人斬りの刀だよ .

a few points:

hizen is a tsukumogami! which are essentially beings / souls that manifested from an inanimate object after existing for 100 years. he refers to himself as a sword because despite having a human-like appearance, he is a sword.

he’s also not very friendly. or, rather, he’s not intentionally overly abundantly positive. with people he doesn’t like, he’s definitely not friendly at all and makes no attempts to be. but with people he is on good terms with, he’s respectful and doesn’t, you know, call them bastards or anything. 

his previous master was okada izou, and because of how he was used, he refers to himself as a killer’s sword. originally, he probably would have just been hung on koshirae after certain events. 

it’s also mentioned by nankaitarou that he ( along with mutsunokami, ) took on the appearance of his previous master as a ‘base.’ this means that, yes, he does have a scar around his neck in the same area izou was beheaded. yes, he is raggedy. yes, he also likes drinking — you get the works. 

Ah. After what had been an exhilarating thirty minutes of flying, Lucifer had sought to his stop, flying aimlessly and relishing what time he had with his wings. He’d had no particular destination in mind. Each and every time Lucifer had a chance to fly, it seemed as though his time earned felt shorter. If there was one thing he did miss, it was his freedom of scouring what skies he would. Despite everything tied to his existence which was a memory better buried, his wings were something he’d cherished. They were apart of him. 

Lucifer was sitting in what he’d thought was somewhere desolate because he at least wanted to stretch them after. It seemed he’d gathered attention before, both pleasant and not, so really, he took any opportunity he could when things were at least quiet - a hard find in the city of Spirale. Just as he was carefully taking them out again, a voice could be heard. Lucifer turned, eyes a little wide at the sudden company. He didn’t mind, of course. Exposure to one person was better than a lot. Lucifer smiled.

“Just resting.” He wondered if it was simply curiosity, or, whether he had intruded in on something. “I hope I’m not intruding here at all.” Despite there being no indication to clarify that assumption, Lucifer still apologised. Perhaps he looked a sight, having had his back turned. Lucifer turned to face the stranger. “Or, were you perhaps looking for some peace and quiet too?” As interesting and new as everything was, even an ex-harbinger of light sought to rest their head a bit. Now that he could. 

just resting, huh. he couldn't tell what spots were good for that in... this place, spirale, so he doesn't make an effort to think about it otherwise. the citadel was good for that, but not much anyplace else.

but with intruding — no, not exactly.

"You aren't." he's not going to claim the place for just himself, he's not interested in that, he just.. wasn't expecting anyone else to be here, for some reason. there's no lapse of hesitance whenever he answers, but he does look back towards the items, "I don't know what I was looking for." something? anything? "Sitting still is uncomfortable." he feels like he should be doing something, so this makes the most sense to him. it adds up the most.

and he doesn't know what he's hoping for, either. "Do you know what these are?" he dips his head towards the multitude of discs, records, more of a nod than anything else. "I get told about them a lot." but he doesn't understand them. and trying to force himself around the concept just frustrates him instead.

... and he realizes that when he's resting, he doesn't tend to enjoy being bothered. he's probably being one right now.

there's a lot of things he's been doing that fall outside what he wants to do, but honestly, he doesn't know what he wants to do. he should be grateful. count his blessings that he doesn't have to do what he didn't like to before. he's not sure if a similar situation will arise anytime soon, and he hasn't seen a single unit of that army — as far as he knows, they don't exist here.

and another thing, again as far as he knows, is that these items don't exist where he's from either. records, videotapes.. something about how they'll 'transform.' he wonders if it's the same way he had. he doubts that it is.

and he notices when someone else is standing down one of the spots he was making his way around to. noticing is part of what he does, so of course he does. but he can't make out his expression — there's a number of names he could place to it. none of them fit.

Voyager was mostly interested in how soft their hair looked. Touch is still something he’s not quite used to, and as their hair blows in the soft breeze, he wonders about what it might feel like. Maybe it’ll feel like a kitten. It looks like it should feel like a kitten, or a bunny. His scarf waves much harder than the breeze dictates, and Voyager just stares in awe, eyes wide.

Oh – and then they’re approaching him! Voyager stares up, and smiles, because he’s supposed to smile here, right? This is when people greet each other, so –

“Good, afternoon.”

The words are soft. He keeps staring, and doesn’t seem to quite grasp that the drink’s being offered to him. He can feel the heat of the day, and he definitely doesn’t like it, but the breeze is enough to keep him from fretting too much about it for now (it’s not a bath, all-encompassing and way too hot, so it’s okay, he thinks). Plus, there’s only one drink, and he doesn’t know who this is at all, so maybe –

– oh, this must be how he’s trying to cool off!

Voyager pretends to wrap his hand around a container and holds his hand out in a mimicry of their own gesture, just without the drink, and beams proudly.

he's not sure how he feels about being met with a smile. he normally avoided those that were incredibly young — because they often found him scary. this one doesn't seem to at all. he wants to smile in return. he wants to. he wants to. he doesn't.

that kind of expression doesn't fit him.

"..Good afternoon." and he's half-expectant, for him to take the drink from him. and for a moment he thinks he's finally raising his hands to do so, but instead he mirrors his own action. hizen doesn't understand what he's doing. "What..." what's he supposed to do here? he stares for what may be uncomfortably long, but at this point he's not sure the kid would even find that weird.

⟁ “Alright… I already put the boats at the water’s edge and it’s not far.” She allowed him to take about five candles before moving forward, shuffling around what was left in her arms a little more comfortably. She wouldn’t pry more into whether or not he had a reason to be here. As someone who didn’t like being questioned herself it was easy to see why someone wouldn’t like it.

She used to get questions about her hair all the time. No one knew the pain and trauma seated with it of course, but it had always been frustrating.

“Hyup!” Lysithea made a weird noise as she knelt before the boats, dropping her candles onto the ground beside them before setting up one per floatie. “Thanks.” She glanced over her shoulder at the boy. “I never gave you my name did I? I’m Lysithea von Ordelia.” It was strange introducing herself though, no one knew the Ordelia name.

at least they don't have to carry the boats on top of the candles, but he wasn't too concerned about that to begin with... she's still carrying the bulk of the candles, and he almost feels he should have pushed to carry more of them. well, they're just candles.

however, he doesn't drop the candles when he too joins her and kneels. not out of a of course i can continue holding them but more a neglect to. he doesn't think twice about it. he neglects to answer with his own name at first, too. he doesn't need a name. he has one, but he remembers those words clearly. his only purpose is to cut others down.

.. but he doesn't want to answer with that. "Lysithea von Ordelia. Okay." it's kind of fancy. it sounds fancy. or regal or — whatever the word. he's not very great at putting things into words, so he doesn't want to fumble with the specifics of it. he doesn't care to.

and he's a little too hesitant still, so he focuses instead on putting one candle in per boat. he almost feels like an impostor, really. someone walking around and behaving like a human, without any of the experience in what it means to be human. he's not human - he has to remember that. a sword is a sword at the end of the day. he only has one purpose.

Did he need help? idia knew that coming to this place wasn’t any sort of accomplishment into defeating the nagging fear and hopelessness of being stuck here, but it helped so help him collect his thoughts. It was hard to think though, with anyone else around. Not that Idia was the sort of person to tell anyone he didn’t know at all to go away, but he wanted that… nicely. The stranger’s advice wasn’t something uncommonly heard. Idia knew that if he did need something, he could always ask, but he was very used to doing a lot of things on his own, becoming capable by himself to the extent that he’d rarely need to ask anyone else. It was both a good thing and a bad thing, all things considered. His talents laid in the work he did by himself, but asking would, perhaps, get him to talk to people more… was it really what he wanted, though? Idia looked back at them eventually, his hood now concealing most of his face. He’d only come here to be alone. There was nothing else to do. This seemed like a finality in any decision-making as far as dealing with the overhanging problem. Everyone, Idia thought, should know the bigger picture here.

“….I was just collecting my thoughts,” Idia said quietly. And what a more opportune place than a dark dead-end. Again, he would be one of the few to have thought so. “I was getting away from everything.. and everyone.” Idia made eye contact briskly before looking back down again. “There was no one here, so…. I-I needed to wind down.” From the chaos, from the unwanted, unsolicited and completely random attention. From everything that was going on. He wasn’t about to admit that this spot in particular comforted him, but it did.

“I mean. We all know the real problem here, right?” Idia looked around quickly. “Being stuck here… if anyone has any answers, they can surely say something. I don’t want to be here.”

it's a little difficult to look him in the face now, if only because his hood obscures most of his face. hizen takes this, along with the brief eye contact, as a he doesn't him looking at him, so he looks away, pretending he's occupying his attention with something else. he's not quite okay with just brushing the rest of this person off, however much they may want to do to him. even if he deeply understands the feeling of wanting to be left alone.

"I put a damper on that, huh." with bothering him, and continuing to bother him, it probably is a little hard to see that he's here to begin with — otherwise, would he have continued down here? he can guess, but he doesn't know. and as he continues ( —which, honestly, hizen is a little surprised that he had; is the talking from nervous energy? nervous people seemed to talk. whatever kind of person he is, he, at the least, seems nervous, ) it only grows more apparent that he wants to be left alone.

"Being stuck here is a problem, yeah." hizen's more or less... resigned? accepted that this is just how things are now; he doesn't want to expend the energy into attempting an escape. it's tiring thinking about it. he wants out, yes, but how often would he have to keep at it before it stuck? "Feels like there's not a lot we can do about it." he probably sounds dismissive. he probably is. "They'll let us leave when they want us to, or until they forget about us, or until someone does find a way out — it doesn't matter to me." whether he's here for a reason or not either, there's no... point. "Was it better back home? It's about the same for me, here or there."

he looks — curious? hizen's not great at distinguishing whatever children might be feeling. though the only experience he really has is with the younger swords at the citadel.. there's wind chimes, gently clinking against one another in the entrance, and hizen is sitting up on the wooden railing that wraps around the shop. he normally grabs a few drinks on the way here while he goes about what he needs to, but this time he's only grabbed one. it's something sweeter, ( —he thinks something like... honey lemon? sure enough that's what it says on the label. )

⟁ The young man had seemed somewhat agitated at first, and so the mage hadn’t expected he might offer a hand to her. “If you don’t mind, but you don’t need to. After all, these are…” Pink eyes trailed to the side a moment. They were for the siblings she’d lost to Those Who Slithered, to the friends that she’d lost during the war. But she didn’t want to burden a stranger with the heavy details either.

“Never mind. There are a lot of them, but I can manage if you have other plans. You must have come her for some reason, right?” The river beneath the great tree wasn’t just a place one wandered to on a whim, though it was possible. “But if you want you can have one, I don’t know if I was using them all properly anyways.”

She’d thought maybe she could set one out for herself, but perhaps she should wait for her actual demise first.

well, he... didn’t have many other plans. things that he thought he’d check out at some point, sure, but nothing that he couldn’t work other things around. so he motions his hand once more, “Hand 'em over.” there’s little softness in his tone, if any at all - and he’s aware of this. efforts to making him not seem... mean? even smaller.

and he wants to skirt around why he came exactly. ‘because i want to send well wishes to my late but no-longer-late master,’ sounds too personal, and he doesn’t need a candle for that. he doesn’t. he doesn’t.

“careful….!” it was an opportune moment for byleth to hear the misstep. with already being anxious, they were quick to hurry their own pace, lest someone needed catching or anything. luckily that wasn’t the case. it was rare that byleth ever called out in such a manner, but due to the ongoing circumstances that were happening in spirale, they couldn’t help but be on edge. perhaps this could be counted as somewhat of a blessing, to have some people’s memories be taken back. if only it were time itself, byleth thought. maybe then confrontations would be easier. it had been hard for byleth to settle in spirale, knowing that some of their students and friends hadn’t remembered them for who they were exactly. instead, byleth felt like some double; a mirrored vision of themselves. their past was still lost. seeing that the stranger had saved themselves though, byleth relaxed their shoulders, arms falling back down from being ready to cushion their fall.

what was it exactly they were doing at a time like this? byleth had found news had come to spread fast within spirale. perhaps they were simple just as anxious as byleth was. after all, byleth had bore witness to many people who looked either lost or scared. and the worst part was… if at some point byleth would lose their memories, then they would lost everything they had worked for. 

“are you alright?” byleth asked. maybe they were anxious too. “um.. do you need help with the boxes?” now wasn’t the best of times, but byleth was asking anyway. “if you’re close to falling again and do fall, there might not be anyone to help. so i don’t mind.” 

he hadn't wholly realized anyone else was in the shop - or at least, he didn't hear this person come in. the door didn't have anything like a bell on it to ring when swung open, and it didn't creak either. but he was more startled with almost slipping through the ceiling, so hearing the voice doesn't add anything to that. he pulls himself up, positioning himself sitting upright with his legs still hanging below, and he looks through the gap.

"Yeah, thanks. Were you—you were going to catch me?" if seeing him as is wasn't embarrassing enough, this somehow makes him feel.. well, shy, would be the closest if he could name it. but appreciative all the same. shaking off the feeling, he looks back up at the remaining boxes. help wouldn't be so bad, but...

would he get scorned for involving someone else with it...? he can handle that, even if it's a bit of a pain to deal with. "I can probably handle it myself." but he doesn't want to. he's right that there might not be anyone around if he does fall completely through. "But I would enjoy the help."

he'd only caught the words from passing lips — that people are acting strangely, affected by something that apparently is not affecting him. that, or he just didn't notice the changes. which seems to be the common thing between them all, so: how is 'normal' supposed to be when it comes to here? whether he was there long enough for anyone to notice his own, he doesn't much care for.

for now, he's more focused on steadying himself on the open boards of the ceiling. there's a few boxes haphazardly placed up here, probably because the shop itself is still under construction, so why it's even somewhat open he's not entirely sure of. requests to retrieve it elicited a groan from him, but it's stuff that's supposed to help, or so the old man says.

hizen missteps, though, as he's about to pick up the box and ends up almost slipping through one of the many gaps of the floor - just narrowly catching himself before he wholly falls through. 

it's kind of similar to expeditions back home. getting sent out for materials, less dangerous than actual missions, and something he actually kind of prefers. he doesn't have to kill as much - very little jikan sokōguns. and like expeditions, he's paired with people he's less than acquainted with. though he holds no opinion for them, he feels little need to complain since it's part of their regulations.

he's assuming because the volume of the items needed means there's no need for a handful of people, two will suffice, and he's practically hurried by the requester along with his.. partner. colleague? he doesn't know what to call it. nonetheless, it's stuff that needs to be retrieved from the mistwood, and very little people seem willing to actually go. but.. the reward is decent, and he's realized that he'll need basically anything he can get here.

he pats himself off, but doesn't look towards the other man before he speaks.

Dark and gloomy were what Idia suited best. As seemingly jumpy as Idia looked (and was), he spoke of dark corners like this as if it were the best suited home for him. Of course, in Spirale, it wasn’t the same. Idia was scared, very much so. Nothing would make Idia feel safer than his own dorm room, tucked away from everything and everyone. Perhaps that was lonely, but Idia didn’t mind. All he wanted was to go back to Night Raven College. His steps were careful, hands in pockets, his hood concealing most of his face along with his unruly blue hair. It was hard to tuck that all away; Idia mentally cursed himself for not being able to hide as much as he wished. When hearing another’s voice, Idia jumped, stopping in his tracks, giving a small yelp. Usually one would think of a ghost at first, but Idia would have preferred that. Looking up, Idia was wide-eyed and panic stricken, eyes locking onto the other. Yep, definitely scary, and not what Idia wanted at all. “I… a-alright…” A dead end. It was hard to tell. Everything was getting dark. Idia was just trying to get away from the noise as quickly as possible. 

What was he to say? Thank you? Idia quickly diverted his gaze to the ground, fingers gripping onto his hood to pull it further over his head. Staying here didn’t seem like a bad idea until now. “….Thanks. Good bye now.” He didn’t look back, but instead stood there, feet shuffling awkwardly. Idia decided to close his eyes. Maybe if they were closed long enough, this person would go by the time he opened them again?

...

what a weird guy.

"See you." ... ... ...

what's.. he... doing?

standing in place, noticeably uncomfortable — he looks scared. from what all hizen can actually see; from what all he could gauge from his voice. he doesn't seem lost, but he's not a professional in figuring out that kind of thing. still, he finds himself staring at him ( —likely the last thing that would help, at all, ) opens his mouth for a second to tack more on, stalls for a few more seconds, and finally speaks up again to ask the previous question he thought. "What are you doing?" definitely comes out harsher than he means.

he considers his tone for a moment, but doesn't know how to adjust it to sound.. softer. adjusting how he's speaking is difficult on it's own, much less to put it into practice. he could try, though - how would he speak to someone younger than him? nankai-sensei? no, it's still hard.

and he's sure that, probably, most likely, he either wants to leave or wants hizen to leave. why else would he stand here like that?