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[Right, Owain...he's heard a little about him, he thinks, but he's drawing a bit of a blank. He's never been the best at remembering the details about people he hasn't met, but he feels a little bad considering this dude is important to Lucina...

When invited to take a look, he does so, glancing over the blades that unsurprisingly appeal to him. He grins, looking over them with obvious approval, while Masquerain seems to settle his little butt on the handle of one such glitter-blade. Scizor looking over the skull embellishments of one, but from his full height. He does not lean in for a closer look, merely stares down at it like one might an ant.]

These are pretty damn sick! Guessin' those are the names of 'em?

[He thinks for a moment, about how Darin named his own weapons, how Lucina named hers...]

Is that pretty typical? People namin' their weapons?

Not really. [which she has to admit with a sheepish laugh. she scoots herself aside so Guzma and company can move about without stepping on anything, herself reaching into the chest to pick up another blade wrapped in cloth.]

Most weapons are just weapons -- the special ones get names. But to Owain...every weapon with a name has a soul, and with that soul, a greater means to defend its wielder. [she says so fondly, uncovering the pristine metal of the rapier she's got. she remembers this one -- it was loaned to Utena for a spar!

that was so long ago...]

Huh...

[He says it but not in a way that's judgmental, in anything...more reflecting of what she tells him.]

Y'know, you probably ain't surprised, but there's Pokémon who are literally souls in swords. Ghost-steel types. And I know our worlds are different and everything, but maybe he was onto something, huh?

[Guzma then looks at the blades with more pronounced scrutiny, like he's looking for something.]

...What do you think? Do you believe what he thought?

Edited 2020-03-30 23:12 (UTC)

I wonder... [it's a thoughtful tone as she wipes dust off the blade, resting it in her cross-legged lap. her eyes wander to Masquerain, wandering through the little maze of sharp edges and fancy hilts.]

There might be something to it. If it gives a person more confidence and trust in their weapon...I think that matters. [she nods over to the corner of the room, where Aurora is propped up like a watchful sentry, the stone in its hilt glinting from light cast from the window.]

I don't know if I've ever heard of a ghost blade, the way you know it, though. But I think imbuing something with a name beyond their utility...can form a kind of bond.

That might be my bias, having been spoiled for brilliant blades with names.

[As Lucina nods to the blade, his eyes follow the gesture to it. Staring it over, before his eyes fall to his treasured stone. The sight of it always stirring up emotions and memories every time he sees it. Her words are nearly lost on him, because his mind is elsewhere, but his brain catches up with his ears not too long after, quickly returning his gaze to her as she talks.]

Yeah? I mean...it ain't much different than, y'know, havin' something like a lucky charm or whatever. So, I feel that. I get it.

Maybe it ain't true, maybe that shit don't do anythin' special, but sometimes little things like imagined bonds or whatever can give you that extra push you otherwise ain't got. Makes sense.

Mm. [she nods, setting the rapier down by some sparkly neon green novelty sword. unholy glittershriek...she...might've just guessed what the name of that one was; she didn't remember them all! Owain's catalog is dense!

after a moment:] You've not much practice with swords, right? I could show you some basic moves, if you'd like.

[even before she's finished saying that, her mouth's pulled into a smile, already pretty interested in the prospect. she wouldn't admit it aloud, but she's kind of dreamed about it? being able to share her craft with the man she's over the moon for...it'd be wonderful!

and...rather hot? as he'd say? gosh.]

Huh?

[He stares at her for a moment, before looking to the swords. He's much more of a fighter with his fists and feet, than using a sword...but he's not exactly opposed, perhaps a little wary.]

Swords ain't really too common of a thing back home—Honedge aside. [His brow furrows as he thinks on it, then shrugs.] Y'know what, sure. I'm down. I mean, I can't think it'd be too hard to get down, right?

[The words of a man fated to end up in the hospital again.]

[honestly? inevitable. but Lucina's not thinking about that future right now: she's thinking about right now, and his answer, however wary, gives her a morale boost.

she uncrosses her legs, standing up, bringing the rapier with her as she steps over some knives to his side, putting a hand on his arm that slides down to his hand in a weirdly seductive way before she puts the rapier hilt in his hand, closing his fingers around it. this is definitely not the first choice of blade for a man like Guzma? but hey. it's just for show!]

It's not so simple...but that's part of the fun. [she rests her head against his shoulder while guiding his wrist up to hold the sword up.] Learning to find an extension to your own power...making it part of your power...hearing it sing when you move it...

[wow Lucina is horny for swords news at 11.]

[Watching her with interest as she approaches, he's caught off guard by the way she runs her hand down his arm. Leaving pidgybumps and a full body tingle in its wake. He's really trying to listen to her, but all he's getting is some sort of euphemism outta this. Even with his hand closed around the hilt, Lucina raising his arm with the sword...he's not thinking about the sword in his hand, but rather Lucina's hand around, well, not a sword made of steel, at any rate.

Her leaning her head on his shoulder, being close like this, and talking the way she is honestly has him confused. Is she trying to tell him about swords, or is she trying to get him riled? Is she riled? He glances to her, trying to catch any sort of read on the situation, but he's a little lost.]

...Yeah? I mean, I've used bats and shit like that before, but I guess that's a lot less, uh, elegant, huh? Ain't no singing from that shit.

[He turns his wrist a little, his eyes back on the sword as he examines it.]

But I think I get what you're meaning. I mean, I've seen how ya handle a blade, and it's pretty awesome.

[she makes a soft, pleased sound at that, tilting his wrist a little to angle the point of the blade. for a second there, she seems a little lost and far away, but in a blink, she's back, smiling over her own shoulder toward Scizor.]

What do you think? Think your trainer has what it takes to deftly wield a blade?

[Guzma doesn't say anything about her far off look, if anything, he quietly admires her. He gets it, in a way. Her passion for these sorts of things, like him with Pokémon battling, and how it's got this freeing effect. Soothing and romantic, in a way.

With attention now on Scizor, the Pokémon had been acting like he was ignoring the two (he wasn't), the mantis tilts his head as he looks at Guzma with the sword. Bringing a pincer up to his chin, his eyes squint as he ponders the question...then he gives a slight nod.]

Tch, you traded your blades for those punchers, and now you want me to do the opposite, huh?

[Scizor gives him a flat look, before turning away to admire the other blades still on the ground. Or, at least it looks like he's admiring them.]

Guess it wouldn't be all bad to learn a thing or two, can't always rely on just my fists. Who knows, maybe someday the fate of the world will fall to a sword fight, and then there'd be me handlin' that shit like a goddamn idiot. Can't have that, can we?

No, we can't. It'd bring me shame as your girl! [she smirks at him before releasing his wrist, letting him hang onto that sword if he wishes while she crouches back down to move some things aside.] Besides, your arsenal can only get better, knowing your way around a proper blade. Who knows? You might end up almost up to snuff to the old berserkers and warmasters; you've already got an edge with that armor of yours.

Last thing I wanna do is make you ashamed of me, heh...

[This may be said in jest, but it's also true. Which is why before he had offered to keep their whole relationship under the rug if it was embarrassing for her to admit to publicly. To him, a measure of his devotion, to people without his problems, a measure of how little he values himself.

He's looking the sword over again, frowning this time, if only because it's...real dinky looking. Not his style at all.]

Yeah, my armor's probably the best thing this place has given me, y'know?

[beat, then a little too quickly:]

I mean like--yanno--besides you of course. Anyway--what was that? Berserkers? Warmasters? I'm likin' the sound of 'em!

[Lucina ducks her head to obscure a broader smile as he hastens to tack on that last complimentary bit; she wasn't even fishing for it, yet he tossed it out so fast! he really is sweet in ways he wouldn't sell himself as, and it's part of what endears him to her still.]

You'd like the whole of them, I'd imagine. [except for the part where they swear fealty to a crowned lord? but look, that's splitting hairs.

while dusting off a dagger:] What I remember is them being very big, hulking sorts who weren't very particular about armor. Instead of riding into battle on warhorses or other mounts, they struck out on foot with nary a breastplate. Their armor was their fighting spirit -- their voices were the loudest, their swings the hardest, and their passion for combat the most overwhelming. Sometimes a berserker could win a duel with just a look, I'm told! Others, a bold word.

[or words...lots of words, when it came to Vaike.

yet even that isn't a slight to him; Lucina speaks with much admiration as she places the weapon back on a folded rag beside its kin.]

Most were renown for wielding massive weapons -- battleaxes, mostly, but also swords almost as tall as me!

Yeah?

[He says with genuine interest, squatting down next to her, watching what she's doing. Careful with the blade in his hand as he settles. His eyes on her more than what she's doing, of course, taking in the subtle signs of happiness that plays out on her features as she talks about them. The grin that crosses his features can't be helped, not with how she describes these warriors that sound a lot like him, and the fondness of her tone warms his heart.

Maybe that's why she can tolerate him, his gruffness, his recklessness...she's used to people like him, fond of them, even. He doesn't even realize how he himself is staring at her with soft, affectionate eyes. Lost in his own thoughts as she almost doesn't retain what she's even saying--until that last bit.]

...Holy shit, as tall as you? I mean, you ain't really all that tall, but that's...

[He trails off as his eyes fall to the sword in his hand, trailing from hilt to the tip to try and take measure of it.]

Edited 2020-04-01 01:32 (UTC)

[with her attention on the weapons, Lucina misses much of that affectionate look being cast her way -- but only for a bit, because his dig on her height has her shooting a pouty look his way.]

I'm not that short either, you know! [even as she protests, her face reddens and her heart jumps at the sight of his expression; it is absolutely ridiculous how quickly she can melt in the face of such a thing, dammit! before she can be utterly done for, she shakes her head and looks away, setting the dagger's sticky note back on the hilt(Small Vengeance of a Darkened Heart with a question mark at the end because honestly...Lucina's not sure if that was the full name or not).]

But yes. Very large bastard swords and the like -- they could cleave huge swaths in enemy armies with a swing!

Maybe I could find a way to replicate them in a way in the Danger Room...

Everyone's short to me, who's the shortest kinda gets a li'l muddy after a while. [He offers uselessly with a smirk.

His eyes eventually slip to the daggers and the other blades again, reading over the names with an amused huff. These names almost seem more like statements, titles, stories...almost. But maybe that's where the soul Owain spoke of comes from. He'd invent a story for them, give it life in that sense, and thus its soul.]

Bastard sword? Is that actually what they're called? I mean, if that's the kinda shit they could do, I can see why the name's apt, heh...sounds like my kinda weapon.

Don't got any here, I'm guessin'.

[He leans forward to look over some of the weapons, reaching out with his free hand to pick at some of the cloths covering the blades and what not.]

No, those are still back in storage. They were too big for the chest!

[she looks over and watches him peruse with a pleased look. it feels nice to share something so dear with someone so dear and have it received well.

when his hand hovers close to the hilt of a spatha:] That one might be easier to start with. A broad flat, stout handle...good for fast and decisive cuts in close quarters, but long enough to pick at someone shying too far from reach. I started Archie on something similar when he asked me to show him the basics.

Tch, Archie?

[He laughs for a second, glancing Lucina's way.]

Imaginin' him weilding a sword--

[He stops short, his amused expression falling almost immediately as his mind quickly reminds of that Archie indeed knows how to use a sword. Knows how well enough to have killed him with Aurora. His face pales for a moment, eyes flicking to the sword in question as the visions come back all too quickly. his throat's suddenly all too dry, and he's trying to collect himself.

Tearing his eyes from the sword, he looks off somewhere else, eyes focused on nothing particular. Even if he doesn't want to ruin the mood, he can't help that dreadful memory coming back--one he felt numb to at the time, but as he becomes more distant to that time without emotions, contrastly he becomes more emotionally affected by the whole thing.

He swallows thickly, before trying to continue:]

I bet, uh, that took...a, uh...a while to teach him. Dude's got no, uh, coordination, huh?

[it doesn't take much at all to notice that change of tone and posture, and it pulls Lucina's attention right away.

she frowns, trying to discern the problem for herself, but...]

...Hey. [she reaches over, putting a hand on his arm.] What's wrong? You look pale all of a sudden.

Hm?

[He tried to act surprised by her question, by her claim. Like nothing was wrong, but he was a poor actor. With a shrug and a shake of his head, he tried to downplay what he was feeling, even if he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.]

M'fine—[No, he knows he shouldn't lie, he just didn't want to delve more into this than what was necessary, but...]—I'll be fine.

[oh, no. she doesn't like that. right away, she feels the compulsion to insist, demand him explain himself, so she may understand and help and...fix...

her expression grows pained for a moment before she shakes her head. she squeezes his arm a little.]

Okay. [trust him, dammit. even if it doesn't feel great!] Just...tell me if I can help. Whenever. Not right now, if you don't want.

[red-faced, she withdraws her hand so she can finish arranging pieces on the floor and then, kneeling over the oak chest and withdrawing some hooks and pegs, about to say one thing when she realizes another.]

I...[wait.] Did I remember to bring a hammer?

[For as much as Guzma loves attention, this isn't something he greatly liked it in. It made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he didn't need that—even if Lucina's the best person to feel that way with. He trusts her, knows she won't strike him with his belly exposed, but he wants things to stay the light, warm mood it had been. Not this uncomfortable gloomy mess his emotions are trying to make it into.

To her offer, he merely nodded, not really finding his voice for the moment as he tries to push the thoughts and intrusive memories and emotions back down. Not the healthiest approach, but he'd rather it in the moment. With her hand removed from him, the spot feels dramatically cold bereft of the warmth her touch gave him.

Running his free hand through his hair, he took that second to collect himself—till her question hit his ears. He peers past his arm, hand stilled in his messy white hair as he stares at her like a Deerling in headlights.]

Uh—shit, I dunno. [He glances to Scizor.] But if ya didn't, Scizor can probably help.

[That gets a huff from the Mantis Pokémon who had been watching them through squinted eyes.]

[at that huff, Lucina looks over at the bug, smiling apologetically.]

If he wouldn't mind... Honestly, with all of your help, I can get these set up pretty quickly and be done with it.

[while twiddling a hook in-between her fingers, she looks back over with the same expression toward Guzma.]

What do you say? An hour or so of hanging up deadly weapons before deciding on dinner?

[Meeting Lucina's gaze for a long moment, Scizor then looked away with a stubborn stoicism, but he did nothing to deny the request. For Guzma, he brings that hand from his hair to push on his knee as he stands, nodding.]

Yeah, I'm down. Lets get this place lookin' dope, and then we can get some grub. Sounds like a plan.

[Looking down at Lucina, he forces a smile—though it's a lot easier to do when she's smiling at him like that. His gaze doesn't linger, however, because he's then looking to Masquerain who has...fallen asleep. He quirks an eyebrow.]

Uh...

[Well, there's the first roadblock, huh?]

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