SALVATION BE DAMNED

                                                     @keiisho​​:  ❛ if i can still breathe , i’m fine . ❜

       “No, you are not. You might be used to that bumbling fool of a man and his blatant disregard for normalcy, but he had the capacity to endure it. Are you a conqueror? A warmonger? A man with dreams set as far as the horizon with an army of men and steeds to chase it with? No, you are not. You would be no less than a fool to think of yourself so highly.” 

       Has he always thought himself invulnerable in such a way? No... the puny and insignificant mage from her memories writhed and cried at every opportunity if it so much as stunk of danger. Always preferring the safer methods, always preferring to stay out of things that he needn’t be involved in... this was the same, cowardly boy that stood by the King of Conquerors back then? Aureate irises glean over his bones, thin and weary from numerous battles against sleep. Decades of dedication have cost him his own sense of self-preservation. What would the King of Conquerors think if he saw him in this state? Chewed down to nothing but a pile of ashes and good sentiments? Speaking of that man, though...

        ...If her eyes sharpen their perception on him just by a hair, the shadow of the crimson cape that once fluttered brilliantly in the wind can be seen draped behind his back. 

       “Yet, you do not need those things to be accomplished. As you are right now, it is more than sufficient. ...Is it not? Compared to back then?” Arturia cracks her usual, crooked smile -- but there is more behind it today.

                                                 @perfidess​​:  ❛  i  can  and  i  will  .  watch  me  .  ❜

       WHO IS SHE TO CAGE A LION WHOSE FANGS AND CLAWS WERE SHARPENED AND READY? Passion dies in captivity and the temper this one commands is worthy of authority. Ghastly lips muse pleasant possibilities. “One of honor and virtue, are you? You could have fooled me.” 

       Into believing she was among the rambunctious bar-dwellers, that is. For too long of a time now, a hoard of drunkards have had their fists drawn for conflict. Stemming from a simpleton’s argument that bartenders existed to be cradled by lecherous eyes, the very notion of a belief so disgusting riled the air between fellow attendees; the chivalric and the blasphemous. Who would win, she wonders? 

🌹 : Such would be as they say a special occasion, her glory not to be solely enjoyed but shared together. For when the emperor shined, her king too, would shine. As woman would soon find out once a mistake is addressed. Luckily for other her reactions were the quickest and bestest (among other things), thus denying the grave possibility of her acquaintance with the ground. Though perhaps soon to be judged by her expression, she may have preferred that outcome to be reality.

Now, she found herself pulled up and tucked away, cradled in her arms not like a child but as if a bride. Looking up to what was certainly a smile, gleeming brightly. “Grace is not your strength, is it my love?” Lightly laughing, she’d slow her pace ever slightly. “Would you like me to leave you at the shore? Or, would you prefer I continue to carry you like this?” Emperor had her preference, but she would not intrude.

      EVALUATING THESE CONSEQUENCES WITH A LEVELED MIND, it would have been better to suffer the fall than dealt the hand of humility from none other than Nero herself. Behind closed doors, the tyrant has little to no problem letting the Empress have her way. As a matter of fact, the feeble attempts on her end were amusing. Cute, even, if only due to the fact control was within range whenever she so wished. 

      So forget grace. Forget dignity. Did her lover just insinuate the very idea of forsaking her to the wayside? “Have I no other option? I refuse both. If I were to have things my way, Nero, our roles would be reversed, and it would be I carrying you through the crowd.” Relinquish her! Let her try again, this time, with two iron grips on the Roman’s dominant one. ...What? She refused the thought of being a bride, not the thought of holding hands. “Nero. Think about it my way. The fiercer my strokes on this floor, the more ice I spurn. With it, I could create a bowl of shaved ice big enough for both of us.” 

“A little bit of effort goes a long way.” It was an example she could learn from, while she had this opportunity. Occupied hands would pet the dog as he speaks, a glare given from that was fitting on these features as well. “Who’s to say with you? To claim you’re the same Saber I knew is stupid and you know that.” As was he a different man, though suppose in this scenario he was more woman than anything.

After a sufficient amount of attention was given to pup, he’d stand and approach before scene got bloody. “Put down the knife before you hurt yourself and me. We both know you have no cooking skills. Did you even bother to wash that before using it?” Let him avoid this now, as he reaches for wrist. An effort made to stop. “Why don’t you sit down? I don’t want to know what happens if you die in that body.”

     INSINUATING THAT SHE WAS A REVOLTING SIGHT TO BEAR WITH SLOPPY HAIR? Choice words. Choice words, indeed. “I would vandalize the structure of your hair right now, but I’ve no desire to see Shirou at the moment.” Aggravating as he is, she’s tempted to test that theory. If one perishes in another body, would both souls simply come to rest in one until the events transpire?

      “It’s your lucky day, Archer. I’ve decided against ceasing this life. I cannot imagine what sharing a body would be like. ...Heh.” It tickles her. In a sardonic, wicked way, it tickles her. Surrendering the knife to the man who wields them, she observes as he approaches the counter, only to appear offset. “Have you realized it?” The blessing of being tall is quite grand. “I wish you the best of luck adjusting to my height. Have you ever felt so low? ...Don’t ruin my fingers. I need those.”

“Oh?”

Her curiosity was piqued, but seeing one of many blondes that frequented Chaldea (at least the Queen’s specific Chaldea) did not surprise her. This island was a hub for Servants and non-Servants alike, and so to see a somewhat familiar face was no longer any reason for alarm. 

However, Medb had learned that it was important to learn just where a Servant was from, as those not familiar with Chaldea would become somewhat more difficult to deal with. So, upon hearing what else the other Servant had to say caused the Rider to smile.

“Ufufu… you’re not wrong, it is important for Servants to get along, especially those of us that have come from Chaldea.”

“So, feel free to rely on me, okay?”

       THAT STATEMENT SHOULDN’T BE SAID SO PLAINLY. For an Alter to be given advantage in any situation makes it a dire one, with the first casualty here being the woman’s wallet.

       “Hmph. Very well. It will be your funeral. I intend to make immediate use of your hospitality.”

       And off they go, with her already taking full liberties of this alleged kindness. ( She’s certain this isn’t what she had in mind when she said to rely on her, but oh well. ) The targeted destination is a stand selling various crepes down the block. 

🌹 : Where should she begin? A kingdom would be nice, but surely something expected. A theater would also be wonderful, as she’d gone too long without performing! How else would she receive the praise that she deserved? Then, a sea of roses! Enough she could drown her own home with, till they poured into the surrounding area marking a rather beautiful display.

Alas, such luxuries were not available to. Not as exaggerated, as the emperor of roses would like. Yet she finds herself at peace with the modest surroundings and celebration decorations other had chosen for. Her attempts surely marking inadequacies, but effort as well. Such tasks are difficult for the king after all, and to expect them from while still preferred were a bit much. With time she’d grown understanding.

..Even, fine with. So long the jewel that was her king remained.. other details were merely details. Luxuries for those who had access to them, while she contents herself with this. An applause would surely follow once other finishes, cut only as the emperor pulls the king in with undeniable intent. Her heel, weakened, and the emperor with the position of power over. Back of other was to be bent, as Nero gazes over lovingly. Dry as mouth was, she would take lead from here on a prove her ability. There was a line she had rehearsed after all, and it’s time had finally came.

“When is it, that I shall enjoy my gift then?”

     SINCE WHEN DID SHE BECOME SO BRAVE? Bloom so brilliantly without consideration for those left behind to hang on her bristly thorns? The Alter’s eyes fail to meet hers; a sign that she has lost the contest of gazes. She can but swelter beneath the glow of her lover. “Hmph. This is the cost of inadequacy, is it?” Failing to deliver the grandeur befitting of an Emperor’s tastes means that she must create it herself. 

       Mistake it not, however. Arturia hasn’t the faintest thought to contest wishes. “You idiot... there is yet another gift you have not received. You will have what you want, just -- just...” Wait. Damn it all. The path to this decision was supposed to be paved more smoothly, with their positions ideally reversed. How could this have happened?

       Because it’s Nero, a voice scolds. Always the unpredictable and dramatic one. It is maddening that she did not account for this possibility. Fumbling around with her gloved fingers, she reaches into the pocket of her retired costume and extracts a prim box coated with gold. Within is a locket matching its protective case, sculpted with the hand of an artisan to reflect aureate roses blooming across its glean.

       Inside the locket itself, if she were to open the clasp, is it an infinitesimally small music box fixed to play the melody of a lyre. Nero likes it, doesn’t she? She, herself, is far too inept to attempt such a thing, so she may have hired someone to fix a tune worthy for her ears. ...There is also a ring ( a promise ring, mind you ) hidden beneath the locket’s bedding, but she’s lost the nerve to say anything about it. Nero will see it herself when she chooses to. This is all really just too much.

Let it be known. Her idiocy, had truly reached a peak. He had thought it to be impossible considering her current condition, but even now she shows herself to be a gluttonous moron. Some things never do change, do they? Scoffing, folded arms would tighten. “You ask of something I can’t do.” Projection was no longer known to him, just his reinforcement. Something he’d need to do to deal with at this rate.

“What harm is there in using your items? I care for my tools better than you, after all.” He is still a craftsman. One devoted to weapons and the liking. Getting up, he’d open doors and expose all she had to use before making a ruling. “They are made to used. Nothing more. Someone like yourself should know this better than anyone else. Unless, you’ve gotten soft?”

     COMPLAIN ANY MORE THAN THAT AND SHE’LL CUT THAT TONGUE CLEAN OFF. It is not as if he can feel the thing anymore, anyway. Would he rather she go massacre the masses? Even as an Alter, she is not to senseless as to slay innocents. Now, if there was a true threat, then it would be different. Fetching the ocelot, she opts to play with it as an attempt to distract her hands from delivering justice.

     “Fine. You think to challenge me? I accept. I hardly know what you expect from me in turn, but you will be damned. I promise that much.” Be it from joy or not. Pacing to the fridge, she opens it to an array of foods. None of these hers, mind you. Nero’s. “Meat. Cheese. Parmesan. Fruit? It... looks like she threw away my McDonald’s from last week.” She seems hurt. “Can we make that? McDonald’s?”

TO : Stupid Fool

You must have lost your mind if you think I’m complying with that request. Oh wait, you did. Regardless, that’s not happening. That body doesn’t need that much food, and you’re not stuffing more into it than needed. I’m coming over now, and making us something to eat.

The absolute nerve of her. Even if he was forced to tolerate these conditions he’d have some to impose right back. The parts he could control, at least. Either way he’d soon arrive back at his own home, with the slight change to himself in tow. Funny, it seem pet would still recognize as he’d kneel over to give it some deserved pats. “You didn’t do anything to him, right?”

      AH, THE COURAGE ON THIS ONE. To defy her in such a way despite his seemingly tepid demeanor in Chaldea’s halls, cooking for everyone else without even objecting... who does he think he is? “...Define doing something.” 

🌹 : My how the tables had turned on the King! Normally the other woman takes her throne as the confident contender she is, impulsively and brashly taking as she sees fit from the emperor. Yet now she a little less than harmless, and adorable as so. Enough to increase emperor’s yearning for, offering her both a smile and a laugh. “You are contributing as is! An excellent supporter to my endeavors! One that shall be blessed on this day.” Yet the manner she would go about, certainly should catch off guard.

Often she plays the role of damsel to her knight, however on this occasion allow her to demonstrate the authority that an emperor holds above a king. Plucked and lifted from the ice, arms would take up and have no intention of releasing. Yes, that very hold would protect and shroud her this time. Could it be possible she would never let go, but for now Nero entertains the thought of a bridal carry of treasure as momentum begins. Skates, moving forward. “Allow me to spoil you, on this occasion.”

        THIS IS ASININE. Isn’t there a saying that an old tiger can’t change its stripes? Balance seems to be a thing of the distant past now that she is wobbling on the ice. Compared to the Emperor’s marvelous jumps, she’s but a fledgling learning how to walk. It’s worse when one thinks about the attention she draws naturally. Numerous eyes roam toward Nero just to see the mass of disappointment crawling alongside her.

9:00A.M, Monday, December 9th

          . . .

This was the moment of truth. Would lady luck be on her side or will Arturia face the consequences of her actions? Said consequences being currently unknown for the Boss cannot remember if either of them even placed a bet to begin with. No matter, this will be decided once this woman’s fate was revealed.

Reaching for another card, he begins to purposefully turn it face up as slow as possible, letting the tension build and build until it was more so annoying than theatrical. And as soon as it reached that point of no return, the Boss would turn the card to reveal…….

“ Well shit, dude. You got yourself a two of hearts. Congratulations. ” He slides the card over to her before finally responding. “ I’unno. I like to think you got your own form of charisma. Just doesn’t happen to be one that vibes well with a lot of people. ” Surprising how he wound up not falling into that category.

“ Oh god no, don’t do that. You’d make yourself look like one of those sad bastards who hang out at casinos all day and night. They’re suuuper pathetic. For real though, I’m sure there’s something out in the city that’d fit you perfectly. ”

      FITTING FOR SOMEONE WITH C RANK LUCK. Presently, it is closer to D, but she supposes it's possible for the dice to roll in her favor every once in a while. She won’t expect it next time. “H’oh? Is that so? I believe it’s time for my reward.” Needless to say, they did not discuss collateral prior to him tutoring her, but she expects it nonetheless. 

      For the time being, she’ll have her open palm extended on the table until he conjures an unspecified sacrifice from his belongings. “Vibes well?” Without the aid of the Grail, modern day slang is lost on her.

      ...Alternatively, why are words so nonsensically ambiguous in this day and age? There can be as many as ten words for one definition. How needless.

      “And yet, a sad bastard I am. I am a corrupted version of a King that once shone at the center of the World’s End, after all. Yet, if anyone dared to call me pathetic, they would answer to my blade.” She smirks at the thought, her imagination attempting to configure a face for said offender. “Jests aside, I lack charisma. I cannot lead. My merit is my indiscriminate strength. For one reason or another, the careers that best utilize me are ones tucked in the shadows. I wonder why that is?”

They were a strange broken bunch. Maybe their similarities is why they all flocked together, attempting to band as one as a means to cover their own pain. Or maybe he’s just reading too hard into a bunch of idiots, himself included. “It doesn’t do much. You’ll get used to it.” At least, so long this continued. If nothing else it was good for reminding, otherwise he would’ve forgotten to bring anything.

Then again, what are convenience store goods to a feast? “Ho-hos, zebra cakes, oreos..” What else? Oh yeah, other things the others suggested. “Some liquor, and..” Rolls of meat, least he assumes that’s what they were. Placing on the table, he’d take a seat as the thing waltzed about. “I don’t have a kitchen. If you were expecting me to cook..” Hm. A look over eyes her own stuff, before snorting lightly. “It would have to be with your things.”

      COOK? AN ASININE SUGGESTION. He cast the right judgment by retrieving those trashy goods. “Unless you can make a formidable burger, I am not interested in your ploys. This kitchen is no longer my own, so I cannot welcome you to destroy it however you wish.” Ah, the pleasantries she pays for her loved one. 

     “What we do have, however, is meat. Meat, and bread. There is also pasta.” If they are any bit alike, he should have no competency in the kitchen. Then again, even her competent form lacked grace there. “Nero intended to cook meatballs, but I will purchase replacements accordingly. Make me a burger. Use bread if you wish, or use pasta as the bread. Envsion it, Blackened Archer -- a beef ravioli the size of a hamburger bun. Three slices of cheese. Four sticks of butter. Ten shakes of salt. That would constitute a complete feast. ...Do it. Trace it, now.” 

🌹 : Simply observe her greatness! Standby and prepare to give her praise! She is a natural performer after all, and when offered an opportunity to shine it would be amiss of her not to perform to par if not beyond! Frozen over water body made for a magnificent massive rink to skate, it’s size only comparable to her own glory.

Twirls and spins flash her still capable agility ability, as she flies about only stopping to arrive by the shore where lover rested. Be it from cautious approach or maybe even fear, she doesn’t know. Regardless she slows once nearing, her confident demeanor summarized in one noise. Umu. “Had you ample time yet, Arturia? Or must I impress you once more with my talent?”

      ALAS, she does not share the same Saint Graph as that of her Rider form. Otherwise, she would be contesting the haughty woman herself. Instead, she is forced to observe from the farthest form of the rink. At a glance she would fool even the most inept of people; the blades of her skates were dug so viciously into the ice that she appeared to be holding herself upright without aid. Truthfully, she had utilized one of her Mana Bursts for the day to bury herself in place.

🌹 : Heart would flutter in a blink of the eye, as she was swept off her feet swiftly reminded of other’s antics. Emperor had quickly become putty in their hands, a fevered shade taking over her cheeks. Arms in reflex would reach for, wrapping themselves around her neck for balance as mingled breaths are shared. It be preferred other give red a moment, more so after so efficiently stealing her breath away. Emotions had been numbed for some time now in defense of reality, and just like so.. she felt light headed.

Faint, even. Feelings were fleeting, head was spinning. Just give her a second, keep other close in arms. Eyes would close as she slowly feels herself begin to settle, the sense of protection arms had offered reminded now. Head would lean in, and simply rest. Deep exhale would leave her nose, as she was sedated.

“..I missed you.”

      TENDER AS EVER IS HER VELVETEEN ROSE, her thorns no longer as barbed as they once were. For a while, the skin of the empress once felt like winter, the feeling of unfamiliarity like ice beneath her touch. Never should their roles have reversed to where the fallen king displayed more of a fiery passion than the celestial flame herself, but they did. “It has been too long. I tired of waiting for you, even when you were here.”

      Floating between her rift of memories, a semblance of a smile momentarily warms her features as she relishes in the feeling. Knowing that her efforts and persistence have borne fruit gratifies her beyond relief. “Did you enjoy your journey, my rose?” In spite of how she viciously reveled in the emotions that screamed ‘this is unforgivable’, she can only find herself succumbing to Nero’s hold. “I have kept your house warm. But, it appears that you have found a new one. ...I will only say this once. Wherever you go, I shall follow. I advise you warn the King of Conquerors to beware of my intrusion.”

“ That would be correct. ”

Already she’s toeing the line between winning or losing given that the value of a face card will always be ten. As she put it ever so bluntly, it was all a matter of luck at the end. You either had it or you didn’t. Even cheating relied heavily on the phenomenon as you had to make sure that no one feature of the game currently at play would rouse any suspicion.

From the deck of cards he presents to Arturia a five of diamonds, placing it down in front of her before finally responding. “ Sometimes that’s the best thing you could ask for. ” A pause. “ Honestly I like to look at these games as a way t’ read people, especially when there are stakes involved. Kinda brings out something in people you normally don’t see. ” He gives the other a shrug before continuing.

“ Speaking of that whole officer gig, you thought about what you’ll be doing since that’s kinda not there? I mean I guess it’s still around, though not as stable. ”

      NINETEEN. To hit, or not to hit? Had he not lured her with her pride on the line, she likely would have folded. However, to stand down before tipping the score would ‘bring out something in her’ that people normally don’t see. Normally, her disposition is one that invokes intimidation. Maintaining that persona would require upholding her honor by contending her challenges. “...Hit.”

      The likelihood of a bust is high. She knows this. Prepared regardless, she salutes her back against a chair and averts her sights toward the glimmering lights above. “No. The career was a valuable occupant of my time. It cannot be easily replaced. The prospect of maintaining control intrigues me  -- however, I have neither the motivation nor the charisma to establish a new order. Yet, I cannot be jobless. ....Hmph. I suppose the position of a gambler cannot be considered ‘stable’ either.” 

        IN THE OBSCURITY OF THE NIGHT, shadows cannot be identified by their morality. If there is anyone foolish enough to pace behind her, she knows not of their contribution to the scales of good and evil; she knows only that they must be eradicated. There’s been a weight on her heels for a while now. The Broken Circles of Mistwood have always been proficient in inciting fear in others.

        Spurning her ankles without warning, she pivots toward the creature stalking her, Excalibur Morgan in hand. She manages to pierce the monstrous entity, but what surprises her more, is the image of another with a wooden sword in the opposite end of her foe -- as if he, too, had lurched forth in an attempt to protect her. It is not so much this that displaces her as does the fact that she failed to notice him.