130bladeworks | corruption au meme

corruption au meme

CORRUPTION AU MEME

The Sword Army pursues the Retrograding Army through history, encountering familiar settings and reliving old memories. Though strong, with every change in time and setting, the swords dread the old memories. As they fight to preserve history as it is meant to be, the Sword Army must steel their hearts and resist temptation lest they come to fight themselves…

A popular fan theory is that the enemy swords you fight are actually your swords from an alternate universe who wished to change history. For this meme, feel free to make up your own starters or use one of the prompts below. Remember to state if your character is corrupted, not, or if you have no preference.

PROMPT IDEAS

1. How could you let this happen? They wanted to be left alone, their mood was poor, and maybe you should have noticed the signs but now that you have, it’s too late. They can’t stop these thoughts in their head and something in their soul has turned dark and ugly. Is it too late? Maybe you can get through to them… if not, are you ready to draw your sword?

2. Possession. Even the smallest trace of doubt can attract them— evil spirits. Once the dark spirit has latched on to your soul, it takes over and consumes you. Maybe the possession is gradual or maybe it happens suddenly. All you know is that everyone has regrets and anyone can doubt… this could happen to anyone.

3. Cry Wolf. We fought the same battles and shared the same meals together so it was only natural that we would be considered allies and friends. The fateful moment approaches and suddenly it is revealed: One of you is not a true friend. There is a traitor among you.

4. Becoming your own enemy. Your mission is to go back in time and let things happen as they were meant to be but their fall into despair was never supposed to happen, right? And so you went back in time to prevent their misfortunes but you keep failing again and again until, this time, you think you’ve got it. This time, you’ll be able to save your friend - but will you be able to save yourself too?

5. Reborn again. When destroyed in battle, the sword disappears only to return again anew. You can’t choose the fate you’re born with though and this time, someone has returned… from the wrong side.

INSPIRATIONS

There are some corruption fanart floating around Pixiv, as well as a FST made by Aki (

fletrir). Other canons with similar themes to this meme are first and foremost Puella Magi Madoka Magica, as well as Shin Megami Tensei and other demonic-theme heavy series.

Original premise and coding was done by

eskimo, image taken from here.

Threaded | Flat

CRY WOLF - c̹͍̥͔̯ͧ̐o̴͙̗̮̹͊ͧ͘ͅr͙̜͎͎̣͎͛̀ͮͬ̄̃̊ͨ͆͡ͅŔ͉͙͓̤͙̯̠̍̀͂́͢͟u̴̮͍̫̱̼̲͈ͤ͂̄͆ͤ̚͡ͅP̵̻͇͈̺̰͔̫͎̅̍ͬͪ̈̉ͩ̕̕ͅT̛͈̠̮̳͚̙͙̩͛ͮ͊̀͊̈́̀͘ͅḛ̴͔̤͇͕̟̫̔̐̑̏͑d̵̜̮̺̰͉̮̽͒

[They've fought side by side for so long now that it almost feels as natural as breathing. Midare knows the formations they'll take, the strategies they'll use, and who will cover for whom if it seems like their foes are targeting any one of them in particular. He knows how the ebb and flow of battle will cause them to raise or lower their guard accordingly.

Right now, at this moment, they're about to win. The enemy leader is vulnerable - he can get his blade in just the right place for a fatal strike. He knows it. His comrades expect it.

He lunges, but not for the swords ahead of them. The tip of his blade is pointed straight at their party's leader and his eyes are wild with an unrestrained, manic glee.]

REBORN AGAIN - UNCORRUPTED
[It's almost always an exciting thing when their saniwa goes to the forges. It means new comrades (new people to do his work for him!), maybe even sometimes getting the chance to see another of his brothers, and it's another step forward on the path to putting things right. The stronger their forces become, the sooner they can put an end to all this.

It's painful, to think about the people who have strayed from their path. Once this war is over maybe they can be laid to rest.

But, for right now, the saniwa is finishing up in the forge. Midare is, of course, crowding around, ready to greet the newcomer with a cheerful smile.]

Hel—

[His eyes go wide when he sees exactly who the "newcomer" is. It's not a newcomer at all. It's someone who shouldn't have been here at all.

His hands are shaking, but his smile is frozen in place.]

You...

OTHER
[Something else you'd rather do? Hit me up!]

[2 - corrupted yay]

[Ichigo never truly saw it coming in the end, had no idea that the small doubts in his mind would attract a spirit evil enough to sink it's claws into him. For the evil spirit it was almost easy in a way. The sword would sometimes think back to taller times, of what went on before Hideyoshi had reforged the blade not to make it stronger but to simply match his short stature. Not that it was a hassle, Ichigo knew that sometimes things happened and despite them being of a heinous nature sometimes they worked out for the better. Had he not been reforged he would not have found himself where he was now after all. Yet it was the odd occasion that would allow the evil spirit to latch on to Ichigo without the sword noticing, at most he would think it was a tired day if anything at all.

To Ichigo it had merely been a niggling sense of apprehension when they had neared Osaka Palace, enough that some others would be able to see a trace of it on his face. This was where the flames had consumed everything in it's path, destroying with ease those that it came across. This was something to brace himself against; the past was uncomfortable but it couldn't hurt him in the end right? Memories were just memories. And in that aspect Ichigo was right; it wasn't the past or the battle that allowed the spirit to well and truly twist him in the end. No, it was a nearby tantou caught up in the fray, not fast enough to avoid that final strike before shattering in front of Ichigo's eyes. The past would hurt but never as much as seeing a little brother fall on the battlefield and knowing he couldn't reach them in time to protect them was like a knife to the heart.

The tachi kneels where the tantou fell, dismay written across his face clear as day. That had been a little brother and now.... Swords could be reforged, but the grief was still suffocating, Ichigo suddenly unable to swallow around the lump in his throat as he inadvertently leaves himself wide open for the evil spirit to finally take its hold completely. Those closest will feel it first, almost as if the air pressure has doubled and suddenly become heavy enough for discomfort. And then the screaming starts, a sound full of rage and frustration as Ichigo starts to succumb to the possession that has slowly been taking over.]

[Wildcard]

[Feel free to throw anyone in this direction if they're corrupted or whatever you'd like.]

Edited 2015-04-29 08:30 (UTC)

1 (not corrupt)
["Is it too late" is probably a question that's gone through Kashuu's head more than a few times by now. Berating himself for not noticing just how deep a dark mood ran won't get him anywhere, and he's not usually inclined to self-flagellate over those types of things anyway... Still, there's some hesitation in him as he pads his way through the halls of their base, looking for one door in particular. Just how much had he missed? How long has it been going on? Maybe he's just being paranoid - it's been a while since he's been able to rest well, after all. He can be sensitive. It wouldn't be the first time he's been overly-attuned to snappishness.

As he finally reaches his destination, he puts those thoughts and concerns on hold with a somewhat pointed decisiveness. They have no place here yet. Instead, in his usual cavalier manner, he raises a hand and knocks against the wood beside the sliding door frame.]

Heeey, you still in there? Open up.

2 (corrupt)
[Dwelling on negativity isn't something that Kashuu usually does in a conscious way. It infiltrates his reasoning instead, coloring his day to day decisions and his reflection. Perhaps that's why he doesn't seem to notice this subtle shifting at first - it's a very soft difference. A little more agitation, a few seconds of dwelling, a number of "off" days in a row; not unusual, not unusual.

Some may disagree. For a change that seems to be growing more pronounced by the day, Kashuu will easily shake off concerns again and again. Just tired, y'know? It was a tough battle. Give him a sec and he'll be fine. At the same time, others may have noticed that there's a new and bizarre distance present, no matter how much his continued clinginess is kept up. A disconnect - something amiss.

Late in the evening, continuing that trend, Kashuu can be found in the courtyard by the still pond. He's unusually silent, but he's been like that for a while now, hasn't he?]

your pick
[Hit me with whatever you want!]

2. (Corrupted)
( The most likely to move forward, he seemed like the least likely to get stuck dwelling on the past and it was true. He was never one to get hung up on things that had already passed and was always one of the first to charge head first into a new time, a new age, a new life, new future, new future. His mind was sharp, his spirit was clean, and his heart was strong.

... But maybe not strong enough. When had it happened? Ah, perhaps when they went back to Kyoto... the night was dark, the quarters were closed, and for a moment he had faltered. The time was wrong but the conditions had been the same. He had been useless then, what if the same thing-- no, he would never let that happen to him again. The thought was quickly rid of but a door had been open, an invitation made. He'd gotten through that mission just fine, or so he had thought. He had only been a little tired but so had everyone else.

After that night, something had begun to change. His aim was off, there was something in his eye. He'd tried to focus on his sword skills instead but his eyes couldn't keep up with his opponents moves. Gradually, it became worse and until his losses began to outweigh his victories. Had he always this weak and useless...?

His spirit not yet broken, today he can be found in the practice hall, his blade drawn and practicing his swings. Shouldn't he be using one of the practice swords...? Hmm. When he senses that he isn't alone, he stops but doesn't turn to greet you. Instead, he demands flatly, )

Fight me.

Wildcard
( Write your own starter and I'll gladly have not!corrupt Mutsu give a genki shounen speech that will surely bring u back. )

1. - uncorrupted

[Something is wrong.

He doesn't think much on what is going on around him in this world, but sometimes, a sign happens. There are good signs like a breeze going through you to soothe your spirit or waking up in the morning feeling rejuvenated like a god. And then there are the bad signs. Ones that makes you feel tense, ones that show signs of pure despair and destruction in the air, a warning from the gods themselves.

It's a bad sign. There are bad signs around him.

Even if he always done his purification rituals throughout citadel every day, even if the Saniwa brought him here to help clear the impurities from this world, sometimes it wasn't enough to stop evil from slipping inside to corrupt around him. When it was enough to snap Taroutachi's attention, enough to make him worry and on-guard, that is a grave sign that is something is wrong. It's also a sign that could be dangerous, even making the blade of the gods' senses more aware. He walks through every hall, every passageway, looking for these evils. How dare they, attempting to corrupt his comrades or even corrupting them completely away from his sight. He is here on this earth to bring peace and being idle is not an option.

When he approaches you regardless of where you are around the base or on the field, he will keep his distance, but the grip on his blade is tight and his eyes look down on you with careful study.]

I need to speak with you.

wildcard.

[throw me anything and taroutachi is gonna purify the shit out of you if you need it. :')]

It's not easy to focus when there's a flower coming out of your eye.

He knows what they are. Higanbana, flowers of the beyond - red spider lilies, symbols of death. And it disturbs him, how they just manage to appear in the fields during sorties, dancing in the iron-tinged breeze. There were never many of them, perhaps just a single bloom amongst a sea of green, but still there nevertheless.

(Who knows? They might be alive, too - spirits of the dead shadowing his every move, red as the blood of iron in his veins and the blood of humans on his hands. He would believe it, for he is no different - a being borne of an object infused with the hopes and thoughts of man.)

The humans said that if these flowers bloom along the road, you would meet someone that would be parted from you for ever. And he's wondered why, of who he would lose - but things seemed to be fine, were fine, would be fine. Everyone was happy, or as happy as they could be. Many of them carried emotional weight of their own, but the sword spirits had each other. Old comrades, new friends, support. Happiness. Until he realizes that they were not the ones he would lose. The one that would be lost... was himself.

Why else would he be given a second life in an imperfect form? The right side of his vision was darkened for ever, a maligned scar in its place. He had thought little of it, pushing it aside to devote himself to duty. An eye is a small price to pay for a second life, after all - but Death is a stern gatekeeper, especially if your kind has been cheating him out of his pay. Even demons have souls.

He doesn't even notice it, actually, not when he intentionally hides his scars. So it is only when the lily blooms that he is forced to take note - because the blackened half of his sight is now interspersed with red streaks. Is it a day off? Perhaps, most likely, because it's what he had written on the planner pinned to his wall. One stroke of luck, then, as he raises one hand to his face, feeling the sickeningly soft petals of treachery.

You might come to his room asking for him, because it's already nine in the morning and nothing has been done - a swift sign that something is definitely wrong. Or you may come across the trail of blood left across wooden floors, leading out from the swords' quarters and out into the fields. The bloodstains only get larger, because a sword is capable of bleeding far, far more than a human can. It ends only at the river that curves past the Citadel, where a certain familiar form can be seen, a red spider lily drenched in blood and tossed carelessly into the grass beside him.

(You can't see his face.)

> Approach?

Edited 2015-04-29 09:19 (UTC)

Corruption - Best Served Cold
[Small, quiet Sayo never really talked about his past, but both the Saniwa and perhaps most swords would be aware of it. The tale of his old, old master's slow, waiting revenge that granted him both fame and a lord's attention. He spoke little of his past, only referencing it in his quiet and confused talks with the Saniwa.

But in the army, this army, Sayo seemed to be doing well. He have a purpose and although the Saniwa doesn't have anyone he wish to have revenge on, Sayo can fight and go on expeditions. The army have enough resources, thus there was no fear of him being sold off (again) for money.

Small and quiet Sayo was not that talkative, the small and subtle changes can be hard to detect. But after they're sent to their latest mission--preventing the Retrograding Army from stalling Mitsunari Ishida at Osaka Castle--that Sayo's darkened mood seems to be...more noticeable.

And attempted to break away from the group to go towards the castle, uncaring if his short blade cut others by accident.]

Is It Too Late? [Uncorrupted]
[Sayo knew he's inept at social cues and tact. Yet, the dark and heavy atmosphere in the air was noticeable to him. The darkness that lies in one's spirit is familiar to him and sometimes, he wonders if he's mistaken. Seeing things, but no one seems to be saying anything.

He quietly approached them, to the sword who felt as dark as him. Are they haunted by the voices of the past as well? Sayo was silent, before he spoke.]

...Is something...bothering you...?

WILD CARD
[Give me your best shot!]

Cry Wolf. (Uncorrupted)

To live for centuries is to see ages go by. To see today's banners fall tomorrow and new ones springing up in their place like grass. To see children take on the seat of honour in the council rooms behind the family crest until their last breath is stolen by illness or blade. It's surprisingly fast, how fire can turn ornate gold-leaf paintings and wooden foundations to ashes. How Sanjou Munechika places his body in the water and smiles, and just like water, years flow like river water.

He is born again from the fires, and the saniwa smiles. He is looked upon as a sword, one of the most beautiful, but still a weapon.

It was how the saniwa saw the rest as well. A zealous person dedicated to fighting the war of time. Mikazuki's comrades never forgot the fact that they were fighting a war, as per the words of the one that gave them life.

When squads of six left, it was not often when four or three would return. Repairing was a necessity, rather than affection. The same faces would die and are remade fast, and only a few figures amongst the squads know the cycle.

The few figures dwindle, when one of the few would turn against their master. One-man rebellions start and end fast and violently, like a bolt of lightning. They would see a monster, and a few slashes turns steel bone to dust.

The next sortie was to Atsukashiyama. Only the most experienced were chosen, and Mikazuki is prepared. Advice saying that it was too risky was ignored, and his fellow squad members were prepared to bid farewell to their friends in the citadel.

That's when he realizes his mind had managed to stay somewhat sharp with time. A single unthinkable idea comes to his head. Being the leader, he arranges the time for a war council. An hour after the saniwa sleeps.

You can find him on the porch, looking up at a sharp crescent moon.

WILD CARD

Hit me with anything!

Edited 2015-04-29 11:16 (UTC)

1: uncorrupted

It might have been slow, but Futsu-no-Mitama's finding himself starting to open up to everyone here. While he'd never call himself the most socially adept of them all, he's at least savvy enough to notice the change in the atmosphere around someone.
And he's worried. These are the first beings he'd ever been able to call true friends and allies, and who saw him as one right back... He cares for them, wanting to protect each and every one.

So: here's a big, rough odachi, giving a friendly smile -

"Hey, man. Ya doin' okay?"

2: corrupted

The thoughts trickle in slowly, working their insidious way through his mind. His own impulses, or some outside influence, he could never tell.

What's he even doing here? Among - among these mundane blades, crafted by human hand alone (never mind the time he'd spent in the forges himself, that doesn't count...) No. He doesn't belong among them, obeying the orders of some lowly sage. He should be by an Emperor's side, if not a god's, if not his creator's...

But how can he even leave this place? Is he truly as trapped here as he was in the shrine's vaults?

Futsu-no-Mitama paces the citadel's hallways, tense, looking around at this beautiful prison with a frown.

No. He has to find a way to be free - truly free, for once.
He won't be held back.

3: wildcard?

Edited 2015-04-29 10:50 (UTC)

2. - yeah he's corrupted as fuck.

[For someone who goes on and on about his blacksmith along with ranting about the counterfeit swords that dare to share his name, Hachisuka does his best to move forward towards a better future. He is a legitimate blade of the Hachisuka family, who ruled the Tokushima domain and was passed down from lord to lord. He was kept in private collections, he bares the actual signature of Kotetsu on him. He never cared for rumors, but whispers became clearer in his mind. Lately, when he passes by certain people, they usually have their back turns and generally ignore him. That is usually nothing, but are they talking about him? How his ego brags that he is one of the few real Kotetsu blades and not a mere copy? Are they calling him fake when all he is doing is that he is telling the truth? Are they calling him a fool for choosing not to associate anyone that shares his name without appropriate appraisal that they are actually family? They dare to call him a fake?

What nonsense! Of course he's real!

He is real. He is real. He is r̵͎̮͍̞̫͓̳̭͕̳̳̱̥̓̃ͭ̈́̍e̾ͧͦ̓ͯ̇̉ͯ̄̚̕҉̦̪̺̗̼͉ȧ̡̹̻̖͍̹̯̤̦͎̣̱̓ͣ̏̆͂ͤͮ̓̌͂͠ͅl̫͚͎͈̯͓͚̲̟̫͓͉̯͇͇̖ͤͤ̒ͧͪ̀͝

He paces back and forth in his room, blade in hand as he studies every single inch of it while mumbling words underneath his breath. The quality, the handle, the detail, everything is real, he is real, and people dare call him fake behind his back?!

It hits him. He needs to go back to stop those smiths who dare copy his good name, ruin it with giving him false brothers. But first, his blade. He continues to study it, sometimes a quick "practice" strike in the air. He doesn't care who can hear him. He's set.]

wildcard.

[obvious wildcard options for both corrupted and non-corrupted, go nuts.]

POSSESSION

[Aizen couldn't have pinpointed exactly when it happened. He's not normally someone who could waver so easily. A bright tanto who always says he is blessed by Aizen Myou'ou, a deity of wisdom and passion. An old soul who acts the age he looks because there's so much to look forward to. He constantly asks for festivals for this reason too.

But then it happened. And at first it didn't feel like anything, but a heaviness in his very self. And after each grueling battle, he wondered if it would ever end (would it ever end? Did Aizen even question this in the beginning? He used to take it all by stride). The more he wondered, the more he despaired. There's so much that needed to be done, and they kept fighting but nothing is changing and--

This world is ugly, it is not worth celebrating.

He could fix it.

And then one day, drags a beaten and bloody body (who is it? No one will know) and drops it where he stands). The first one. He is Aizen Kunitoshi, the sword bearing the mark of Aizen Myou'ou. He will impart the wisdom of old and make everyone despair so that they will learn to love life passionately.]

I'll start it, alright? I'll start this festival.

2 - Possession
[At first, nothing seemed wrong. It wasn't wrong in the way that the others who had been taken before him went wrong. The others had begun to slink off by themselves, their moods seemed to change like a dark veil had been pulled over their souls. Dotanuki should have recognized the signs himself, but with the battles growing harder and fewer of his comrades coming back, the blood frenzy made the changes easy to explain away.

The lightness in his step and the way he started to see all the other swords as opponents was only because they were in battle so often. Sometimes it was difficult to switch between the two, especially for a sword that was made for hardship but grew up surrounded by peace. These battles, the blood, the action - it was what he had always craved and now it lay in his lap every time he set foot out of the citadel.

Besides, it was natural to smile every so often at seeing another sword come back limping, bandages wrapped tight around their wounds, wasn't it? It was just proof that they had done their job. They were tools of war and what good was a tool if it wasn't used to the point of breaking? The idle glee at seeing fellow swords dancing with the death as they were meant to do was normal, right? It wasn't strange for him to greet the others as they came back, delighting in proof of their barely won battles. The doubts he'd had before about their ability to save history felt like they belonged to someone else. It was beautiful they way everyone bled.

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to make them bleed a little more. A simple training exercise gone wrong - no one would blame him or even think twice. He was, after all, a war machine.]

Hey. Spar with me.

[wildcard]
[Dotanuki can't purify, but he'll train you so hard that the demon will give up and leave to escape his crazy.]

Becoming Your Own Enemy/How Could You Let This Happen Combo (Corrupt)

It's their duty, isn't it? To keep fighting, to keep going back, to stop the Retrograde Army from changing everything, to make sure that the flow and ebb of history stays as it's supposed to. Imanotsurugi has been there since the beginning, fighting and jumping and destroying the enemy, again and again. It's been a long time, a long fight and he's never seemed to flag before now, no matter how arduous the task or how long it's taken (well, there's been some good-natured complaints from time to time, but that's totally his right).

But now he's finally become tired. A little listless. He's spent some of his time hanging around the citadel, just watching the world go by. He's been a bit slower on the field of battle and even his sparring matches haven't been all that enthusiastic. He hasn't even bothered playing all that much, which is unusual for the normally cheerful and active tantou. It's his own fault, really. He keeps thinking too much.

Mostly he thinks about his old master. Revisiting the old battlefields has started to get to him - the people who slew his master (who forced him to kill Yoshitune) are dead. But - why are they here? Why are they enforcing this version of events? Why can't he go back and change it - make sure that his master lives, that Yoshitune's life is longer and happier? They're not supposed to, he knows. But that doesn't make any sense. At least not right now. Nothing bad can happen if they change things for the better. Right?

Imanotsurugi frowns and cups his chin in his hands, staring out over the citadel grounds. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this - he flops onto his back with a little sigh and shuts his eyes.

"But - it would be nice to see him again..."

Wildcard!

Choose your own adventure, etc.

(2 - Of course he got corrupted over poems)

[It could happen to anyone. Kasen has long since burned the shape of the enemy armies into his eyes - it was simple enough to do for one so inundated with their elegances, poems and stories and tea ceremonies keeping his mind sharp as his blade, but even he would admit this fact isn't one you need those things to understand. All of them, from himself to the lowliest member of their army, know perfectly well what could become of them. It only takes the smallest doubt, an ounce of desire lighter than a breeze... but even knowing he is at risk as they all are, Kasen feels safe. He neither mourns nor resents his master, and in this citadel, surrounded by the glory of spring and (fortunately, it seems like the Saniwa knows what's good for them) barred from horsekeeping duty, he is at peace.

However.

However, glorious or no, this spring has gone on too long. Kasen Kanesada has exhausted every poem in his mind, every word at his fingertips, and it is infuriating. What he needs, even more than Tadaoki, even more than to save any person, is a new subject. He thinks little intrusive thoughts sometimes, of how the ribs of the chest might resemble a flower if allowed to bloom like one, or how the spine was nothing but a stem for the brain. The body is so charmingly organic. The urgency in his own voice when these thoughts rise to the surface disturbs him more than the thoughts themselves, but he knows better than to force them from his mind. It is healthier this way, he thinks, for his hands and ink and paper, if not for him.

But it isn't enough. He locks himself away in his room to remove the excess stimuli, but it isn't enough. He's quieter on the battlefield, more methodical, watching intently the spatter of blood and the way they cut their swaths through the Retrograding Army, but it isn't enough. The image in his mind isn't vivid enough. He needs more.

The idea improves the longer he allows it to sit. The Saniwa will fix them even if he breaks them, and the cause was so just. He is, for once, not immediately concerned with cleaning himself upon arriving home. Instead he turns to whoever is closest, sword or Saniwa (the thought of who will fix the Saniwa when he breaks them is lost to him now), with his usual smile.]

Excuse me.

(Wildcard)

[Uh. ANYTHING ELSE YOU'D LIKE TO DO goes here.]

Edited 2015-04-30 10:10 (UTC)

STARE INTO THE ABYSS aka the corruption process

[ Darkness changes all it touches, why should the swords brought back by one with demon blood, half or not, be any different? It's unexpected--Yua was an orphan, but unmistakably the child of an onmyouji bloodline. Hidden beneath the gentle spiritual aura that permeated the citadel as she grew into her powers was a dark aura that quietly whispered and called out to the darkest depths of every single inhabitant. The question of falling, and spiralling into an ultimately unreturnable state is not a question of how, but when.

Yua's never had a family, so she thinks of the swords as hers. Older brother, younger brothers, a motherlike figure, a grandfatherlike one--so this is what having a family is like. This is what happiness is like. She's happy to have chosen to come here, but.

But she knows things have to end. Things always have to end. When it ends...she'll be alone again. She doesn't want to be alone again.

The despair and negativity she hides only increases the pressure of muted dark energy already inside the citadel. It doesn't take long before she notices a subtle change in some of her swords. They act strangely, but claim not to be any different, leaving others to agree or disagree with her observations.

It's strange. Yua doesn't understand it, but she sees no reason to distrust her family. She continues to smile at her swords in spite of their behaviours, repairing, cleaning, welcoming them home...never once considering that the mindset of her swords might have changed. ]

AND IT STARES BACK aka corruption is not an end, but a new beginning

[ She doesn't want to say goodbye.

The Retrograding Army is weakening. The Kebbishi are losing. They're winning, for the sake of humanity, for the sake of the world.

Yua knows she should be happy, but she can't be, not when she knows everything will be over soon. Returning to her everyday life, without the family she's grown to know and love...She doesn't want this.

Rather than say goodbye...she wants to end it all.

It's with this simple thought she smiles so sweetly, looking no different, at the sword standing in front of her. ]

I have a request... Will you listen to it?

(WE ALL FALL DOWN) (it's time to end it all)

[ How many swords have fallen, how many swords have broken? Yua stands barefooted on the side of the Retrograding Army, irises once a gentle brown now a harsh blood red, clothes once clean now ragged and torn. How many of her family has she brought to her side, how many of them has she lost?

It seems, for a moment, that her mind returns when she faces the last of her Sword Army. ...Her Sword Army. Hers. Despair grips her, shakes her, but darkness is still in control.

Please, her lips barely move as she mouths the words, kill me. ]

WILDCARD

[ Write me anything! Or leave me a prompt & I can start something! ]

Edited 2015-04-30 20:17 (UTC)

Possession

[ This world could not be saved. It could not be filled with peace or lack of fighting. He could not save it and it was this regret that made him turn, made his soul weaken and blacken from the very first day. If he could not save it he would destroy it. Destroy it to save it from itself and everything that was wrong with it. Too many times he has seen his fellow swords hurt and in agony, fighting a useless war that would only end in bloodshed. And what were they saving it for? He has seen the suffering his two brothers faced at the hands of their "masters" did they really warrant saving after all that?

Blood. Blood. That is all he can see now. Nothing was ever good enough, was it? Nothing ever would be so why bother anymore? The freedom he felt by giving in felt amazing. It was truly something he should have done long ago. Now he could act instead of sitting idly by with his grievances and half hearted ideals. He was done talking and trying to be the one who strayed from the fight.

He will be walking the halls at some point. Sword brandished and at his side, his usual impassive face remains the same mostly. But there's a cold, harsh, wickedness in his eyes that wasn't there before. ]

ii - possession

[It was like a tiny thread in the beginning. Something loose on his sleeve, something which only required a little tugging at. Something to be picked up and discarded, maybe mended if the thread was too long.

Instead, it felt as if the thread had snagged, caught on something and slowly, steadily, everything was beginning to unravel. It was as if a caterpillar had crawled under his own skin and was beginning to transform, using all sense, reason and rational thought to turn it into something else.

Making space for everything irrational.

There were little hitches. Staring at another sword's back, idly thinking about how easy it would be to stab them and part their soft flesh and tear the sword body apart. To take those shards and squeeze them until they were part of his flesh and bones because sometimes, Kogitsunemaru feels hungry.

So very, very hungry.

And even when he digs his sharp canines into his lower lip to struggle and fight for rationality, it doesn't fill the pit in his stomach or stop the monster eating away at his brain.

Lately, his hands don't feel like his own. It feels normal now, to curl them slightly, the sharp nails ready to rake at anyone who approaches. Something else is beginning to move down his arms, guide them. But isn't it really him who is moving his arms and his legs?

Those are his thoughts except they are not. Except when they are and when the monster is whispering into his ear and covering Kogitsunemaru's eyes so there is nothing he can hear but the words-

The other day, he caught himself laughing like the enemies they fight, a mad little sound that was more like a wailing screech.

And today, he sits in the darkness of his room, his sword body resting on his knees, unsheathed.

The blade is dark and looks like it is rusting, rotting away.

There is no fixing this.

He is a monster.]

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