HIATUS / paths diverging / ᵐᵘˡᵗᶤᵐᵘˢᵉˑ

【 ♕ 】- He intrigued her greatly.

Perhaps, it was not clear enough to him that she did not seek for his company – in fact, it was crystalline that she had her methods to avoid him. Their past encounters proved to be evident failures and yet, he seemed to persist thoroughly. It was a wonder to her, a question that never seemed to have left her – a simply ‘why’ towards his demand for her presence. After all, the King of Knights was not a new concept to him, he knew her – of her tale and her tragedy.

She was Artoria Pendragon, the one who had failed her kingdom, the one who had failed all of those who trusted her. Her heart that was so easily torn apart by her own regrets and so difficult to mend with the happiness that she did not deserve. Just like in the past, in her reign over Britain – a wall would be built around her but this time, for a different reason. After all, she had come to a conclusion that her troubles would only serve as a liability to her Master and her team. Putting on a knightly facade was easy to her, but her true face would most definitely show an intense contrast of fragility.

Slowly, but surely, it was something that had been born out of habit – keeping others away from the innermost chambers of her wounded soul and the shattered pieces of her diamond mind. It was no doubt that he was of no exception as well. In fact, she believed that there was barely a reason for him to seek her out, for he was someone who had everything within his grasps. Despite her distant expression, he did not once falter but only adjusted his approach - the change starting off with the revision of her name. 

He spoke of their past and their future together underneath the same Master and though his phrasing was that of a question, the both of them knew well that it was only the truth. Keeping silent about this issue, he would eventually stop the King of Knights in her tracks, bending downwards to make sure that her ocean eyes could no longer avoid his. With someone that rose to meet her equally, to challenge her – this was something that she could never afford to turn away from. And so, she lifted her head to meet his deep eyes that peeked out from underneath his golden locks and long lashes.

If he was looking to test her, then he would achieve nothing from this conversation alone. Fighting side by side with him was indeed, an unimaginable situation, and she only wished to create no ties with him until the time would come. But Artoria was no fool, choosing to play along with his requests…for now – it would be better to observe him a bit longer, she reckoned. 

“I will admit that I wish to have nothing to do with you, Archer — but for our Master’s sake, “ she paused, “I will agree to this proposal. Now — tell me about your definition of this… ‘peace’.”

So distrustful, and not nearly as grateful to be given his attention as she ought to have been. Gilgamesh had seen her suspicion coming a mile away by now after all this time between them had passed, though his expectation of it did little to garner him an ounce of understanding as to why she so disdained him. His regard was not so small a thing that it could be discarded like trash. Still, she snubbed him, and despite himself he could feel the sting.

It burned just as it thrilled, and he could only marvel at that contradiction. He flexed that feeling until it burrowed into an ache. It might of been longing. Oh, to be wanting of something—to live in the pursuit instead of languishing in perpetual success. There was something to be said for it.

Gilgamesh laughed, and his joy tasted bittersweet to his tongue as it poured out. He wanted to swallow it back down. It reminded him of wine, and he’d never been one for sharing: even this, his happiness, was something he guarded jealously. The sound tapered down to nothing and left behind only a shallow sort of smile, a display that offered no comfort or reassurance and had been birthed with no intention to. No pride could be found in mere scraps, and no sense of fulfillment would reach him until he’d fully captured his prize.

Success came in moments. He forgot as much—often, but with Saber he would need to be more discerning. Gilgamesh did not enjoy losing, after all.

Whereas a proper gentleman might have offered his arm, the King of Heroes simply spun on his heel and beckoned to her to follow with a near dismissive flick of his wrist. The only hint of his uncertainty as to whether she would follow was the fact his normally brisk pace—as if nothing were worth lingering for—had slowed to a casual walking speed, his head not turning back. He only looked forward.

“It would begin with us establishing communication,” he stated, aiming to steer them in the direction of the cafeteria. The food was subpar at best and he had no desire to chef up his own meals, but he supposed it was passable for their purposes. He would endure the offense to his taste buds for the sake of his endgame. His voice remained delightfully neutral as they navigated Chaldea’s halls, and if they passed any other residents, he did not even honor them with a glance. 

“As Servants before it is true we fought as singular entities, and for most of my life—” He did not pause, did not display his hesitation, but felt his pride chafe a bit to speak of such. “Fighting alone was my preference.”

With one single exception, but he did not speak that name. His only tether.

Enkidu.

“However,” he carried on quickly, pushing open a door and giving her only a millisecond to catch it for herself before he was in the next room, already mapping out where they would sit. Somewhere far from the rabble. The cleanest table with the most comfortable chairs. Nothing was good enough. He scowled at the offense of it all. “Our circumstances in Chaldea have dramatically changed. We are surrounded by other Servants. Whether they are worthy of fighting at our side is not the question. It is simply something to endure. So to you I ask this, King of Knights.”

He looked to her at last, ruby gaze glinting with an emotion unnamed.

Sees elle (@arbitrcr) on dash

Rejoices

unprompted. | motive and opportunity.

King Arthur stood before him in all of her splendor—a Saber class many held in high regard. Jin could feel the bond between them humming in its relative infancy, and though the summoning had ended some time before, it still felt like the moment she’d first appeared. It was like this that she had come to him: spine straight, gaze direct, assessment vivid as she searched him. For what? He had not known, but now…

Intent.

To many Servants were a means to an end, though not all Masters saw it that way. But even the most pure hearted of people could become tied to sinister entities, and it was much the same in reverse. There was no doubt that she was wondering: what kind of person held her power in their hands now?

Why do you fight for this place?

It was a strong question. It held nothing back and seemed to expect the same from him. Perhaps it was a test? Jin seemed stunned for a moment, and it was his grandmother’s voice whispering cunningly in his ear, telling him that he should tell her something she’d like to hear. So much history had been drilled into his skull for such a moment. Knowledge, she’d told him, was power. Words were power. And loyalty, once earned, could be more than unwavering—it could be decisive in a moment where it’d be needed most.

Because it’s the right thing to do.

That would be the proper answer, and he believed that. But that wasn’t the entirety of it, was it? No. Too simple, too uninvolved. It said nothing of who he was. He had a feeling… an inkling at the back of his mind… that while she would accept the answer, she would know he’d held back. That he had not trusted her. No matter what grandmother said, Jin knew in his heart what he had to do.

He couldn’t trust someone who didn’t trust him, and he could never hope to expect her to do the same. Their world was falling apart one piece at a time. It was beyond being about his comfort. At the end, there could only be truth—or oblivion.

Face it now, he told himself. Or walk into the abyss alone.

“I came here to restore my family’s honor as mages,” he admitted to her, tongue heavy and cheeks threatening to warm with the shame that had been instilled upon him from his matriarch. Hesitation clawed, but it always did that. He ignored the scratching at his insides, swallowed his pride. “It was self-motivated, honestly. My intentions—well, that could only be seen as selfish, couldn’t it? But after what happened here—when I woke up…”

He didn’t want to think of that. A shake of his head, as if to dismiss it, before he continued—and if his voice shook, he did not acknowledge it. Could not.

“I thought it would be sad,” Jin said. “To see everything disappear. Loss is difficult, and we lose more of our future each and every day. For once, I think I just wanted to… save something. I wanted to see this through.”

He shrugged, the motion almost jerky, and managed a smile just teetering on the edge of self-loathing. He reached up and brushed some hair behind his ear.

due to the extended and maintained nature of my hiatus, i honestly have lost touch with old ideas i had for previously requested threads. i think there are about two starters planned that i still recall where i wanted to take them, and one of those was somewhat discussed, so they’ll remain. the rest will be reset and i’ll make a newer starter call sometime soon. 

unprompted. | humanity.

Katou Danzou—it was a name that had not meant much to him before the moment this Spirit had been summoned to him, but one that he had devoted himself to understanding once she had fallen under his responsibility. Not much was known about her outside of accomplishments in old historical records. It left him guessing, at first, until he realized there was no need to guess at all. With her present, he could simply ask the Assassin things he wished to know, and if she felt like abiding—well, he would learn.

If not, it had never been his business to start with. That was his philosophy, after all.

But it also became clear to him that she did not consider privacy as something inherent to her human rights. That she did not, in fact, see herself as human at all—

But, she’d spoken to him, voice a soft yet hopeful rasp. I would like to be seen as one, someday. I wonder if that is possible.

Jin wondered if this doll-like spirit was aware that her hope was more human a thing than some of the humans he’d met in this world. It had peeled open the layer around his compassion, and as they fought more battles together, he’d decided he would do his best to help make the Assassin’s wish possible. It did not matter that this was Chaldea and no Grail existed for them to lay claim. Humanity was not simply a heartbeat. To him, it was a state of mind, and he…

Well. He believed in her.

The halls of Chaldea felt too bright for him that night, and Jin knew he was mourning silly things when he found himself missing the moonlight—fireflies, cicadas chirping. The white noise of nature and the dark. The closest he could obtain was shutting off his bedroom lights, and even then he could not escape the mechanical buzzing of their shelter. He’d focused on his breathing, eyes shut to the world and head laid over his arms upon his bed, when he heard the door open.

So quiet, barely a whisper—and he knew before she said a word it was Danzou. Lashes lifted, body shifting into a seated position as he took in her silhouette. Even in the blackness, the gold of her eyes was distinct. Her voice so haunted a thing at times he wondered if she was truly present, if he’d summoned her at all instead of imagined her. Here, in the shadows, she spoke to him.

She asked him of sadness.

Jin allowed several moments for the question to fully sink in, the weight of it something he could almost feel cupped in his hands, cradled as they were upon his kneecaps. Before speaking, he gave her a nod, knowing she would see—hand patting the bed next to him in invitation for a seat. This would be a conversation that could take quite some time, after all, and if she had further questions then he wanted to indulge her. She wanted to understand, and if he could help then he would.

“You’re not interrupting anything,” he told her. “I’ve told you before you can come to me at any time. We are partners, after all.” Another pause as he stretched, dark gaze raking upwards to examine the ceiling as if he could find the words he sought there. “Truth be told, Danzou, I cannot be called an expert on sadness—it is something I am familiar with, but…”

His lips curved into a half-smile, self-deprecating.

“I have made the mistake many humans foolishly tend to. I have not let myself experience the emotion completely. We feel sadness like a fist.” Fingers curled with the motion as his hand lifted in front of her so she could see. “It takes hold of us, one small grip at a time, and it squeezes. Sometimes the fist is around our heart. We can feel every pulse shaking inside of us. Other times,” he continued, resting his palm over his stomach. “It is a punch, and we feel as though we may never breathe again—even as we expel air from our lungs.”

It was difficult to put into words, he realized. The things he had felt as a child following the slow decline that had been his family.

“Sometimes,” Jin continued. “Sadness is numbness, like a poison. It spreads and spreads without a cure in sight. It consumes us into nothingness, a despair so great we cannot express a thing at all.” His fingers opened, arms splaying out to display the vastness of the room around them. “It is like this blackness. It can seem consuming if not controlled. If we cannot find a hint of light to guide us out of the tunnel.”

He reached up to touch her face, the gesture innocent—meant to explain and instruct. He traced along her cheek, thumb nudging along the corner of her lashes.

“Tears are more complicated a creature. They serve multiple functions. They are created in response to strong surges of emotion, including joy or surprise. Mostly,” he ascertained. “They are the body’s attempt to inform us and the rest of the world that something is wrong. Tears inspire comfort, and when people are sad…”

The magus trailed off.

Yes, he thought. Back then, perhaps even he…

relationship meme! | accepting. 

I 90000% understand Mordred’s struggle, because Gilgamesh is a very pretty boy who desperately needs at least half of that beauty to somehow merge into his crappy personality. 

That being said: I am totally here for this! I think it all adds an interesting dynamic when put together, because if you factor in Gilgamesh’s thoughts about Artoria and the complicated relationship Mordred has with his past and family… there’s a lot to learn there. Two very unique perspectives on matters that don’t entirely align with the truth, but are a part of it (because the truth is always far more complex). 

relationship meme! | accepting.

relationship meme! | accepting.

NOT YOU TOO LMFAOSDKOFHIOSF

relationship meme! | accepting.

unprompted. | best banana waifu.

“Look how spoiled you’ve become.”

Mocking words from the demon of whom this cat seemed determined to lay claim. Amusement glittered in his gaze, the usual brilliant gold dimmed to darkest brown thanks to the contacts he used. He took no pleasure in diminishing himself, but it served his purposes, and he had never been one to complain. Akio could not say the same for his pet, however. The weak mewling thing he’d taken from the edge of death in his youth had become a most entitled entity, assuming he belonged wherever it was that fire bearer stayed.

Dedicated was too mild a word for Bel. He was more-so obsessed, and if Akio had been a weaker soul, that might have unnerved him. Instead he found it most humorous.

A soft chuckle escaped him as he reached over, fingertips combing through soft tufts of fur. Though his pet’s personality could be most unpleasant when he felt spurned or jealous, moments such as this proved to be relaxing. He nudged his nails along the cat’s ears and wondered, “Are you trying to be cute? I suppose even someone as prideful as you craves attention.”

If he was going to indulge him, it might as well be fully, he thought—and it was this that had him reaching over and hoisting Bel onto his lap, a feat made noticeably easier in the male’s smaller form than at his full, humanistic shape. From there he leaned back on the couch, petting him idly before refocusing his attention on the television’s news station.