[ He watches quietly, absorbing all of her reaction—the tremble of her fingers, the expression of surprise and the realization of this gift's meaning. The slight apprehension and then determination; the way her grip changes so that she has a firm grasp, but still gentle and delicate in her touch—the feeling that washes over him at this moment, it's—
His chest no longer feels empty. It is warm and full.
The blade gleams as Altria pulls it out of its sheath. The hamon is an evenly spaced wave, beautiful in its simplicity. The sword as a whole is uncomplicated in appearance, with a guard that resembles the flower-like design of the Wanderer's hat and a red braided thread tied to the end of the hilt, but it's in this simplicity that the truth is revealed. Anyone with an eye for swords would be able to tell that the blade is extremely well-crafted. Perhaps bordering the quality of work that could be considered a swordsmith's magnum opus. He truly put his heart into its creation. ]
no subject
His chest no longer feels empty. It is warm and full.
The blade gleams as Altria pulls it out of its sheath. The hamon is an evenly spaced wave, beautiful in its simplicity. The sword as a whole is uncomplicated in appearance, with a guard that resembles the flower-like design of the Wanderer's hat and a red braided thread tied to the end of the hilt, but it's in this simplicity that the truth is revealed. Anyone with an eye for swords would be able to tell that the blade is extremely well-crafted. Perhaps bordering the quality of work that could be considered a swordsmith's magnum opus. He truly put his heart into its creation. ]
It's yours.
[ I'm yours. ]