#;;alter

Fingers brush a bang away from the Alter’s face before she takes a moment to sit beside him ins silence. It’s silent around here just enough that there’s little unease. Oh, she recalls the first time they’d ran into one another, how she opened her mouth with little fear. Idiotic or a strong point, who knows but still there’s a smile offered towards him never the less. ❛ If you had a chance to make a wish on the grail would you risk it? or just ignore it? ❜curiosity can be a beautiful thing [hey]

     MEILIN WAS NOT LIKE any other Master he had met. She held herself differently from them in a way that earned intrigue, although this was not the only reason for his curiosity. Perhaps what held his attention the most, was the fact she spoke as if they had known one another at one time, or maybe it was better to say that she had known a rendition of him. Were they Servant and Master like they were now? To have managed to summon him of all Servants, let alone held a continued relationship with him…that was impressive in itself, even if he was quite sure he and the other him would not get along. The Ozymandias now was corrupt – the extremes of all that made Rider who they were as was often the case with Alters. His summoning was one not meant to take place, yet deep within the recesses of the Throne of Heroes…he had existed once.

     Alas, he could not recall anything. Even memories that he should have from his reign were muddled and foggy. Even with that in mind, even knowing that he was not the one whom she knew closely, Meilin had reached out to touch his cheeks at one time – had smiled at him without the slightest fear within those eyes so very like rubies. To be looked upon in such a way…that had not transpired in such a very, very long time. The Alter had almost forgotten what it was like to see one so happy just to see him rather than anxious and wary as one would be in the presence of divinity. What a bizarre woman. He could not understand her mindset at all no matter how intently he observed her. As she reached up to brush bangs from his face, he sat still; the Sun King pondering what response he could grant.

     Did he have a wish at one time?

     ❝That cup is a sinful thing that tempts one into doing all they can to gain it. Even if it means that their hands must be bloodied to hold it, then so be it.❞ He chuckled, shaking his head. ❝There is nothing that I desire so much that I would fall to its seduction. I have all I could ever want in the here and now.❞ At least, he supposed he did. Was something missing? At times he felt as if there was. For a moment, he wondered if the him that Meilin had known ever had a wish they held onto tightly against their chest. Then again, he supposed it did not matter.

❝ let me see the monster inside. ❞

     THERE WERE TIMES THAT Ozymandias wondered if this woman was a Beast. She felt like one sometimes, although he knew that could not at all be the case since he would never obey such a being. If anything, he would have sought a way to eliminate Makima as a threat to his own power and freedoms. As it stood, there was no reason for it. She was something...wholly different. Lips curled into a lazy smile, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he was considering her statement. 'Let me see the monster inside.' Ah, yes, she would like that, wouldn't she? But Ozymandias could be a difficult man when the mood arose which meant that he may do as was requested...or he might not. Even as an Alter with all his most negative traits dragged to the surface due to the corruption of his summoning, this aspect of himself remained the same. 

he drifts closer, his gait heavy as a lion's, with all its dire, dreadful silence, his eyes aglow not with desire but a deep interest. stony hands lift to touch the other's chin, marble temperatures warmed by the illusion of this archer's flesh and blood and soul, and he stares: he studies them, allowing them too to gaze into the merciless sun. ' are you satisfied with this? ' his breath blows by in a mere grim whisper. soon his touch returns to the elbow's crook of its opposite limb, ozymandias's arms ultimately crossing: a subtle sign of dissatisfaction. ' ... you would do better by my side. ' surely the other would understand. their supposed 'master' was so much lesser, and how the alter could award the archer great honors; how he could lavish them as deserved, due reward for a fine soldier who took to him instead of the rest, a most precious proxy, if not a mere tool. ozymandias, in fact, cannot imagine any other allegiance, and with his voice lowering, the excruciating swelter within him growing even stronger, his speech transforms into the disturbed beginnings of a selfish growl, nothing but death and venom withheld, crouching in between every other syllable: ' there are no blessings better than mine. '

     THE ALTER HEARD THE Pharaoh’s approach long before he caught his gaze. His ears were sharp, and during the duration he had been within this building, he had come to know the strides of many. It was near impossible to take him by surprise as a result, and so when he heard the hallways echo, he would pause – listen. Eyes soon pulled from the endless blanket of white outside of Chaldea’s large, open windows, the sunlight that had been filtering in, unable to pierce through the thick glass that kept the cold from licking one’s flesh and leaving them wanting for warmth. His expression remained impassive, yet if one paid attention, perhaps they could have seen the faint, curious glint within pale gold. Hands reached out, fingers molding onto the outline of his chin as he meet the other Alter’s gaze unflinchingly. There is silence that drifts between them, yet it only lingers but a moment before it is broken by deep, frigid tone.

     ‘Are you satisfied with this?’

     Satisfied… What did he care? He lent his bow to whoever wished to utilize him. His current Master lacked the drive to fully wield him in the same capacity as the little woman with bright blue eyes (had she truly wielded him when she simply allowed weapon to run wild?); however, as long as he could loose his arrows and be granted some form of purpose, he was close enough to that point one might call ‘content’ if such were possible for an Alter. ❝You sound jealous.❞ Had this Arash been the man he used to be when heart was still intact and desire to protect overrode all else, perhaps those words would have been spoken in tease, brown eyes agleam with mirth and amusement. Instead, the one before the Pharaoh of the Black Sun held no such sentiments. He merely stated his own observation based on their tone and actions. ❝I would do better with you. This is true.❞ There was admittance there – quick and decisive without skipping a beat, an innate understanding from old memories faded by time that the frigid version of that bright pharaoh would command him far better.