itsnotzura | TEXT&VOICE MESSAGE POST ❧ gargleblasted

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TEXT&VOICE MESSAGE POST ❧ gargleblasted

❝we can play charades when there is nothing to say❞

❝Testing, one, two, three. Testing, one, two, three. Testing, one, two...

...Elizabeth? Elizabeth! I don't think it's working.❞

[FUNCTIONS; TEXT&VOICE + NOTE&ACTION]

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[he squeezes Zura's hand, quick and firm, just before releasing it entirely and shifting away from the smaller man]

I think I'm done. You?

[Katsura doesn't wonder if the point has hit home; he knows it has, and that Gintoki needs to come to terms with it on his own, for better or worse]

[ (of course, if it does come to worse, he'll probably just dunk the idiot's head underwater until it comes up better) ]

[but for now, he simply feels warmed (by water and sword callouses alike), and grunts his agreement, shifting up likewise]

[it's the evening of October Tenth when a knock comes at the door of 4-2, and whether or not Katsura is home will undoubtedly carry some weight of interest to the one-eyed samurai rapping his knuckles]

[it's been some time coming, and they need to have a talk -- but then, that's always the case, isn't it?]

[it isn't this time; the creep of Katsura up behind the other man is silent, but war-brothers do have a habit of knowing one another's sounds, even (especially) the noiseless ones]

[his blade is not drawn, not yet, but the dual strikes aimed at legs (sweeping) and throat (debilitating) are just as finely edged]

[even with one ear cloaked, he hears a shff of fabric and pulls away just in time to not be tripped or choked, merely greeting grazes (as he had the time a blade had cut through sepia-stained pages)]

[his blade is, however, and in one turning swoop, offers to lop Katsura's head off without reservation]

[and without a second of panic involved (they'd been burnt out on battle-panic and fear for their lives long, long ago), Katsura brings his scabbard up to block the blade, with plenty of space between his neck and the gleam of silver]

[his eyes are hard as oak, and unsheathes his blade as he presses the offense in the cramped hall]

[knife to knife, the lost samurai seems to relish equally in the clang of metal and Katsura's stern, distant gaze]

[they're both too skilled, both too knowledgeable about the other's movements, both too lost in Purpose and Protection]

[imparting distance, he gives a sneer]

Is this about the glasses boy?

Zura!! Do you know where I can get lots of sheet metal?

It's not Zura, it's Katsura.

The hangar would likely provide an enormous amount of sheet metal at a very frugal price.

[ FREE ]

P.S. Fiberglass is okay too! \(^_^)/

I tried taking apart one of the ships but they wouldn't let me!!

An unforeseen circumstance...

Perhaps, with a doctor's note, they will be persuaded!

Only the most immoral, stone-hearted bastard would ignore the instructions of a well-penned doctor's note.

It's not P.S., it's Katsura. ||||/(_▽_)＼||||

I'll have Sadaharu write me one right now!

Leader, that is improper.

What should my illness be!

You should address him as 'Doctor Sadaharu,' if he has worked hard to become a PhD.

A deficiency of steel sheets?

That's perfect!

Of course, they might question as to where and why you became so scared sheetless.

Hn?

[a calmly hummed response, as if steel doesn't glint between them]

You forfeited your right to question me for infomation after you broke our agreement, Takasugi.

[no more Shinsuke, nor the mournful tone of a bad history shared; nothing but the cold snap of a winter that isn't numb with ice, but fierce and dangerous with it, a promise of ripping hail and skin-scraping winds]

[he paces forward, still pressing the offense, although it's obvious he isn't using his full strength -- this is a greeting of warning, just as Takasugi had delivered]

[as much is made clear as when he leans closer, over blade and boundary (enough to smell that fetid stink of drug and drink his ex-comrade carries with him like a traveling cloak)]

You won't go near them again.

[oh, he would love this side of Katsura, were he only a little more mad about it]

[his defenses are not kept high, but always loose -- he wasn't the stone wall, he wasn't the immovable boulder, he was and always will be the suicide bomber, the barely-clad bloody last assault, the sweep-in-and-slaughter force]

[the youngest of the three of them, and the one who would've died first]

Oho, so certain. Will you keep tabs on them around the clock, or is it me you would set your eyes on?

[that plurality is enunciated; he'd only threatened Shinpachi's life, and the foreigner had wafted in upon his departure]

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TEXT&VOICE MESSAGE POST ❧ gargleblasted

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