3617/Forged From The Soul

Forged From The Soul
Date of Scene:	06 January 2016
Location:	The One Eyed Jack
Synopsis:	Wuyin Tsai pays a visit to the kitsune swordsmith and strikes her with inspiration.
Cast of Characters:	Wuyin Tsai, 900

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Yukihana Masamune (900) has posed:
    Aboard the Spelljammer vessel, the One Eyed Jack is a room where metal flows like a river, red hot and the drum beat of the hammer resounds upon anvil daily. This is the forge of Yukihana Masamune. It had once been a simpler chamber, before the kitsune had moved in and converted it to a more permanent work space for her trade. It is small by the standards of most forge, but has everything the fox could need for her work, with enough room left over for a length of bamboo on a hinge, beneath a slow trickling flow of water.
    ~Donk~.
    Nevertheless, the last heir to the Masamune line is in her chamber, slowly turning a hunk of glowing metal over a crackling bed of coals, beofre she deems it worthy of pulling free from the heat to lay upon her anvil and strike. The rhythmic clink of hammer upon steel resounds through the forge as she busies herself to her task.

Wuyin Tsai has posed:
Finding a ship like the One-Eyed Jack is surprisingly easy if you're willing to stab a few drunken pirates. It's even easier when getting stabbed yourself is a temporary inconvenience and they know it.

Wuyin only actually got aboard without causing a huge ruckus by greasing palms and dropping the name of the vessel's resident swordsmith. As far as anyone can tell, he's some weird human with even weirder choice in eyewear who has business here. As far as any nearby spellslingers can tell, he's a lot more than that, and he's given a wide berth and a watchful eye.

The sound of hammer on steel tips Wuyin off to the presence of the fox within. He stops just inside the door, quietly stepping in and aside, folding his hands and watching her work. If it weren't for the scent of honey that follows him everywhere, he'd be perfectly unobtrusive, and remain perfectly patient.

He's asking for her time. He'll wait until she's done.

Yukihana Masamune (900) has posed:
    Clink, clink, clink. Each blow forms the shapeless ingot into something more workable. Not quite with a purpose just yet it would seem, her work comes to a brief halt when a familiar scent catches her attention. Amid the forefire smell of ash and iron, the silver-haired fox tilts her head back, nose twitching at the air before her silent question is answered.
    "Tsai, Wuyin."
    She remembers him well, before she even turns her head to peer back with one scarlet eye over a slim shoulder. For now, her work is put on pause, the slab of worked steel buried in a bed of red coals to keep it warm for the time being so she can tend to a guest. "Do come in. I take it the rest of the crew directed you to me, easily enough?" Asked as she begins removing the bindings protecting her hands and slinging her apron upon the wall nearby, before she asks what may be the most important question of the evening.
    "Will you take tea?"
    She is of ourse referring to the kettle set out already, using the forge itself to heat the water.

Wuyin Tsai has posed:
It's easy to miss deliberately-quiet footsteps while you're working a forge. It's slightly harder to miss a lingering, foreign smell when all you're used to is ash and iron. Wuyin isn't the only one who has it, but Yukihana may be less acquainted with those of his fellows out in the Multiverse.

Wuyin inclines his head when she turns one scarlet eye to him. He looks the same as ever. He's dressed quite warmly for being in the same room as a forge, but he doesn't show any obvious discomfort. He's disciplined, at least. "They did. They know to keep their business, and that you will keep yours." He doesn't bother mentioning any of the other issues he may have had getting this far in the first place. It's irrelevent, now.

The man in the two-toned glasses straightens smoothly. "Yes, thank you. It is kind of you to offer." Pleasantries, he thinks, are more pleasant when exchanged with someone who isn't using them to hide threats. It's a nice change of pace already.

Yukihana Masamune (900) has posed:
    A nose that keen would of course pick up on an alien smell wandering into her forge. Nevertheless, like a few members of the crew, her gaze does linger on the Dragon's eyewear for a moment, but rather than let her curiosity get the better of her, the kitsune bows her head.
    The tea is a high quality green, the water at the perfect temperature to bring the fragrant and biter flavor out to its best, and clearly, as she pours it with a well practiced hand, she has much experience in the art of forging a good cup tea as she does forging a good blade. Of course there is no threat to her manner, genuinely veiling nothing in the least, as she settles herself down, motioning to Wuyin to join, at the small table set aside for moments just like this.
    "I do not think I have properly thanked you." She does murmur after a few beats. "For that day. Back in Hagane Town."

Wuyin Tsai has posed:
Wuyin smiles very slightly, noticing the look. He doesn't say anything, but he has an idea what it's all about. Pretty much everyone shares that same basic expression when they first get a chance to take a good look at him. A few more actually ask, and get different answers each time. Once someone questioned his eyesight while wearing them, but only once.

Wuyin joins Yukihana, settling at the table with her comfortably. He appreciates her apparent skill at properly pouring it. It isn't so much because he's used to it being done that way, or for being fond of it, but rather because he can tell when someone's put effort into honing a skill, even one as seemingly minor in the grand scheme of things.

Wuyin doesn't reply at first. His expression is unreadable; his face and body language are stilled, and both are hidden, by the clothes he wears that hang just so and the odd glasses that obscure his features. He's thinking, not sure how to properly respond at first.

Eventually, he exhales, lowering his head. He lifts one hand, taking his ever-present glasses between is fingers and smoothly removing and folding them. They disappear into his coat. Underneath, he looks... normal. Sad, maybe. He looks back up, and at her, and finally says, "I'm... sorry. That I could not do more."

Yukihana Masamune (900) has posed:
    It is no proper and full on tea ceremony, though something says Yukihana may just be able to perform that, as well, yet nevertheless the tea has been prepared, and the kettle is set back to warm upon the forge. While Wuyin's body language is subdued, Yukihana's is less so.
    Vulpine ears splay, slender shoulders sag visibly for a moment, before she corrects herself. Once again regaining her air of propriety and doing her best to not let emotion be so visible. She has already failed in that regard however as she takes but a slow breath. "No. You did what you could. And you helped save many lives. I could not have asked more of you." Even if she did feel negatively towards Wuyin himself over the matter- which she clearly does not, she probably would not let her wall of propriety slip again after that.
    It is a slow sip at her tea that helps steel her nerves, before she sets the cup down. "I do believe. You had come to Hagane Town originally with the intention to commission a new sword, did you not?"

Wuyin Tsai has posed:
Wuyin isn't a hundred percent certain she'd leave her work long enough for a full and proper ceremony. He also isn't sure he'd want her to. There's a place for that, and he thinks that here is not it, and especially not with him.

There's a chink in her armor, there, though. A moment of concern crosses his face. Whereas she wears her propriety as armor, Wuyin wears his enigmatic demeanor as a mask and shield. Removing his glasses seemed to be his way of showing that he wasn't going to hide quite so much behind it. Something about her is sort of... disarming.

"I could have asked more of myself," he says steadily. "It is a very difficult thing, to hold this power --" The Dragon looks down at his hand, held palm-up, and a honey-colored light plays around his fingertips. It feels warm in more ways than the physical. "-- and to be unable to use it properly when it matters most. I should have been able to do more." Wuyin bows his head deeply. "I say again: I am as sorry as a man is able." After a moment, he lifts it, saying a touch more quietly, "But you will hear no more from me on so painful a subject."

Wuyin takes a breath. In, out, slow and steady. The scent of the room and the tang of metal reaches him. It feels strange. "I did. My current blade is... insufficient."

Yukihana Masamune (900) has posed:
    Regardless of what could have been asked, once again Yukihana shakes her head in silence. But then. Then there is another shift to her demeanor. A sudden spate of tension enough to make her shiver in place, shoulders a quiver. An apology so candid and self-depricating seems to strike a chord within the kitsune, fingers balling into fists for a brief moment, she looks near ready to lash out and strike.
    But not at Wuyin Tsai.
    Half-lidded eyes of scarlet observe the honey-hued light light from the man's fingertips for a long moment. But even as he says no more will be spoken on the matter, Yukihana Masamune holds it within her heart. She holds upon the moment, letting her every thought focus and swirl upon this one, brief, instant. This flickering feeling of an emotion tumbling within her breast.
    It is without a word that she moves as though stricken into a fugue state. Turning with a swish of silver tail as she grasps her hammer without even wrapping her hands in the protective bindings once again, and pulls the ingot from the goals. The first blow is calamitous, sending forth a rain of sparks as in one fell strike she practically banishes the slag from ingot. The rest that follow are measured, perfect, her focus so intent upon that steel as she pours the very contents of her soul into it.
    It crackles...
    An arc of voltaic light in golden honey tones leaping from her hammer, to the ingot, and then once again visibly flashing an electric dance upon the steel, and then she pauses.
    "Then... Then I shall make one sufficient for you."

Wuyin Tsai has posed:
'Insufficient,' he says.

It isn't a strong enough word.

Wuyin sees the tension shoot through her, and for a moment, he wonders if he's made a mistake. He doesn't react strongly to the seemingly strong desire to move to violence; he seems accepting, as if whatever she did to him for his impertinence was justified. He'll live, he thinks. No... he'll /survive/. They are two very different things, at their core.

Yukihana moves, taking up her tools. Wuyin's eyes widen, unhidden by the glasses that conceal such surprise in every other circumstance. He may as well be screaming. His legs tense, and he seems ready to spring forward, to drag her away from the forge before she injures herself in a way she'll always regret and he'll always remember.

She doesn't.

The light shines. Wuyin settles back, his eyes fixed on her and filled with wonder.

'Sufficient,' she says.

It isn't a strong enough word.

Yukihana Masamune (900) has posed:
    It is another slow breath, and there is renewed life within the kitsune. Perhaps, sufficient is not the correct word in this case at all.
    Though the ingot has been beaten into the rough shape of a long, flat, bar, it still has quite a way to go before it can be called a sword. Still, she strikes it, again and again, as though lost within a trance before finally sliding it back into the bed of coals. For a moment it would seem as though this odd fugue state has finally left her, but no. No words are exchanged further as she clears the table violently, her teacup tossed aside in a fit of ignoring proper manners and customs as she unfurls a sheet of parchment, trembling hands dipping brush into an inkwell as she begins to stroke from memory, each motion perfect and elegant. For if Wuyin Tsai can read Japanese, he too will know the contents of her writings.

    How do the Oni exchange brotherly love?
    Let us count the ways...
    One is for the House-in-Chains,
    Every link is forged from a white-hot soul.
    Two is for the House of the Unwritten Talisman,
    They know the true name of something even they fear to write down.
    Three, is for the House of Bloodied Silks.
    Clotted stains are the hieroglyphs of their history.

    She does not even wait for the ink to dry, as she pulls the unfinished blade from the coals and quenches it. The steel still wafting steam as she pulls it from the water and wraps it in the poem-like verses of the Bees before thrusting it wholesale into the furnace once again, the flames suddenly flaring that orange honey gold color. And remaining that way.
    Now. Now finally her shoulders sag, the fae mood having fled. Several slow breaths, and once more she's glancing back over her shoulder with one scarlet eye.
    "Return to me in three days."

Wuyin Tsai has posed:
Wuyin is stock still. For the first time in a long time, he doesn't know what to do. He feels as if he has lead in his shoes, and weights tied around his hands. Yukihana is moving in a way he doesn't know how to describe. Like a woman possessed? No; he's seen that, and the poetry of the phrase is lost against the vivid memories streaked crimson.

The poetry of the phrase...

She moves, writes, each stroke elegant and precise. He can read it. His Japanese isn't as good as he'd like, but he can read it. He can read it before she finishes writing it.

She turns away from him. Wuyin moves, but out of her line of sight. There's an almost quiet hissing and scraping sound, subsumed in the sound of hammering and quenching. After a too-long moment, Wuyin's chest heaves, and he can be heard sucking in a ragged breath.

Yukihana turns one eye to him. Wuyin stands in the doorway again, shadowed by the outside. The light shines off the colored lenses of his glasses strangely, once more in their place on his face. Sweat glistens on his brow, and runs down his face, despite his apparent cool just a moment ago.

"Three days." His voice is quiet. She can still hear the hoarse creak to the words. "I'll return."

He turns to go. The door swings closed -- and has been marked. Characters cover it in a precise but jagged hand, the door scrawled on with what seems like a hot edge, despite no evidence of any being present but Yukihana's. The words all but cry out to be read, and at the edge of one's perception, a staccato buzzing seems to linger.

    Four is for the House of Snakes and Smoke.
    The deep fumes of the dark earth fuel their thrice-fanged wisdom.
    Five is for the the House of the Red Road.
    They rule the sharp-rocked road that all souls who died in rage
        must cut their bare feet upon.
    Six is for the House in the Void.
    Until called to purpose, they writhe, greasily, in the ever-dark
        nothing of their abyssal home.
    Seven is for the House of the Howling Dog.
    They swallow screams like wine.
    Eight is for the House of Caged Birds.
    They keep a caged aviary of all their kills. The song is so sad
        and sweet.
    Nine is the House of Sworn Revenge.
    The eight other houses of horror all show fear and obeisance to them.
        What more need be said?

Nonsense symbols, clusters of marks, and strange characters follow. Yukihana can pick out the one commonality between them all, the single thing that each mark below represents: nine.

Wuyin flees the ship, to keep the ever-flowing wisdom and the pangs of maddening clarity that comes with it far from the smith in her forge.