SOVEREIGN.

Ritsuka is no stranger to Servants acting as if they know one thing only to not have the slightest clue and although Cnoc na Riabh wasn't a Servant, she can still sort of tell the same principal applies here. even so, she's not going to point it. half because she does not want to deal with another one of the faerie's 'training regimes' and half out of curiosity to see just how long she'll keep it going.

⠀⠀⠀WHAT ⠀the hell else was she supposed to say ?! If she looked too lost, her pride would take a significant dent. Naturally, her mind wanders to her rival; did she understand all of this as it was told to her ? Having spent far more time with Chaldea's Master than herself, Cnoc na Riabh is certain it's come up before. It only makes her that much more determined to nod deeply along with everything the young woman's saying; some of it even she's been told before, but just as she predicted, hearing it again doesn't make the mental picture any less blurry.

It's moments like this where he wonders if being summoned to this place—twice now come to think of it—was actually as bad as he made it out to seem. There are plenty of things that Django still longs for; his life as a gangster, his family and friends, the sense of excitement and power that running a notorious gang brought him. He misses the world he lived in and the opportunity he had to explore every facet of it. He misses the simple joys of life, his dogs, his hometown, and most of all his freedom.

But perhaps there is freedom in having to live on Radiale. There is a chance to enjoy life without the constant pressure of running a large criminal organization and having the vast majority of the world out for your blood. The never ending cycle of violence has been broken—albeit with the occasional island experiment causing Django to have to play his part. There is no reason to be tense. No purpose in having his guard up. If anything, this was always his chance to finally relax for once. To breathe.

Food for thought, surely. Seems like this tends to happen whenever Django finds himself in a calm state of mind. All manner of ideas bubbling up to the surface because for once they aren't being thrown under the rug haphazardly. Maybe it's something to take into consideration. I mean, it's what she would have wanted for him.

Speaking of; in an almost cruel twist of fate, as Django's eyes follow the beautiful array of lights being reflected off the glass, they would seemingly lead him to something he was, to be quite honest with you, not prepared to handle today, if ever.

She was like a ghost who had come to personally haunt him. A reminder of a kind of life and happiness that had vanished long ago without warning. Still as radiant as the day they had met all those years ago. My god would you just look at her. The poor bastard has no idea how to feel. Happy? Confused? Sad? Calling this a mixed bag of emotions wouldn't cut it. This was like a tornado; violent and powerful. Ready to bring him to his knees if it so wished.

Yet despite it all his features soften. He looks upon her with an expression of such bittersweet melancholy. Because despite all he currently feels, despite all the things Django wishes he could say or do right now, this isn't her. They may look nearly identical, but this is not the same woman he had once called his beloved years prior. The woman he had gone off to marry and spend a blissful existence with for just half a year more.

" ......... "

This was someone entirely new.

⠀⠀⠀But it's also a very selfish desire that brings her here. Cnoc na Riabh just wanted to see something lovely and delicate, that was all. Many talked about the breathtaking spectacle once the sun went down, and like many of life's simpler things, she couldn't resist seeing it for herself. The ash falls like snow thanks to the glow of the lights, but it lacks the crunch when one walks. It adds to the surreal nature of it all, and she admits she's quite taken by it. But she isn't so taken that she can't feel when someone's stare lingers on her far too long. Like a prickling sensation along the nape of her neck, instinct urges her to look past the kaleidoscope effect playing out in front of her; it doesn't take long to find the source.

⠀⠀⠀The closer she gets to him, the more pitiful she thinks he looks. His expression is equal parts yearning and resignation, and she isn't sure which side has won him over. Her hands rest on her hips, and she appraises him with far more neutrality — albeit a hint of the natural amusement that comes with curiosity. She's used to being ogled at by those who don't know any better, even more so since coming to this island, but this is more than a fleeting fancy — it doesn't take much personal experience to see that.

The people in front of either of them turn to look back as if silently asking them to be quieter, to which the au ra shoots them a look as if to say 'Why don't you mind your own business?' and they hurriedly turn back around in their own seats. "And she still intends on marrying him despite what he's put her through! Love perseveres, or something like that. Well, only in the right circumstances I say. Not when he seemingly cannot choose between you and your closest friend." She huffs, her dismay is all but apparent.

⠀⠀⠀She remains unimpressed as their dear heroine reaffirms her love, which — if Cnoc did say so herself, which she does — was utterly wasted on this wishy-washy love interest. And as the two spectators speak, the two 'lovebirds' draw closer to reconciliation. There seems to be a fly in the ointment, however, considering he hesitates to accept her offer in favor of monologuing to the audience about his tortured feelings. Her dear lifelong friend, after all, was just so remarkable and free-spirited. Whereas her newfound companion tastes bitterness, the wayward Queen of Britain practically spits fire.

and still, the small star in the storm shines.

she was born from it, and her worries and concerns are all intrinsically tied up together, leaving her a spectator in a theater whose infamous play ended millennia ago. that girl is her but that girl is not her, and if she were capable of loving Artoria less, she would refuse to indulge in her ordinary desires: spending time together with friends, wearing a hairpin on her wild and messy blonde locks, laughing until her chest hurts from every good feeling bubbling up. it is easier said than done, however, and she is intimately aware of her short-comings. window shopping is not difficult per se — her legs refuse to enter and purchase anything, and this is how she peers with a longing impossible to hide.

if she was more the envoy of paradise than that girl, the voice snapping her from her self-deprecation would not cause her heart to be squeezed so painfully, breath hitching and unable to stop the tears threatening to escape.

⠀⠀⠀That was made nearly impossible now.

⠀⠀⠀Watching her activated an instinct Cnoc na Riabh wasn't even sure she possessed; a hand grips her shoulder, bunching tightly at the material as she steps in closer. Seeing her lose composure like this for someone else — for her — makes the event she can't remember, the betrayal she's shoved aside, all too real. It brings into sharp focus just how callous and unceremonious an end it must've been. Although concern for Artoria is her top priority at the moment, the delayed yet inevitable reaction settles like an unbearably bitter taste on her tongue; in short, she's monumentally pissed off.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"— Hot chocolate, eh? Well, I can't magically make hot water on the fly, but..." Oh well, she asked— after quick dash as the newly-fallen snow whirls around, only this time Rider is actually gone for a noticeable stretch of time. Just long enough for him to get his sink at home to get hot water ready. Now to open one of those mixing powder bags, pour it all into a cup and stir... There—

besides, she behaves. she behaves so much, it is not like she tries to set things on fire on accident.

“Do you think if I use Merlin’s magecraft I could run away with all the food?”

It still makes it a little awkward to fit herself at the northern fae's table, though, especially combined with her sturdy, yet bulky suit of armor. Truth be told, even though she wasn't certain there were hard feelings between them, a part of her expected that she might simply be dismissed. Given both Barghest's steadfast loyalty to her enemy and the fact that, at the end of the day, the Tam Lin had betrayed her Queen, it would have been understandable.

And even that would be far from the worst of her crimes. Had Cnoc na Riabh heard the whispered tales of Barghest the Glutton, she wondered?

"Either are good." As fae, of course, neither of them need to drink--but Barghest at least knows enough to understand it's something one does in a social situation. Tea or coffee...she'll drink either, honestly, if it's made clear one would be preferable over the other. But left to her own choice, she prefers the more stable shot of energy tea tends to give rather than the jitters coffee gives her. It's...more easily controlled.

⠀⠀⠀❛ ⠀I live in what they refer to as Archimedes Ward. That means I'm right by the ocean all day, every day. All that sea spray does wonders for your hair, so I'm sure mine is sparkling even more than it used to.⠀ ❜ ⠀She runs her fingers idly through the bright strands as she speaks, her voice equally slow and casual. When the question's a dud, all one has to do is talk so far around it that an entirely new topic comes up.