WITCH. (autoplay)

          “There’re only a few instances where flattery would come too late– and this isn’t one of them.“ Sheesh– that sweetness… It makes the hair on the back of his neck raise up– was this verbal poison? … Maybe not… but it’s not that far off the mark. “Well, I guess the witch look has always changed from time and place… … Not sure about the singing, though– did you do a lot of singing when you were younger? … Maybe even now, when you’re all alone, without a care in the world? I bet it sounds lovely.”

     Will he ever learn? Hm… Hard to say. Maybe he has an untapped Charisma skill…? Whether that would be good or bad is up for debate.

        ❛   Do women typically enjoy that ?  You asking so many personal questions ?   ❜   

            YES.  Even the traitorous witch of Colchis was prone to singing in her younger days, when her greatest worries were keeping up with the teachings of her aunt, Circe, and wondering what lay beyond that endless stretch of ocean. Even now, there’s a lingering tendency to hum when she’s deeply involved in her work... But there’s something incredibly irksome at having honeyed words thrown back at her— with the sincerity hers lack, no less. Jason, too, was a master with honeyed words.

          “Whoa now– we can’t have just any rando runnin’ around like the great Achilles, now can we? Just like no ordinary woman could hope to match up to your good looks just cause they got the same robes.“ Excellent, the nerve has been touched. … A little too hard– he’ll keep the energy going, but might be best to ease off a little. “And stop tellin’ me to call you Caster– it ain’t happenin’!”

         ❛   A little too late for flattery, Rider.   ❜   THERE’S   sweetness in her tone, but only of the sickening sort; the type that drips on far too long, the type that’s more a nuisance than a token. Fortunately for him, the details of the holiday seem to irk her more than his usual cavalier attitude— for now, at least.  

          ❝ New wine and spring? I’ve never heard of things like that being celebrated for Halloween. Though… it seems it only was to celebrate rather than dressing up, yes? ❞

          “What’s that? Is the witch princess feeling a bit worried about that?”

          “… Or would it be princess witch?“

           SHE   grows rigid immediately, of course, as he once again manages to find one of her very few sore spots. If looks alone could kill a fellow Servant, he would be dead in the street. 

          ❝ This dreadful holiday… why is it back again?! Isn’t celebrating it once in your lives enough?! ❞

“Bad credit? No credit? No problem! “

     “ Oh, you’re dead? Fuck it, ghost credit! “

          “The way I see it, I got two different kinds of serious. The first one’s when I really put my godlike back into it, no holding back at all! The typical stuff you write hero stories about, naturally. Then there’s the other kind of serious– whatever my natural human body can do, without the blessings of Gods or Holy Grails. It’s a fine line I walk, I know… but someone’s gotta do it.“

           DESPITE   herself, brows raise with genuine interest. Jason would have stacked his deck as thick as possible, just like the Argo, until it was nearly bursting at the seams. Here, a man gifted as many cards in his deck as possible without ascending to full godhood... And he selectively flips and shuffles them.

愛 “Oh?” Kama immediately repeated the witch’s reaction with the exact same infliction. It wasn’t mocking, but perhaps a verbal tic the two of them shared. “You think I don’t agree with that assessment? I hate my fellow gods as much as I hate humans. Burned alive by my fellow god, ashes left to burn among the cosmos; yet still aware. Aware of all of the wishes for love from humankind. Their distorted desires, their disillusioned longings, an eternity of suffering. Just as a human can hate humans, a goddess can hate the gods.” She understood those words had been thrown out to dismiss her personally, but as much as Kama hated and used humans, she also loved them.

Such was the extent of her broken personality, her nature as a Beast.

“So a god has messed with you in the past then? It seems such things aren’t limited to the Indian gods.” Mentally berating herself, she asked anyways. She’d be snarky about it but Kama was inquiring out of personal interest. She would claim to herself that it would be to better bother her later, but as one that loved those she hated there was a small twinge of genuine concern in her wretched heart. “You spit such detail in your verbal poison that I can only assume it was severe.”

       ❛   What enjoyment could you possibly get from airing out your pain to a stranger ?   ❜   SOME   of the bite has left her tone, replaced with genuine befuddlement. She would sooner walk across hot coals than explain, at any length, any segment of her past; the only exception being if it were before Aphrodite herself, or perhaps an Argonaut with a loose tongue. This goddess of ‘love’, however... Seemed to have no qualms whatsoever. If it were a means to disavow and sully the gods who wronged her, Medea supposes she can concede a begrudging sense of respect. … However minor it may be.

          “Hey now– it’s suppose to be impressive because I’m not resorting to the usual Servant power for running! And besides, it’s not like all Servants are just as fast as the next one. Someone’s gotta be the best, and I’m pretty sure I’m right up near the top– if not sitting right at it. Don’t tell me you don’t have any pride in your magic talents, Caster!”

          “What, you don’t believe me? I can run around this entire city in under an hour! No tricks, no breaks! Just pure talent.“

          “Come on now– there’s no Grail War to worry about, far as I can tell. I get what you mean, but… No harm with us Greek Servants looking out for each other, right?“ It just makes total sense to him. Her wariness is definitely understandable, though. Seems like the best way to win her trust is to…

          ”Well, alright then– it’s only fair for us to be on equal terms, no?” His confident grin came back as he took a firm stance, a hand placed on his hip as the other rested his wooden spear against his shoulder. What a heroic pose! “My class is Rider– and my True Name is Achilles, son of the hero Peleus! Heh… will that do?”

         ❛   And that would be where you are mistaken. I am not Greek, in fact. Even if I were, I’m quite certain Greece would never claim me. So we owe each other nothing.   ❜   STILL  , he has confirmed her suspicions. Achilles... Even if the Servant herself hasn’t experienced it firsthand, Medea is well aware of the overlap in their histories. As for his father, Peleus, he had frequently been a voice of wisdom among the Argonauts ( or at least a good rallying cry ). It was he, after all, who devised a way to get the Argo across the desert. Without a doubt, Peleus was worthy of respect — and his own son’s triumphs were far from wanting. Which only makes her all the more eager to push her own exploits to the wayside... 

ruined by apathy.

          “– You can’t just cut me off so coldly like that!“ Such a sharp tongue and quick wit, teaming up with a minor sense of paranoia and suspicion… Maybe she’s the one he’s thinking of after all. While he certainly never met this woman during his time being alive… Greek heroes have a way of being somewhat familiar with one another all the same. That’s probably in thanks to the Grail and how it shares knowledge with Servants. The longer he takes in the woman’s features, the more certain he becomes…

     And as a bonus, an obscure tidbit of his own legend comes to mind. One that just so happens to involve Medea… One that should be kept to himself. But honestly… It’s too funny to just pass up so easily.

          ”Look, just give it to me straight– I can already tell you’re a Servant… A Caster, right? But if I’m not mistaken… Would you happen to be Medea?”

          ❛   ... And even if I were, why would I be inclined to tell you ?   ❜

              MAINTAINING   composure is always much more difficult when one’s face is in plain view, especially when she can already feel a prickling sensation creeping along the sides of her neck. How she loathes that name. True, in a place like this, her name may as well be common knowledge for any that choose to dig for it — but it would be a cold day in the Underworld before she acknowledged it of her own volition. 

         ❛   Aren’t you a little young to be a bartender ?   ❜

             EVEN   in a bar supposedly exclusive to villains, Caster can — and will — find someone to heckle. Purple nails tap rhythmically on the counter, an equally-purple grin being the only defining feature beneath her hood. It seemed downright foolish to not wear her cloak, exclusive clientele or not. 

         ❛   Well, no matter. Here’s hoping you can make the strongest drink available, little girl.   ❜

      ❛   I wish you would ask whatever it is you want to ask — so that I may answer ‘no’ and go about my day.   ❜