#arthxrian

   Gilgamesh catches the rock just as soon as catches sight of the rock, staring hard at the male king of knights who had the nerve to do such a thing. Staring intently at the man for a bit wondering what exactly possessed the man. Or maybe just wanted to cause trouble but that didn’t seem too accurate.

The weight of a short sword was a lot different than the blades she was accustomed. Even if the edges were dulled, there would be plenty of bumps and bruises. The little buckler on her arm stayed more because of all the definition to her muscles from all the training shed received from the others. Western swordsmanship was something she'd only seen on television. The steel was heavy in a way that jostled her out of any of the stances she'd taken up before. The distribution of weight was different, but the handle of steel was ever prominent in her mind. As much as she'd flash a grin, she knew how serious of a weapon any sword could be.

"Thanks for agreeing to teach me, Arthur-san." She grinned, all teeth, before turning towards the weapon in her hand. Her expression changed, becoming more determined, not that the confidence in her ability to conquer even this mighty weapon hadn't changed. She stopped after a while, when the weight of the sword felt a little more familiar.

Berserker thought Arthur would leave as soon as Berserker saw him. It’s the most sensible thing to do, after all. Fear reaction is to be expected upon being faced with this Thing, the angry fog that cries out like bending steel when it sees him. But he doesn’t. Berserker’s stance shifts, the scraping of metal boot against the floor of Chaldea. He cannot stop and has no desire to -- the mist around his sword lifts as Arondight falls into his hand.

He can feel the drain on resources almost immediately, manifesting as a pre-emptive ache, strain on his form as Berserker immediately demands as much energy as Chaldea’s system can afford him.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He could well push Arthur to actively dying, and he also will likely be heavily admonished by Ritsuka for fighting afterwards -- though that has never stopped Berserker before, and these thoughts are only peripheral to the screaming static in his head, jerking his motions like an automaton. He needs to push Arthur, after all.

If he doesn’t push Arthur, the king won’t fight him with intent. And if the king doesn’t fight him, then he won’t--     he --         this was supposed to--

He knows Arthur, knows he can deflect Berserker, but only if he abandons the desire to fight halfheartedly, stay on defensive. Berserker will challenge him, he has to, he --

Arondight swings downward with Berserker’s full strength, entirely intent upon cleaving off Arthur’s head.

“Were you ever happy, Saber?”

It’s not the sort of conversation one would expect to have so early in the morning, hell, she’s barely finished getting ready for a day off work (though that doesn’t exactly mean a day off from the damn Grail War). But she wants to know regardless if kingship being thrust upon him truly made him content. If he’d ever felt just a tinge of happiness being in this home the first time around.

he’s mean

Their first impression of your muse: At this point, I’m basically desensitized from all the iterations of King Arthurs that have come to Chaldea. One more won’t hurt anymore.

Current impression:  He’s as chivalrous as what I’ve read about his lore entails. I’m sure Galahad would be thrilled to meet this King Arthur in person. For now, I’m glad to be of help whenever I can.

Are they attracted to your muse?:  He’s so suave with his words, sometimes it’s hard not to feel a little flush. 

Something they find frightening about your muse: It’s not so much that I’m scared of him, but of what he’s after. He’s told me he’s hunting down a certain “Beast”... Given the connotation of what we’ve faced already, I’m a little worried over which beast he’s going after...

Something they find adorable about your muse:  He has manners worthy of a gentlemanly knight. Swooning over him is pretty much a side effect.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  For Camelot’s Once and Future King? Without question.

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  It would be the highest honor to accompany the king. (Platonic)

One word my muse would use to describe yours:  Gentleman

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: I would never!