When I'm taken, Once I'm gone

I’ll keep it short. With Citta’s self-destruction and the fallout with it, it’s made things very tiring. Any kind of drama usually exhausts me but the appeal of the group was keeping that drama relatively quiet on the dash to not burden the dashboard with vagueposts, etcetc. but no group is without its faults and internal drama and to see all this come to light is both strange  (in the good sense that most of the group is sensible, moving on to better things. Surprisingly, there are few opposed, yanno?) and equaling tiring.  The indie scene had changed for a while too, and I focused on group activities because whenever I logged onto this indie account, there was always leftover dramas and issues on the winds. Considering the nature of the character I rp being legit problematic, I didn’t want to step into any of those waters and in turn, probably needed the  extended breather from it.

WAGH. T-tHANK YOU…?? I MISS YOU TOO????

“I see something dark… is that some sort of candy?“ 

Carelessly rips it out, of course. 

“Huh… oh. You have two rows of teeth? Or… do you.“ 

He’ll live.

“ Heal up tough guy.“

 One deep unprepared shout later--  He drops his heels holding himself together. No Draculas today. No Draculas today. Shudder shudder.  Not after that embarrassing time he stubbed his toe.

“…Aye. Right behind your canine. Hold on.” 

Casually pinches his cheek and pokes around with his gauntlet.

“Lancer, do I have something stuck in my teeth? I can feel it.”

ASDJKL THIS IS SERIOUSLY THE BEST NEWS I HEARD ALL DAY!!!!

we’ll find out information at a later date but!!!

TEETH, FANGS GNASHED AT THE NOTION. Claws of his hand swept in a crescent, claiming threads of the other’s collar and halting exactly there to his side again. 

      “I’VE KILLED FOR LESSER INSULTS.”

The sprawled digits curled under tension inward, a motion the other wasn’t a stranger to but its effect begot another legend to manifest. Like the evil heart that beat next to the spirit’s own, inside, yet not there, a lie to provoke, no to tear to surface but to expose 

      “AND YOUR FAILURE PUTS THEIRS TO SHAME. YOU DARE COMPARING YOURSELF TO ME, THE LORD OF THIS CASTLE, YOU MISCREANT? LEARN WHERE EXACTLY YOU STAND.”

Laughable! Same influence, this stray thought given shape truly believed himself to be similar to him. For that idea he should be rewarded with a torture that paled next to death, a taste of these powers he dismissed. The Prince of Darkness stood at the peak, without compare, just as royalty did. A shame this spirit forgot the most basic of principles that defined a throne room. 

Berserker maintained face in the sweep of his collar. Even within someone’s else castle, he remained a king. Pride pinched his brows together. This man held no dominion over him.. but how quickly was his voice lost when he opened his mouth to respond.  His breathe skipped and he choked on an inhale. His facade broke with eyes wide. Fear ( foreign, intruding ) crawled down his senses before spasms shook his hands.A rush of energy burned his throat-- magic, his body wasn’t equipped for-- straight from the source into a packet of rumors and lies. “----!!”

@drakulya Starter

❀ Lily couldn’t tell what it was that had made the power go out, but what she did know was that she was finding herself growing scared in this darkness that now covered the room. There was likely no reason for her to be–It was Chaldea, after all–Nothing bad could really happen there. But it didn’t stop her from imagining all sorts of bad scenarios, like secret attacks by evil servants, invasion of monsters from a singularity, or another betrayal of sorts.

So, to run into someone as she tried to stumble her way through the darkness was more than enough to completely frighten her. Letting out a small squeak of fear, she found herself falling to the ground from the impact.

“W-Who is that? N-Name yourself immediately!” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but failed. “What are your intentions? Whoever you are, if you are plotting some sort of evil plan, I will stop you!” Bold claims for someone currently shaking on the ground in fear. ❀

Berserker loathed the curse of Dracula with his whole being, but it had some uses. He had no need for light when it was stolen and wasted no energy in trying to see in darkness. His eyes were better suited for it-- preferred it.  However, being so accustomed to it and for so long meant being so puzzled to see others helpless and blinded.   Even the young Saber bumbled with her arms outstretched. Would she avoid him if he simply stood there?  Clearly not. She bumped right into him. He sighed.

     “Hm. I commend yours as well.” To have such a lengthy, ferocious spar in quite a long time–no holds barred–left him feeling exceptionally pleased, with himself and his opponent of choice. Too long had it been since his blade was able to be free and slice viciously, the vibrations in his palms each time he struck like a chime of nostalgia. Theirs was a controlled madness; even in this mess they leave–ground turned scattered crater, walls caving inward with deep scars, a triumphant mark in his fellow Berserkers arm to show his own danger–this was nowhere near their full potential. For now, things were friendly. He stares the lance down while quietly sheathing his blade, briefly bowing in thanks before calming his stance and resuming his usual attitude.

     “If I am to be here without my army, then I must become the army itself. But you are are quite the defender–it was quite a challenge to hit you even once.” A hand raises to fix the collar of his shirt which was turned askew during their bout. “Overall, the spar was refreshing. What do you say, ka? Would you have me again, or would you rather fight with Okita? I’m sure you know how she fairs against the lot of us.”

Nausea stabbed him as if his call for stakes impaled the wrong thing. The whites of the Lancer’s eyes widened just as the veins in them became more visible. A disgust from the bottom of his being, from every inkling of his soul that resonated with their true name, spread to the wrinkles of his scowl and stirred the acid in his stomach. All these lines that reached nowhere on him,  ( all in sight of those wings that twisted and pinched their way into reality. )

He bit his teeth together, tasted wrath. Felt the fangs that bound them to the same fate. 

        “You… you have no right to claim salvation. You denied forgiveness, you denied love. You denied God. What you are now, you always had been; thus, you are my truth now more than ever, as that damned vampire that only mocks your pride but not my legend.”

       “ That is your revelation. Now stop. Your right for salvation - There is no right for those who bare their fangs at Him!”

Nonsense, nonsense. He bellowed from the depths of his throat, a voice that’d shatter lesser spirits in its wake and leave feeble wills crippled. A sweep with his hand was the command to his nameless soldiers- they’d never fail the arbiter. They condemned himself the most, with all of his viciousness, sparked from the ground in less than a forsaken heart-beat in reaching out for the Berserker. Where they sensed sin, they sought to burrow into and curse.

Skin? What skin?

      “Mrmph.“

And a protest to that murmuring, they both know better than to hide the truth between them like it’s a mismatched card shuffled in. The knight remained still, both arms folded before his chest. Too stubborn to be moved from his mindset, an immovable object. His luck showed for once, with the other self remembering who he was talking to and changing tone and subject.

        “Lancer’s pride is difficult to predict, he may erupt in an anger that makes both ours pale to remind us who is truth and who isn’t. I’ll be earnest, for I’ve lied enough to myself. I would kill him for his betrayal, for forsaking the legacy of our forefathers and turning his back on God. But I’d not want him to see this. 

     “I’ve no pride of my own but I wish neither to be laughed at nor pitied by either a friend or an enemy I’ve once considered family. Is the weight of shame not already shackle enough? Is the proof of curse in my mouth not enough? Or perhaps… I fear him saying this truth I already know. ‘Brother, you’ve always been this’.”

“Rrhmm.” As the words pressed heavier and heavier at his own pride, the blade threatened his throat..He looked away and swallowed. ’You’ve always been this’  still cut through him.  They divided themselves up by truth and legend to ease their troubles but the simple fact remained: the Lancer also held their Image to the world.  The wound of their reputation carved anew.

Their spar was long. Two Berserkers of equal pride and measure contained to such small confines was not without substantial damages. Floor tiles were ruined in struggle and pieces of wall cracked and indented. He stood with sizable chunk in his shoulder, the rest limb. From the other’s blade. They wielded their sword with the expertise Okita had told him about. Curious, but simply not enough. With his stronger arm, he pointed his lance forward at the man. “ You fight as if you had a whole army behind you, yet you stand and fight me alone. Color me impressed.. but in no way will I yield. Understand you face against one of the greatest defenders the world has known!  I commend your ferocity!  Time is up, we must return to being allies. ”

He does not bother his true self(s?) on Valentines but promptly appears in the morning, awaiting outside one of their doors. He grabs the wrist of one, then shuffles off to collect the other despite all the protest that may erupt.  That’s why God gave him two hands! To take hostage with each of them!  He drags them to the outside of Chaldea’s facility. New snow fell overnight and it suddenly became obvious that he had been out here. Snow was moved ,piled and shaped into miniature castles. Three of them. Berserker, the madman, turns around to face them ,expression pure determination.