EMIYA

         ❝   Ha— !  Jealous ?   ❞

              TO   say Mordred’s mood was experiencing a days-long boost would be an understatement; even with parameters lowered as they were, Clarent still felt far lighter than it did in life — and even in life it was a no-brainer. If she wanted to take a few swings out on the thin air, listening to the steel sing with each slice, that was her business — and her right. Ironic, perhaps, given her history with the sword… But she fails to see how that’s this Servant’s business. 

         ❝   I know this sword like the back of my hand. Only way it’ll run someone through is if I want ‘em run through. How are those treatin’ ya ?   ❞   The Saber asks pointedly, chin jutted towards the wooden swords he’s been so graciously stuck with — Clarent resting all too smugly across the back of her shoulders.

    The difference between this Saber and the Saber he knew is staggering. If Saber, the king, was here, she might have given this gleeful knight an earful about waving her sword around in such a casual manner. But Archer was neither that uptight nor was he about to lecture a Servant on how to handle their Noble Phantasms. Especially not in his current status as a de-powered, practically useless Servant form.

  the warmth from the cup of tea was soothing in every aspect and she welcomed it, cradling it closely as she took a few sips. it’s no surprise that Emiya picked up on the weight that seemed to be bearing down on her more and more as of late. she doesn’t make any attempt to give some excuse of how it was a bad sleep schedule or that work was wearing her it out. it was nothing of that sort and she didn’t have any intentions of lying to Archer. she’s done enough of that as of late.

     the mage sighs quietly, chin coming to rest in the palm of her hand. “ I can’t say everything is wrong, but it sure does feel like it lately. I’m sure I did something to piss off some…. being out there for everything to hit me all at once. “

    Archer fixed a gaze of contemplation upon the burdened mage, briefly thinking to himself of a time where he was in her position. Normality suddenly disintegrated all around a young Emiya and a world initially beyond his understanding suddenly thrust upon him. How he survived all that insanity was nothing less than a miracle, but here he is, tied to the throne and to the world, serving a cup of tea to humanity’s last hope.     Can’t get any crazier than that.

“Emiya-senpai, you look quite stressed. Would you like a drink of green tea?”

   “ There’s nothing wrong with drinking soup from a cup– I do it all the time. Same with oatmeal!“

sip, sip

If one would eye the rim of the thermal, they might sight steam wafting from whatever contents the king indulged. Pursed lips parted and curious eyes surfed the fluid, her head performing a simple tilt in consideration. “Hm… Stargram poses an interesting case; it may just take time adjusting to drink soup".

To handle the pack with his skill would never be surprised, yet she was in awe regardless. Though he was never one to brag, the swordsman was admirable, and Mashu oft sought to emulate his prowess, his resilience, his unwavered iron will. In order to clear a direct path to him, she held up her shield, rushing into the Lamia whose trail she followed and plowed through, shoving the trio into another two directly in their way. It offered a narrow passage, but one nevertheless.

And once infiltrated, her back turned to his so to face the circle, fingertips that hovered by David’s hilt. “It would seem so. Perhaps Chaldea as a whole is made up of trouble magnets — but it would be hard to argue that it has a particular fondness for you. I’m really happy to see you and to be able to make it to help you. Though chances are, you would have the situation under control without it given long enough". Camelot tilted forward, imposing itself upon the slashing serpents as if to warn it might simply topple forward and squash them beneath its weight. Allowing the angle at her arm’s full length, Mashu’s vision moved over-shoulder to the Archer.

“It’s a long story, but the forces who typically govern the island have come under attack. We have become very much pawns in a game by their enemy and when we rebelled, they confirmed their intent to eradicate us all. I don’t know anything about that island in the sky, it manifested at the same time as they — a group identified as NULL — made clear their true intent. How we stop it and the enemies being deployed, I don’t know, but with any luck, someone will find the solution — for now, we should assume this is a war of attrition until whoever it is succeeds”.

    What a goddamn mess he’d been thrust into. If it’s not Counter Guardian duties, it’s always another world-threatening situation he found himself in. Maybe this was just another side to his contract with the world; perpetually forced to fight in battles beyond normal comprehension; be it threats to the world, humanity’s history or new dimensions in the form of an island. Well, whatever. Mash gave him a brief enough rundown. Always capable, that one. Capable and strong, just like he remembered her being.     That eased this troublesome situation somewhat, knowing he had such a reliable ally by his side in the midst of this chaos.

    One would be forgiven for mistaking this Saber for the King of Knights, at first glance. They were of incredibly similar silhouettes, that is upon further inspection, the similarities end abruptly. Whereas the Saber he knew was calm and collected, an experienced king through and through, this Saber seemed to exude a loud energy about them, almost feral-like in nature. At least, that’s what it looked like to Archer.

    It didn’t help that this Saber was swinging their sword around like a child who had just received a new toy of theirs. A particularly powerful sword at that, one Archer clearly recognized that belonged to a certain red knight of King Arthur’s famed round table. Oh boy.

Warnings had spread of particular adversaries recreated by the chaos. It may have been only a matter of time before one herself might be discovered and she had met the challenge head-on. For an hour, they had been in combat; the King of Knights and a Knight of the Round — not of her own court, but belonging to the Lion King. Gifted by her Grail. Tristan who had partaken in the eradication of a village filled with innocents beneath his liege’s execution. And as expected of a knight his calibre, he had proven a formidable foe. No matter how many times their weaponry collided, neither had succeeded in a fatal strike, having to settle with wounds of all degree. The two parted from another close-quarters clash, Saber finding hers legs growing weak in strength and onto one knee fell.

Laboured breaths fell from her lips, blood dripping from the injuries inflicted across her body untreated by her vow not to rely on Chaldea’s Master when so many other would be in need of her support. Though stubbornly loyal to the notion, the imbalance between granted and expelled energy was beginning to take her toll on her. the brilliant red of Tristan’s hair lifted itself, drawing nearer — undoubtedly still on his feet by the supply of the Grail. A haggard Saber prepared herself, an iron palm against the ground ready to force herself back onto her feet when Tristan’s red, silver and black vanished behind another, darker shade. Taken aback by the Archer’s appearance at such a crucial moment, it was his human-time name had barged into her voice.“—Shirou”.

@boneofhissword··

    Perhaps it was always fate that he would fight side by side with Britain’s king. No matter the time, place or hell, even dimension, he always seemed to find himself aiding Saber, be it protecting her once foolish Master, or allying themselves with Chaldea. It was no different this time, even against what looked like a particularly formidable Archer. One Saber seemed to have knowledge of; a connection he suspected that ran deeper than mere knowing.

    It took some time, but seeing Mash again jogged some memories that Archer wasn’t even aware of. Ah, but he’s used to suddenly remembering things when they’re most convenient so he took those memories in stride, acknowledging that he was able to fulfill his stepfather’s wish to become a hero of justice. After all, helping Chaldea prevent humanity from being erased counted as being actually heroic, right?

@boneofhissword··

From above, the devastation of Spirale twisted her stomach; far from the first time was it Mashu had witnessed such a scene. Yet for the land to have been home, forced or otherwise, it was an uncomfortable sight to behold. At the base of the multi-storey car park upon which she stood, a group of serpentine creatures slithered at speed. Something had caught their attention — or someone. Mashu sprung from the rooftop space, soaring briefly before it would be a decent by gravity’s demand. Beneath her heels did Lord Camelot move, surfing the winds on her way down, with a specific spot in mind.

Right atop one of the trailing Lamia, crushed it beneath the force and weight suddenly upon it. But more importantly, she’d caught a glimpse of their target and weaved through the survivors on their way to join a pack already engaged in battle. Even as their blood slathered the streets.  “—Emiya-senpai!” Was he an Emiya contracted to Chaldea or separate? The thought to consider such a question hadn’t quite been fast enough when the sheer numbers around him propelled her forward.

    All manner of monsters had come crawling out from whatever abyss they’re from now, prompting the Servant to become a little more aggressive in his defense of this strange new land. Hell, he’d only been here a few hours and already, it felt like he was doing his duty as a Counter Guardian and not a Servant of the grail. But the stakes here seemed far greater than he initially thought. Everyone involved were fighting to protect this place in earnest. While he had no particular attachment to this place, he knew it was home to many. And he knew most of all just how terrible it is to lose something like that overnight.

    So he fought. Wave after wave of this creatures he felled, using his forgery of blades and his expertise with the bow, skewering dozens in minutes with extreme impunity. 

[ ♒︎ ] – Even as the sun sets, the transition between day and night goes almost unnoticed. That’s how things were in war– And this is what it was, wasn’t it?

Exhausted, Aqua thrust Rainfell into the ground, leaning heavily on the hilt. The blade, her armor… It had seen better days, to be sure. The endless tide of monsters both familiar and foreign was wearing on her. Curaga could work wonders on the body, but the mind…

          ❝It never ends, does it? They just keep coming.❞

    Relief would come in the form of swords, raining down on the monsters. Iron and silver tore through them with impunity, the blades seemingly coming in infinite supply, only to disappear into the ether as soon as they vanquish their mark. “--So will your will buckle under theirs? Stand. It’s not over yet.”