O, chain of heaven

Merlin perks up instantly at the familiar voice, the petals at his ears lifting. “Lancer!” he says, in genuine delight. “It’s good to see you.” He’s almost surprised to find he means it.

Closing the distance between them, Merlin slings an arm around Enkidu’s shoulders conspiratorially. “So you’ve been brought here too, huh?” he asks, using his free hand to poke gently at Enkidu’s cheek. “It’s interesting, isn’t it. No summons… Yet here we are. If we have no master to obey, we can raise hell, ne?”

Or they could if their abilities weren’t so stifled. Merlin thinks–hopes–that Enkidu has been affected just like him. If he finds he’s been the only person so grievously afflicted, he’ll be quite cross.

“Ah, have you been housed at this miserable place too?” Merlin asks after a moment’s thought. “Or did you simply sense my radiant presence and come over to say hello~?”

The touch is to be expected, and it’s even---should they say---grounding. “I have,” they respond, putting up calmly with Merlin’s prodding. “It’s interesting, yes... there are many different types of people here, human or not.” Undoubtedly, Merlin knows as much, but it’s something that stands out to Enkidu as being particularly of interest. Distractedly, they puff out their cheeks so that the next time Merlin pokes one, he’ll be met with much more resistance. 

Only to deflate a moment later so they can speak again, after some consideration. “Ah... well, we’re still bound by contract to our Master,” they remind him. “But having a bit of fun isn’t bad either, now and then.” Which essentially means that they’re being a bit of a terrible enabler---or as much of one as they can be, when each of their abilities as Servants have been driven so far into the ground.

The station is crowded today, likely due to the fact that everyone is trying to get out of the dry, stinging sandstorms of the Sea of Tranquility. The weather is as fickle as a certain goddess, Enkidu muses as they stretch their legs out slightly in front of them in their seat on the platform bench. They don’t mind it, but as ever, humans don’t tend to like sand when it’s flying into their face at great speeds.

The trees here are ancient, towering things that reach toward the sky unbendingly. They’re not cedar, but they certainly remind Enkidu of another forest that was. These trees don’t respond to their presence as others would, but the very fact that they exist is reassurance enough that this world can’t be that different from the one they’ve been taken from.

Their holophone tells them they’re nearby the Lampadias Suites, which should rest just beyond this line of trees in the grove that they surround. Their Presence Detection tells them that there’s a very large, powerful individual storming about around those Suites.

Really, the presence goes in and out: Enkidu’s ability isn’t strong enough any more to track it around its whole circuit, but thankfully, it’s making its rounds, so they never completely lose its position. At some point, they become curious, and poke their head around the trunk of the tree they’re standing behind, only to be met with a form they’ve never seen before.

They don’t dwell on that for long, though. They step out from behind the tree, walk forward a couple of steps; they’ve always been one to seek out things that piqued their interest---at least, whenever they could. And so they do so now, with the negligence of not having a Master to protect.

They’d been returning to their room in the Palilicium, and unwillingly, at that: the Sea of Tranquility had been hard to leave, what with its verdant foliage, its familiarity, its nearness to another forest they knew well. By the time they’d stepped foot onto the train, it had started to snow, and they’d almost missed the departure for standing stock-still, staring at the sky with a slight smile on their face. But they hadn’t missed it, and so, regrettably, they had returned to the Sea of Crises.

Regrettably, because as soon as they step off the train, they are very nearly knocked off their feet by a full-on blizzard.

By all rights, should they at least be a bit used to this? Perhaps. Chaldea did exist at the epicenter of a snowstorm, after all. But it was one thing to see the flurries spiraling up toward the mountaintop through a window, and another to stand in the middle of a freezing gale. Enkidu isn’t bothered by the cold, but the tiny bits of snow that pelt their face and wet their hair and cloak are somewhat more irritating.

They’re not in a hurry to retire to their room, so they figure they may well take shelter for a bit. Besides, the thick layer of snow on every building softens the harsh decrepit lines common to the Mare Crisium, and it’s not a bad thing to see. There’s another presence there, but they duck under a tattered awning, anyway; it’s not the best place to take cover from the storm, but it does give them the opportunity to swipe their snow-laden hair back from their face and regain at least a partial field of sight.

The city here is different than the ones they’ve visited in Chaldea. Even Fuyuki, with its charred-husk buildings and smoldering alleyways, is different somehow from this---the Mare Crisium is dark, foreboding, sprawling and winding to its core. Enkidu has barely spent a day wandering the streets, but they’re nearly disconcerted by just how little of the Sea they can say that they know. It’s made more inconvenient by the fact that they can’t feel out the landmarks they know are there, relying only on that twenty-foot radius of Presence Detection.

They walk back into the lobby of the Palilicium, intending on sitting by the fireplace for a bit and figuring out what they should do next. It’s evening by now, and the lighting inside of the building is scarcely brighter than the outside---but it’s not too dim for them to notice a ring of flowers sprouting up from between the floorboards.

They kneel down beside the plants, touching them curiously---gently---with a single finger; they’ve begun to wither, not having the elements to properly develop here in the gloomy building, but unmistakably, they’re daylilies, the flush of color across the petals apparent. Enkidu looks up, gray eyes just barely widened with surprise. The trail of wilting flowers leads across the lobby, up the staircase, in patches just the width of a footfall. 

Enkidu stands and walks over to the wall, feet padding lightly across the cool floor. The world feels muffled; they feel the mana signatures of several living things throughout this building, both on the floor they’re on and on the floor below it, but they should be able to feel much more. 

They should be able to trace the lay of the land for kilometres in each direction, feel each heartbeat that hides below the floorboards, but curiously, they can’t. They look down at their hand, flex their fingers; those, at least, are the same as always, but there’s something intangibly different. A few moments confirm it: they can’t change their shape any more, as they’ve always been able to. There’s no outward reaction to this but a slight frown, a forlorn look toward the opposite side of the room.

They wonder, idly, if they’ve been summoned for a different war---but that can’t be the case. Otherwise, they would have each of their powers, an arsenal at the disposal of their Master. That’s the reason they would be summoned, after all. So, why are they here?

The answer comes sooner than Enkidu would have thought. Poking around the room, they pick up a small phone, and as they do it lights up in their hand. Their eyes scan over the text quickly, after which they sigh, this time smiling wryly. They’re no stranger to being taken to different places, or even different worlds, but this is the first where they remember their last Master, as well as the first where they haven’t had their abilities at their disposal.

They tuck the phone into the band of their pants and then smooth out their cloak. "Well, things like this can’t be helped, can they?" they ask softly of an imaginary listener, walking over to the door of the room and laying their hand on the handle. There’s nothing else to it but to accept it, and make something interesting of it.