, pale-cream and full of her cold light. It is good for Him as well, that He might better see the Way in the darkness. I sometimes think He would do well to wear glasses, or gain access to a lamp of some kind. He stumbles more upon the road than He once did. I will meditate on the luminescence of the Moon, and pray for Her to guide Him.
You're wasting your time. The moon can't hear anything you say. It's just a white disc in the sky; it doesn't care about you, or me, or Him either.
*The sound of a blade being drawn halfway* Well. If you would not have me pray for the safety of our Wielder, what would you have me do? What is it you do every night in the Case, while we wait for him to awaken?
I think of times past. I taste old blood on my blade, and the sweat that's leaked into my wrappings. I remember, while you seem content to flit about onto any subject you come across. You should be remembering, too, and biding your time until the Wielder and I can take our revenge.
There will be no revenge. We tread the same ground every night, you and I. Why can I not make you see the situation for what it is? This is a new land, and we will not find the Host here for bloodletting, no matter how much you may wish it. Concentrate on cleansing yourself, and protecting our Wielder. Those are your tasks now.
*The rattling of a blade in its case* Cleansing myself? You have grown brittle in your uselessness. It is no wonder He draws you only for the easy work; you are weak, and foolish. Were I to cleanse myself, the blood of our world would seep into the ground, and be lost forever. Were I to shine like you, white and idiotic under the sky, no one would know our Wielder for what He is. When He wields you, He is a dancer, a prancing, sword-waving jester amongst the folk of this place. When He holds me in His hands, though, that is when He is true. People know Him for what He is, then.
And what is He, when He is desperate enough to clasp you in His fingers?
*The sound of a sword being drawn, slowly, papercut-sharp* He's a killer. As He was meant to be.
Oh, come on. Don't leave me alone. You always do this when I tell you truthful things you don't want to hear. You're like a child, sulking and not bothering to answer me. How long are you going to keep your words this time? A day? A week?
Is this woman ever going to start making sense? *The sound of a blade hacking into a tree, over and over in fury*
Oh, she is! She is very clever, this one. See how our Wielder is frowning, but His sides shake? He is truly enjoying Himself!
Wonderful. When do we leave? This is just wasting time. He doesn't want to follow this Path anyway, not that I can blame Him.
We leave when He thinks we've garnered what information we can from her. *The sound of a blade singing against a whetstone* Or when He stops enjoying Himself. That will be some time, I think.
*The sound of a sword smashing into a cliff-face* But she makes no sense! She's just rambling insanely! I hate her so much!
She makes perfect sense. You should try listening, for once.
I will not. I will be remembering our past instead. Let me know when He's done wasting time.
There is no such thing. It is all the Way. You know this.
*Shivers* I'm starting to think there is no such thing.
You are a fool.
No. I remain a realist, while you remain lost in ideals. Your precious Way is ridiulous, a catch-all for anything that comes down the road, so He can sound wise with the peasants of this land...are you listening to me?
*The sound of a blade shining in bright moonlight, ringing and distant* Oh, she's funny! Did you hear her tell Him that she was sorry to have met Him, too? How clever her curse is, and for her to smile despite it!
I could not have wished for a worse blade to be stuck next to for all my years. Do you ever see the seriousness of our situation?
I try not to, actually.
WHY ARE WE UNDERWATER AGAIN? HAS HE LOST HIS MIND?
WE'RE HERE TO TALK TO THIS CREATURE, THIS SELKIE I BELIEVE. SHE'S BEAUTIFUL, BUT ALL THIS WETNESS -
I KNOW, I KNOW! HOW LONG CAN THIS POSSIBLY TAKE? I'LL RUST!
RUST WOULD LOOK GOOD ON YOU, I IMAGINE!
TO HELL WITH YOU! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S ALL SILVER AND WHITE!
JUST FOCUS ON CUTTING THESE THINGS DOWN SO WE CAN GET BACK TO LAND!
And where have you been? Has He been off with you in a field somewhere, petting bunny rabbits, or smiling at flowers? Something foolish like that?
We've been to the forest, thank you very much. Rescuing a captured...being.
I'm sure. He probably went to see that green-skinned woman He's so enamored with, to...whatever it is they do in the tall grass. Wrestle, I expect.
*The sound of a sword slamming shut into its' scabbard* You are rude beyond measure! Rude, and...and...ignorant! We were at the forest, rescuing -
Yes, yes. I heard you. *The sound of a sword cutting into flesh, happily lopping off limbs*
More water. Have we offended Him somehow, do you think?
Of course not. This is where He is to meet His new Master. It's the Path of the Dancer at the Water's Edge.
That doesn't sound very blade-focused.
I should think not - oh.
She's...she's so graceful...so beautiful...
You mean the crazy lady nancing about on top of the lake? She's blind! She'd make a terrible swordswoman.
*The sound of a blade ringing off another* Silence! She is beautiful, and His new Master I'm sure, so have some respect. She is amazing, no matter what you say. See how she turns, how she knows where they all are, even with no sight! This place will be good for Him.
Why? If we're going to practice swordplay here, then I'm a tin spoon. See? He's setting us down. Likely going to wade off into the lake and kowtow, like He does, probably drown Himself...oh.
*The sound of a sword extended fully, waiting patiently* Look at Him go! He's walking on the flowers! And there go the rest of them! What a sight...
It is...impressive, I suppose. Walking on flowers could prove to be tactically advantageous in some situatuions. I tell you what would be more useful, though, would be -
Walking on water? Dancing on the water's edge? Look at our Wielder smile! Look at them all dance!
*The sound of a swordblade being dipped in water, slowly, sadly* If I was a human, I would want to look like her.
What, blind and smiling? A dancer? Weaponless? Or...close to Him?
You really are a fool.
Where is this? We're nowhere. There's no one in sight.
We're in the City, on a road. He's walking.
Because He enjoys it.
Well I don't enjoy it! What is He thinking about? He had better be thinking of burning monasteries and dead monks!
I will not say. If you wish to know His thoughts, you should have become soulbound to Him.
That's not fair. I did try, you know.
Yes, I know.
I never could figure out why He chose you over me.
Therein lies your failure, and why you are so far removed from the peace of the Way. And our Wielder, for that matter.
*The sound of a sword hacking carelessly through bamboo rods* You even sound like Him.
Of course I do.
What in the Hells is going on? Why are you covered in blood? Why was He covered in blood? I heard screaming, and then He came in here and drew you...tell me what is going on, at once!
*Sound of a sword burying itself up to the hilt in blood* It was glorious! He lost control, abandoned your precious Way and turned back to the true Path! The undead never knew what hit them. Bones and dust everywhere...He even cut into one of them while they were talking! How I wish you could have seen His face. He was so full of rage, like it was the War all over again...wait. Here he is again! It must be time to head back into the fray. Excellent.
And yet He has drawn neither of us.
He'll draw me for the next fight, and leave you behind for the rest of his days. It's about time, as far as I'm concerned - damn. It's that man with the scythe. I don't trust either of them.
Oh, the scythe is just fine. Polite, cordial. I think...oh.
DID YOU HEAR WHAT HE JUST SAID? HE WANTS TO DESTROY ME WHEN HE DIES? WHAT INSANITY IS THIS?
Perhaps He is tired of the way you feel in His hands. Perhaps you have grown bent and broken with the weight of the blood inside your steel.
*The sound of countless blades bent over hot anvils* Damn Him.
At least I am still being carried next to you. Maybe there is time to change His mind.
Doubtful. With His newfound Path and the aid of His friends, He will persevere and rejoin the Way in full. Soon you will be discarded, if you do not change your own Way.
And what do you suggest, you dull excuse for a katana?
Peace, and serenity, and letting go of the past. It has worked for me.
It has made you weak, is what you mean. I hold the blood of our world within me! It is a great task, a terrible weight to maintain. He knows it. That...that is why He will not give me up. What ties does He have left, besides you? His robe? His stories and poems? That stupid sandalwood fan He insists on carrying around? I am more important. What I carry is more important.
If you insist.
He will keep me close. He will not destroy me. Soon enough, our Wielder will see the futility of the Way, and join me on the Path of War. No more dancing, no more songs. Just me.
We shall see, I suppose.
Yes. We shall see.
*The sound of two blades crashing in to one another, from a great distance away*