The man looked at the woman before her, his scarlet eyes locked upon her own. He stood tall before her. His barbed spear stood taller in his hand. A weapon made with the idea to hurt others as much as the one in possession of it. Barbs were threatening to pierce the flesh and clothing of his hand, if his claws curled around the weapon didn’t do so first. A spiked tail lazy swayed behind him, the spikes scratching up the floor, part of it hidden behind a cape. The fur on his shoulders matched the colors of his eyes, and outlined his face and expression. Although, his expression seemed defaulted to a blank, uninteresting stare.
He watched her shift her weight and noticed her own deadpan expression. He noted that she was not terrified of him, and, as he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, it was hard to gauge how she felt at the moment. Regardless, that was not important to think about now, or ever again. She was obviously his master, and his time of pondering was to cease as soon as his servitude began in earnest. If she was fearful of him, or excited, or whatever. It didn’t matter. He will become what she wants, and do as she pleases.
Her words reached his ears, but his features did not change.
“I will do what is necessary as a servant,” Alter or not, he still had his Irish accent, “It is pointless to discuss any issues I may have.” He followed the other’s gaze as she looked at the command seals etched into her skin, “I, Cu Chulainn, am responding to your summons. What is the nature of my relationship to you?”
It may have sounded as an odd question, but his past experiences and how he views himself made this question important. What did this master want him to be? What role did she want of this broken shell of a “hero” to be? Once she uttered the words of his role, he will follow it until his end. Whatever orders she barked he will follow. Whatever she wanted he will do. Deep down, in a place he wasn’t even aware of, he had a hope that this woman will be different from Medb.
It wasn’t the response she meant to give, but it was the one that came to her the quickest. She didn’t expect this, after all. For as large and sharp and threatening as the man in front of her was, he was much more agreeable than she would have ever expected. Even if she didn’t know what she was supposed to expect, that was the very last thing.
The hand that was raised lowered once more to cross over her chest, and her head tilted to think properly on the answer to his question.
“So I’m Culann himself, then?” Senjougahara had heard of his legend before, but knew only bits and pieces of it. “Where I am from having servants isn’t the same as it would have been in your era--I assume. So I’m not entirely sure what your role should be. It would be amusing to have you wear a uniform and wait on me hand and foot, but it’s probably safe to say that isn’t why you’re here either.”
Her head rolled to the other side once more, though the look on her face was more genuine confused contemplation than before. She had little idea why she was there in the first place, but if she was summoning (the term used very loosely, as she didn’t do anything in particular that warranted her servant existing at all, in her mind) beings, there had to have been a proper purpose for it.
---And she refused to consider it was for any type of fighting.
“I don’t know, then. All you are to me is someone else. So.”
The hand branded in sigils was raised once more, this time held out to the man in earnest greeting.
“Hitagi Senjougahara. Please treat me well.”