『伊達政宗』 ᴅᴀᴛᴇ "LET ME DO IT KOJURO" ᴍᴀsᴀᴍᴜɴᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wardance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
epidemiology2016-03-10 07:21 pm
wardance) wrote in epidemiology2016-03-10 07:21 pm
ʕノ•ᴥ•ʔノ ︵ ┻━┻ { catch-all }
CHARACTERS: Masamune Date (wardance) et al.
DATE: backdated
WARNINGS: will update if needed.
SUMMARY: catch-all for non-event Oska stuff i owe.
…..φ(-ω-｡`)
wardance) et al.DATE: backdated
WARNINGS: will update if needed.
SUMMARY: catch-all for non-event Oska stuff i owe.
no subject
Ah, that Yukimura reminds him of his youth. Though, his eyes were never as rose-shaded as the young warrior's. He is reminded of his relationship with Nobunaga. What a boring man that he was. Only time that he became interesting is when his hand was forced, when he had to destroy a treasure that he did not yet wished destroyed. And then after when all the humanity was drained out of him.
"It is amusing to see history repeat itself." He let out one final sigh. "It is terrible to get so nostalgic." Turning away from the mirrors, he starts towards Masamune, the poor tamed dragon. His hand settles on the hilt of the sword at his side, drumming his fingers against it in thought.
"Stand tall, tamed dragon. You still have a roar left in you, do you not?" Yes. He heard some of it just now. And he pauses as he starts to continue on past. "You are right. I do not hold onto anything that is not mine. I do not hold onto anything that is someone else's. And with how you speak, the Tiger Cub is yours, isn't he?"
A brief pause. "The coins are but holding onto his collar until he comes back to you. Perhaps then... you will remember yourself. You would not wish to disappoint, now would you?" As before, he cants his head slightly at the young man before he continues walking on.
"Much to think on, Masamune, but I wonder if you have it in you to find the answers." His hand falls away from the sword but his stride does not break. Time to leave these mirrors; he has seen what he must and will say what he shall. Like asking for one to come retrieve the little lord whose roar has become so quiet.
I need to invest in angrier icons
Of course, it's supposed to end there. Of course, Masamune won't let that insult go. Even if something way deep down in a tarry black pit of darkness in the far recesses of his mind seems to shake its chains at Matsunaga's assessment, the One-eyed Dragon still has too much respect for his rival to simply let it go. Even if every single thing turned out to be true (what belongs to them, what doesn't, what an action really can mean even when on the outside its a simple gesture), Masamune will not tolerate hearing it spoken by this son of a bitch.
He is indeed without his claws, but he's not without his breath-- the sharp sizzling hiss of electricity is the only thing that offers a hint before there's a chain of lightning hurling itself towards Matsunaga's retreating form. It has only one direction so what doesn't hit its target (or something else on the way) will crash into the wall.
"That's not for your tongue to speak."
no subject
His armor softens the blow but not by much. A hot fire burns as he tilts his head to acknowledge The pain the same way one would a foreign sound. Electricity crackles off his shoulder before it dies away to smoke in the air. He flexes his fingers as blood runs down the tips, flicking bits of red onto the mirrors.
"It seems as though I must once more be an adult and teach a rowdy child that he should not have such tantrums." Unsheathing one of the swords (surprisingly not the one he had been teasing with earlier), he clicks his tongue as he turns to stalk back toward the little tame dragon.
no subject
(It is what keeps her moving in another way.)
However, while her need to drift has her wandering close by, it is her curiosity that has her coming closer and into the room. Voices she had heard filtering from the narrow halls that lead down here, rising in pitch and volume and passion. By the time she's pushed the door open to peek in, she has identified one of the voices.
Imagine her shock to find it belonging to a man she hadn't expected to see attack first.
"S...Stop this!"
She shouts before she thinks to, and though she makes no real intimidating figure, there is, at least, a large iron sword in her hands, aimed rather deftly at the both of them.
no subject
He doesn't seem to care, though, and the element crackling idly about his raised arm and hand, as if simply lying in wait for orders, does not melt away. His words are venomous and piercing. It's definitely a fury of the great beasts. But, this is the same type of fury that his Right-Eye keeps in check, that Masamune gets consumed hopelessly by and knows normally that once he falls to this level he has lost, regardless. Still, there's nothing to suggest that knowledge is presence&mdaah;if it is, the dragon whipping its tail is merely obstinate even to facing its own obvious fate. "Just try it, you—"
The sound of a third party screaming stops Masamune mid-sentence, the undeniable fury that's spurning his tantrum being split apart as realization comes over him. By no means is he suddenly lacking his anger, but what was almost a blind possession (and a very meaningful death wish), but he's at least in control as he spares a glance past Matsunaga to see the girl demanding a ceasefire.
"Olivia..." Shit. He doesn't know if her arrival is a good thing or a bad thing. "...Olivia, leave!" What he does know, however,is that he's not going to assume good graces suddenly when the price for being wrong could very well be her.
no subject
He repeats the name first before he looks over his shoulder toward the tiny flower threatening him with a sword. His eyes travel down the blade as he sees little worth in it, and the one that he has in his own hand is of far better steel. Shifting his eyes back to Masamune, he stares at the dragon turned pet. He lets all of his malicious intent be felt by the tamed child. For the one who carries no claws, for the one who calls out to the little dove, how fast could Masamune move to do anything? Would he soon see the iron sword cut in half? Would he see Hisahide run the girl through, lifting the delicate body up in the air to show just how futile everything is?
No. He won't.
The sword clicks back into its sheath as he turns to face the young miss. There is no worth in beating down a beast that is but straining against its chain. "What an embarrassing scene for such a little flower to come and see." He clenches and unclenches his hand, feeling the blood continue to drip down his fingers. It splatters almost silently against the floor. "To raise your voice so adamantly to stop this... I see no reason why I should not. Why? Because the child has already learned to cool his head. If he continues to draw blows, I would have to answer, would I not?" Even as he stares at her heart-shaped face, this is a question not meant to Olivia but to Masamune.
"You would have to get involved further, would you not?" He nods. Straightening his posture, he calls back behind him. "One of those who has taught you manners, I see. I see. I shall withdraw from this affair before it becomes more... violent, little flower. Well, then." Stepping around the sword pointed at him, he tips his head a little -- is it in apology or farewell? -- as he continues on his way. The knife has been twisted violently within the little dragon and that is a far better injury than what his sword could do. Look, tame dragon... look and know it is but my disinterest that kept your flower safe.
no subject
When the man is gone, walked far enough out of their reach that she can no longer feel the chill of his gaze and his voice in her spine, Olivia releases a deep, shuddering breath. Just like that, whatever adrenaline had been in her body seems to shake out of her, and suddenly her limbs feel like jello. The sword drops to her side like excess weight, but her gaze fixes itself back on Masamune, wide and sharp, despite her nerves.
"Are you hurt?"
no subject
In the meantime, Masamune is staring over her shoulder, perturbed, keeping one arm around her back protectively even while the situation has passed. His nerves are frayed and he is ashamed he let Matsunaga provoke him to do something so stupid, but he is fine. Masamune offers a small shake of his head before swallowing.
"No, I'm fine. Are you?" He knows she wasn't even touched, but the young daimyo is no stranger to the types of feelings that encountering that man result from.
This is bad, though.
It's his own fault, too. Shit.
no subject
(Well. Maybe a little bit for her.)
"I'm fine," she assures him, reaching out to gently pat his shoulder. Still, she leans against him a bit more than one who is supposedly "fine" might, but that may or may not be just an excuse for her to check on his own being. Quickly, her eyes pass over him, trying to asses how much of that blood is his or not.
"Who... was that, Mr. Masamune...?"
no subject
"...Matsunaga Hisahide. A warlord that lost interest in the warring times and no longer involves himself. He 'collects' things now; things of worth or other importance belonging to others that he also considers valuable—'treasures.'"
Creasing his brow, Masamune finally looks down towards her, having pulled her a little closer at her leaning into him rather than trying to get away. He doesn't come off as someone that could give off a very protective feeling to someone in his embrace, but he is surprisingly good at it when he desires to be (or is unconsciously feeling overly protective). Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly as he glances once last time in the direction Matsunaga went in order to make sure the other is truly gone.
"Our piss matches come from mostly the fact he's after my dragon claws and my Right Eye. Or—" The young Date lord closes his eyes in slight annoyance as he reassesses what he just said. "—correction, he said he doesn't care about the swords, anymore, but that means jack-shit since he's still very much interested in the other one.."
no subject
Still, she struggles to think past it, to focus instead on his words. At the mention of his eye, she reaches up tentatively touching the edges of that eyepatch.
"Your eye...? Why would he want that?"