In love with a hot cecaelia

I read the whole thing in the voice of Scout from TF2 and loved every second.

I'm really glad you liked it.

jesus christ

upvoted

I'm glad you liked it! I love taking prompts in unexpected directions so I'm glad this one was successful.

Thanks! I'm really glad you liked it. I've had an idea brewing in my head for years about an older man in his 60s going on a journey with a 19 year old girl with no parents, him becoming a father figure to her in the process, so this was sort of a test to see if I could write that kind of dynamic.

"So you're telling me this blade has no combat boost abilities?" the grizzled, bearded hero asked as the smith handed me back to him.

"None at all," the smith said.

"And it's possessed by the ghost of a 15 year old girl?" the hero asked.

"Yes. Taken too soon, and bound to it forever with demon magic."

"Excellent," the hero says, slinging me into the sheath on his back despite my cries of protest. "Just what I was looking for."

I couldn't tell how much time had passed--it surprised me that it wasn't longer--but he removed me from the sheath in the middle of a field a short distance away from the town he'd stopped to get me appraised in.

"Can't be too comfortable in there," he muttered.

His grip against my handle was firm, steady. The grip of a warrior. He lunged forward and took a few practice swings to get used to my weight and length. I didn't mind being handled anymore; the longer I'd stayed in my sword body, the less I'd felt like my hilt was a pair of stiffened legs and my blade was my grossly elongated head.

"Well then, missy: what's yer name?" he asked, holding me out in front of him and trying to make eye contact with my featureless face.

"Ana," I responded.

"You didn't have a daddy, did you?"

"Ew. Piss off, jerk."

The hero chuckled, shook his head, and sat down on a rock.

"Should've explained that better, that's my fault." He stroked his beard before continuing. "The particular binding spell used on you only works if its victim's daddy has passed."

"Oh."

"When'd you lose him?"

"Don't wanna talk."

"Not surprised. How long were you locked in that old trunk for?"

"I said I don't wanna talk, old man!"

The hero looked like he was trying to hold in laughter. That just made me more pissed off. I didn't see anything funny about my curse. After a few moments he spoke again.

"Did you ever want to be a fighter?" His words were soft.

"Yeah. I did." I internally swore at myself for breaking my resolve and responding to him. "Was only a few weeks away from my 16th birthday."

"And your first mission as a rookie fighter."

"Yeah." If I'd had shoulders, they would have slumped. "Wasn't gonna be much. Scaring off and possibly killing a small pack of wild dogs. But the gods know the town needed it." I felt a lump in my phantom throat. "My mom needed it."

"Your momma was a good person?"

"Yeah. I mean, she was always yelling at me to clean up my shit and get in my sword practice, but she wasn't a bad person."

"And now you're a sword."

"Yeah. Not even a good sword."

The hero stood up and took a few more swings at the air. My chest fluttered with each move. He was skilled. I found myself wanting to slice through something.

"You're a fine sword," he said. "Good length, good weight for your size. I can see you doing well in battle. You're just not enchanted to fight automatically." His face grew dark and he grit his teeth. "You should consider yourself lucky."

"I'm a goddamn sword for all eternity and you think I'm lucky?"

"A lot of those 'enchanted' weapons that are so helpful and powerful? They're still kids like you, they just don't have a say anymore. No voice."

I felt a chill run down my steel body.

"And those 'buffed' weapons everyone's after where the sword fights for itself? Well... trust me, you don't want your body to undergo that kind of movement, even if you are a sword. I've heard tales." He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out something small and grey. "Ever had a whetstone on you?"

"No sir."

"Other blades I've found loved it. Tell me if I'm being too rough." He placed me on his knee and began to work away. The sensation would be impossible to describe for humans--the closest analogy being a nice, firm shoulder rub.

"So what happened to your last blade?" I asked once I was feeling a lot sharper.

"Broke the curse. Took what felt like half an eon, but I did it. I'm wondering if I can't do the same for you."

"I'm not looking for a savior. I'm not a damsel in distress."

"You're a sword in distress."

"Pleh."

"The way I see it is this." He stood up. "You and I are brothers-in-arms, so to speak. I can't fight without a sword, you can't fight without my skill. I can't get anyone back to normal without them helping me. I ain't the brightest."

"Do you just go around rescuing kids stuck in swords?"

There was a strained silence where his shoulders tensed and he breathed in a funny way, like he was trying to figure out how to word what to say next.

"My brother," he finally said. "Sealed away somewhere and could never figure it out."

"And you wanna find him again."

"Yeah."

Inside me I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time welling up--a thirst for adventure. I hadn't wanted any sort of excitement since my skin turned to steel and I began to get passed around between demons, goblins, and orcs of the worst varieties. Now I was having second thoughts about what I could do with the right hero by my side.

"Alright, old man," I said. "We'll go find your brother."

"What?" The hero's eyes scrunched at me. "No, I'm going to rescue you. We'll never find my brother."

"Nah, we'll find your brother first."

"It will be too dangerous."

"Then teach me to fight alongside you."

"Teach you to fight?"

I wriggled free of his hand and floated up until my blade reflected his battle-scarred face.

"I've had this power since a few decades ago," I explained, turning around in mid-air. "I was just too depressed to use it."

r/MyloRolfeReads

My imagination is so vivid that this came across as really close. Same kind of body twisting that he likes to do. It looks absolutely disgusting in my head which gives the best kind of gut clenches.

Alright Junji Ito we get it, you're the master of horror, no need to rub it in our faces