silently blooming.

          “THEN YOU all are tsukumogami. Am I incorrect?”

     In spite of the implications – unleashing spirits hundreds of years old, benevolent only as far as she is aware – would rightly terrify and astound a great many people, though the sage hardly seems bothered by such a revelation. Speaking with the swords, hearing their stories... hearing them recount their tales as a person who was there has certainly given her perspective, both into the history they protect and into the warriors she works to take care of.

THEY WILL CLIMB THE WALL IF THEY HAVE TOO. its a good thing your others are swords because they'd fight them otherwise

Kogi: u smol Katsu: bitch

prepare for her to be mothered by birb saniwa

Living with MCTD is, usually, a lot more difficult than Tsubaki would ever admit. Adjusting from living with parents and a caretaker to being practically alone, with very few swords knowing of how intense her condition is, was incredibly tough on her body — she suffers symptoms of polymyositis, an autoimmune disease, that leaves her with considerable muscle weakness that makes once simple tasks (standing up from sitting, climbing stairs, lifting objects, reaching overhead) much more difficult. Inflammation of the joints is also a common symptom she faces, leading to swelling, pain, and decreased mobility in general.

“The good news really is encouraging. Everyone’s hard work is paying off. I’m sure with continued combined effort the Time Retrograde Army will hopefully be stopped for good.”

Mamoru wasn’t typically one to sound so optimistic, but life’s too short to be so negative and the last thing he wanted was to say something to make himself sound pessimistic to her. That wouldn’t be the best way to make a first impression either. He picked up his cup of tea and calmly took a sip off it.

     Words of agreement foster a soft smile, hidden briefly behind the rim of her cup.

          “IT WOULD... seem that the effort is going better than they anticipated.”

     Making small talk between sessions is... not quite as painful as she’d imagined, though not entirely pleasant, either. They’re supplied with tea, small portions of food to tide them over until they’re properly released for lunch or dinner or whichever they choose; Tsubaki gazes into her cup as her mind cranks along, mulling over what she’s learned, what discoveries other saniwas have made and shared here.

          “YOU AREN’T hurt too badly, are you...?”

     She and the servants have come to somewhat of an understanding, though not without Tsubaki having had to put her foot down. Though usually he tends to fuss at her for interrupting the mending process, she makes a point, always, to check up on any of her swords who return from their sorties injured, regardless of circumstances.

     Her features contort as she looks him over – as if she felt every painful blow her sword took – though she refrains from touching him, unwilling to compromise the healing process already underway. Violet eyes flicker from body to face, and briefly she steps away to allow the blacksmith to pass before coming near once more.

          “I’M AFRAID... I can’t say we’ve been acquainted.”

     In spite of her racing heart, the sage extends a bow to the person before her, grateful that the hallway around them remains mostly empty —— for any fellow saniwa to see her graceless presence when not necessary is... still a somewhat horrific thought, one that she does her best to ignore in favor of meeting this comrade in arms.

          “GOOD MORNING.”

     Most of the swords in her citadel being early risers, Tsubaki has adjusted her own sleep schedule over time to accommodate them; though she’s still adjusting to rising so early, she offers him a tentative smile nevertheless, even going so far as to hold up an empty cup in offering.