truth is my weapon.

‘Idle hands do the devils work.’ Hardly something he thought about but to remain thus while moving in intervals, patiently observing each reaction to the thunderous reverberation from the mountain’s path. One that was normal ill-accessible with each strolling strep through the passing days in his machinations to get familiar with his new … ‘domain’. 

It was all very unlike what he was known to walk through but familiar in the least, confusing mix of knowns and unknowns. 

It was easy to remain momentarily stationary, even as all the sounds coalesced into one deafening static of a environment growing in familiarity. Razel couldn’t seem to find the remaining energy to be complacent in it all. To move with the static and become the amalgamated, blended chaos of it all was familiar at its core. So the sudden fog, the reminiscent pressure of heat settling behind his eyes and into his limbs when it all comes to a head; is nothing more to him than enhanced challenge to stay in motion. 

“Greetings indeed.” He returns, his steps cut short by this sudden make of conversation. Seemingly in it for the same build of curiosity, though the methods may have been different all the same. “Assuming your guess is that in the realm of following a noise to sate curiosity of what makes that silhouette of a statue so … precious? Perhaps.” Razel gives a brief chuckle with a smile playing across his features. 

“And to also assume, you too are heading to investigate this uknown as well?” 

In life, he had oft hunted down all manner of demons and devils, found himself related to some hiding underneath a human face, but Chaldea has taught him to reserve his judgment for genuine terror, and he continues the conversation with a resolute nod.

❝Naturally; there is only so much one can speculate from an outsider’s perspective. That, and...❞ his lips twist in conveyance of skepticism, and morbid curiosity, ❝the added whisperings of the things that lay in wait the further one goes piqued my interest.❞

Enemies are faster to come across in one’s life than genuine comrades, and even those comrades might withhold secret intentions meant to meddle with the turn of events. However, the beings he’s come across in his life are capable of more than what a few iron-tipped arrows can accomplish, even if he were to muster all of his strength in releasing them between the eyes. He shakes his head, taking a deep breath and looking back once more to his temporary companion.

Would you like a slice of black forest cake, Miss Irisviel? Unfortunately, while I cannot claim to have made it myself, I can still vouch for its quality.         from @sunpiercer​

‶ OH, ARCHER ! ″   she’s positively giddy,  ‶ you remembered my favorite !  please, set it down anywhere there’s room     no, actually, i’ll make some space ! ″

whatever had cluttered the nearest table quickly finds itself stacked precariously; a tower of books and binders and picture frames, topped with a flower and its homely vase. irisviel doesn’t appear to even humor the notion that it could topple over, already procuring the appropriate silverware     two sets thereof, even.

‶ i’d love a slice !  you’ll have one too, right ? ″

He blinks owlishly as the tower of things wobbles e'er briefly, muscles locking as if its balance hinges on if he so much as breathes in its general direction. While he shifts direct focus to Irisviel, he cannot help but divide part of that attention to the tower, not even realizing she intended to share the cake with him.

❝Again you stand in my way...❞ he mutters to himself, eyes narrowed in tried attempt to see past the denseness, then sighting an unfamiliar figure approaching. ❝—!!❞ In a singular, fluid motion, he nocks Gandiva and aims it at the silhouette, eyes wide & trained. While his beloved bow might not possess its original strength blessed by prominent flames, it is not as if he required the divine to earn a score of carcasses.

That is, until he relaxes his pose, arrow held idly between his fingers as one would a pencil. He senses no immediate danger and admittedly feels bashful that confronting familiar specters elevated his awareness to paranoid degrees. With a bow of his head, he clears his throat to speak.

❝Ahem... Apologies, for pointing my weapon towards you. It seems spending far too long here has affected me more than it should. Perhaps it would behoove the both of us to return to the entrance.❞

This is where he stands now: head craned skywards to the towering mountain, then back down to an earthen maw spewing ominous fog. With minimal effort, his vision enhances & attempts to pierce through the brume. Past the lights, grazing the statues, & just as he believes himself capable of perceiving the other end, his observations hit their limit, stopped by what feels like a subtle pressure behind his eyes. He dares not chance it at the moment. Lips pull taut, shoulders descending with a disappointed exhale.

His head turns quickly when contemplation ( resolved to march into the unknown ) is cut short by the rustling of grass, grip on his bow loosening when met with another. Arjuna nods politely, cutting straight to business, making a vague gesture towards the cave.

❝Greetings. I suppose your guess is as good as mine regarding this peculiar turn of events?❞