slams on in with a voicetest

[notsmall]

i. forging

[he would have to admit, being brought to life again felt a little weird. Mostly because it was hot, overbearingly so, as a blacksmith battered him into shape with whatever tools and magic were used in this time. Even so, once he was formed and ready to go, the discomfort seemed to shed, giving way for Iwatooshi to actually be himself again.

Soon after- with loud footsteps and a few painful-sounding thuds when he hits his head or shoulders against small door frames and hallways- the Citadel now has the unwelcome burden of a new naginata stomping around.]

Hey, hey! Where is my new master?? I didn't step on them, did I?

[he twists around, laughing and glancing at the floor and the bottom of one of his boots. ...and hey, how did he even get out of the smithy without meeting his Saniwa first?]

ii. repairs

'Sjust a scratch! A bug bit me or something!!

[and there it was again, the loud voice of Iwatooshi booming from the repair room as he is poked with antiseptics and plastered with bandages. It wasn't that he liked getting hurt, or even went looking for trouble without his Master's orders... he just doesn't really take much notice when he suffers heavy damage.]

I'll be fine-- hey! That stings! [he grits his teeth, one eye closed tight as a cut on his cheek is swabbed clean of blood and dirt.]

Comments

ii!!

[swordsitter]

[ haru, being quite small compared to the spirit, is practically in iwatooshi's lap to take care of his injuries. he gently pinches the naginata's ribs at the complaint, usually stoic expression twisted into a small frown. ]

If you weren't so reckless, you wouldn't be here right now, Iwa-san. [ most of haru's swords get their names shortened like that eventually. it's just a sign of how comfortable with them the little saniwa is.

bracing his free hand against iwatooshi's uninjured shoulder, he gently finishes cleaning the blood away from the cut on his cheek, slim finger brushing carefully over it once he's satisfied. ] .. It shouldn't need stitches or anything, at least. Once I get to your vessel, it looks like everything will heal right up.

[notsmall]

[the large sword jerks at the pinch, his face twisting into a grimace that seems to be trying- and failing- to stifle both a snorting laugh and a snarl. Maybe he was kind of ticklish, and maybe that tiny squeeze caught him off guard.]

'M not reckless... [he pouts, tilting his cheek in resignation to the repairs.]

We won, right?! That's what matters!