[center][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/459180049359175681/459185994344693760/shutenbanner.png[/img]
[h2]Shuten Douji, Fuyuki Outskirts[/h2]
[b]Einnashe Workshop ‘Lucus’, Center of the Summoning Circle[/b][/center]
As her master's face lit up and he began to ramble on Berserker only smiled. He certainly was a chatterbox, that much was for certain. Still, that unabashed excitement and utter lack of fear was incredibly interesting. He may lack certain qualities that Berserker considered to be ideal in a companion that enthusiasm was certainly admirable... Though he was ignoring the most generous gift offered him in favor of prattling on. 

As he continued to talk she nmerely shrugged and began to withdraw the offered sake, to partake of it herself, when he suddenly decided it would be prudent to accept the offer... and down it all in one go. She smiled as he tipped over and laughed when he hit the dirt face-first. "[color=8882be]Fufufu... My master certainly is adorably naive, isn't he? To take so readily to the hospitality of a demon...[/color]" 

She shifted her position, reclining back on her elbow now and resting her feet on the now floored Magus' back.  "[color=8882be]It's no good to be too eager, even if it's endearing... Still you make quite a first impression boy, even if your bones are too soft by half.[/color]" Again as she spoke she poured, though there was no offer this time. She tilted the bowl back slowly as it met her lips draining it gradually to the last drop, a pace that exhibited no particular rush but also knew no hesitation or rest. This was her nature surmised in a simple gesture, to indulge leisurely but completely.

Only once it was empty did she speak again, though yet again as her mouth busied itself with words her hands busied themselves with pouring so that she might punctuate her speech properly. "[color=8882be]I am most often called me Shuten Douji... You also may call me this. Am I to call you by your name or do you prefer Master? Lord? Darling? Husband perhaps?[/color]" It was hard to tell if she was mocking him, such a voice was made for things like flattery but the conveyance of sincerity was an afterthought at most. 

When she finished her second bowl of sake she shook him, gently, with the sole of her foot on his back. "[color=8882be]...Are you alright boy?[/color]" That almost condescendingly sweet voice didn't make her sound particularly concerned. Regardless of sincerity where concern was concerned his status as Master was clearly an afterthought.

[@Art of Fun]

[hr]

[center][h1][b]Master of Gatekeeper[/b][/h1]
[img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/449931028090585089/453415062158311424/grandma.png[/img]
[h2]Koume "Baba" Kurojishi, Edge of Shinto Town[/h2]
[b]The Clockwork Fortress of Troy, Central Keep[/b][/center]
The hulking figure stood atop the fortress tower was a mess of airy black silks under a wide brimmed hat, further obscured by the beaded fringe around its edges that hung halfway to the ground. Its sight unseeing gazed out over the manor below, and beyond that the stone maze that marked it's domain for over a mile in every direction. Three days, one could only imagine what would have been possible if they could have started sooner. Still, this was enough.

A single monstrous hand extended from under the amorphous mound of obscuring cloth, a giant mass of charcoal black, shiny and smoot with fresh lacquer,  with its open palm turned skyward. No sooner had it opened than a wooden sparrow covered in brass feathers alighted upon its newfound perch, with dead eyes and a tiny sliver of inky paper for a tongue. A tongue that quickly began to unravel, inch after inch, foot after foot, a string of numbers and symbols- most black, some red, that denoted the familiars findings. Once the tape began to run blank the hand closed, crushing the little mechanical bird into little more than dust. A few brass feathers fluttered down towards the labyrinth below, thin as razors and lost on the wind. 

Several stories below, in front of a roaring fireplace, sat a little old lady gray as could be in an arm chair that could easily fit three of her. In her lap, a wooden sparrow with little feathers of brass and a wooden crank on it's back. She closed her eyes, and in the back of her brain the familiar and comforting sound of wood thudding against wood echoed. One. Two. Three twists. The sparrow stirred to life before leaping airborn and darting out the window. 

The old woman pointed a gnarled and knobby hand at the open window, in the sparrows wake. "[color=fff79a]Look at him go Gatekeeper, he's off to find you someone to play with.[/color]" A rich and vibrant voice, full of jolly laughter. "[color=fff79a]Now be a dear and close the window for Baba, I've not been outside in so long I'm liable to catch cold.[/color]" 

Outside of...?

[@ssw]