🔪 WEAPON

@weaponbcrne· | Continued

Fryst raises a curious eyebrow at the curt response of this young woman. He hadn’t been expecting such bluntness, and now struggled to think of an appropriate thing to reply with.

He takes a moment to think, the staff lazily hanging in his hand. Small flurries of snow floating down from it and gathering at his feet. Finally, Fryst arrived at his answer, grinning and smiling at the girl.

“Well… I’m lost too,” he confesses (and it is true, he has no clue where is.) “So perhaps we can be lost together? Maybe we’ll find a way!”

though she relishes his hesitation, it’s a testament to her mental fortitude that her blank mask does not crack under the pressure of her irritation at his response. the only outward sign, if noticeable, is her eyes narrowing even further-- unmistakably a glower, directed straight at him. it takes a mere few seconds for her to brush aside said irritation, however ( because wasting time and energy being annoyed is just that-- a waste )

❝ hm. ❞ though she would prefer to be left to her own devices, she can’t rightly refuse, what with the stranger’s admission ( it’s understandable-- getting lost, she’s found, is surprisingly easy to do ) ❝ then let’s go. we should find someone who actually knows where we are. ❞

« ♬ »―“That’s okay! I do that, too. Ahh–you seemed pretty interested in weapons, though.. do you like watching demonstrations? I see videos on knife throwing all the time! It’s pretty neat!” He grinned, leaning forward now. “I saw some guy throw a card so hard it cut a guy’s wooden block before!”

« ♬ »―“Everyone needs a name.” He mused, hands on his hips. “I don’t like to pry, so.. you probably have your own reasons as to why you don’t have a name. I won’t ask. I have a strict don’t ask if you shouldn’t know policy!” That was something he prided in. Unless you were meant to know, no one should be forced to give up their past or answer things they weren’t comfortable with.

« ♬ »― No name? He  perked, looking at her. She seemed very reserved. “..Ah.. then..” Black and white.. he couldn’t call her something bland. He waited, hand to his chin. “I’ll call you Harmony.. You just seem like you have a peaceful air about you when you talk.. plus, your hair looks super cool–like night and day!” He grinned, head tilted as he stood tall.

« ♬ »― That’s very true. He thought to himself. One wrong step–one wrong swing–and you’re a goner. He gulped hard, thinking for a second. “It’s okay. I took haidong gumdo when I was in high school, so swordsmanship is pretty easy to me. I can hit a target pretty well, but not when the target is moving too fast. I have to work harder.” At least she was understanding.

“I’m Westly, by the way. Most folks call me Wes.”

she nods in response to the introduction, though hesitates with her own-- names are somewhat sensitive subject for her, as are introductions. ❝ nice to meet you, wes... ❞ there’s yet another pause as she thinks, contemplating the correct response. rather quickly, she comes to the conclusion that such a response does not exist. ❝ you can call me whatever you like. i don’t really... have a name. ❞

"Wake up... please wake up..."

"Hey, are you okay? You seem a bit faint..."

"N-no no! Stay with me now!"

"Keep breathing, you'll be fine."

"Oh! You're awake! You've been out for so long-!"

"I found you unconscious back there. What happened?"

"Hey, are you alright over there?!"

"We found you in a horrid state.. but we patched you up as best we could!"

"Don't try to move. Just get some rest, okay?"

"Oh, I guess you weren't dead after all."

"Hey! This one finally woke up! Get me a doctor!"

"Shh... take it easy, there's no rush. You were passed out for a long time, you see."

"Ow.. my aching-"

"Ugh... where...?"

"Help me.. someone..."

"I can't hold on... fading away.."

"What happened? Where is this-!"

"Gah! S-stay away from m-me! I don't know who you are!"

"Did.. did you save me back there? Thanks.. I guess."

"I was passed out for that long?!"

"Help me up.. please help me up..."

"What happened to me anyways? I feel so lightheaded..."

"Am I in a hospital? I wasn't here before.."

« ♬ »―“I mean, it’s pretty neat to see someone wield a blade bigger than them..” He admitted aloud. “I know he swung it pretty hard–it decapitated a dummy in one swing. I know in history, a guy held one and took down a soldier and a horse in one blow.. it’s why those huge swords were made.. to take the horse and the rider down with them.” He remembered watching Rurouni Kenshin and how Zanza–the fighter for hire–or rather.. better known as Sanosuke.. tried to defeat him with the rather large blade.

“It’d be a hassle to handle one–but with the right training, it’d be lethal.”

❝ ...i suppose. ❞ it’s a thoughtful hum this time, as she murmurs her doubts under her breath ( she doubts that even she, with all her training, could wield such a blade ). ❝ swinging it hard doesn’t constitute as skill, though. unless you’re prepared, the momentum could spell your doom. ❞ there’s a pause, and she realises rather abruptly that her tone is far too grave, too serious-- she’s at risk of giving herself away, and she quickly brushes off her previous comments with a clipped ( no, forced ) laugh.

« ♬ »― “If I could make my own knives, I’d make them look really amazing! I’d add my own flare to them, you know? I love watching all those videos online on how people make things… I remember watching a video on this guy who made a HUGE sword!! Like–it was bigger than HIM!” He began to get excited talking about weaponry. It was just way too interesting.. not that he would judge her interests or her in general.

“I think it would be AWESOME to see more people being creative instead of lazy!”

a small smile forms on her lips, though the expression is fleeting, as his excitement grows-- it seems to be contagious, though she can’t help being critical when the subject turns to weaponry. ❝ hm... sounds impractical. ❞ her mind is solely on this apparently huge sword ( because who in their right mind would wield a blade bigger than themselves? it would hurt them more than it helped )

« ♬ »― That’s good. She wasn’t upset with him or annoyed. He visibly calmed, eyes becoming more gentle as time went on. “I really like history about weapons.. I think it’s kinda fun. You know? I know how to handle knives, myself.. but not well enough to defend myself.” Which was a lie, but he didn’t know that. It was in his subconscious that he knew how to defend–or rather… kill. Wes was clueless about that side of himself.

“I think it’s cool to watch them being made, too. I used to go a theme park where I lived when I was a kid–they had a blacksmith who made knives and swords and other things… He’d pound away at the heated metal and it would take shape right before my eyes. My grandfather told me that people used to do that so much more a long time ago.. I wish people put that much hard work into everything nowadays.”

❝ ...i can handle knives, too. ❞ there’s a second part to that sentence and she knows it, but she refrains from continuing. though she’s unfamiliar with the concept, this may well be the beginning of a friendship-- ruining it by talking too much about herself is the last thing she wants. instead, she cuts herself off rather abruptly, eyes cast downward.

« ♬ »― He perked, tilting his head. “..ah.. They do. I have one sword.. it’s from World War II.. At least, that’s what I was told. It’s blade is on the wrong side and it came from Tokyo. I hear it’s from a famous swordsman.” He grinned, looking to the stranger now. “I love hearing stories. Now and again–I think it’s fun to hear about the stories behind the stories. About the people who made them.. the people who held them first.. It’s different than just looking at it or collecting them.”

“It probably feels really weird to hear that kind of thing coming from someone like me. But that’s the point of a collection, I think. To learn more about the objects you have.”

as it turns out, listening to someone else talk about weaponry is very interesting. each person views their necessity differently, and is interested in different aspects of their creation-- their stories, their creators, everything. she hums quietly as she listens to the stranger speak, interest evident on her face ( though such an expression of emotion can be attested to her interest in the subject-- being a hitwoman teaches intimate knowledge of weaponry )