#clarentheir

          “... Hmm...“ What an odd situation he’s fallen into. This isn’t Elysium, definitely not Hades... and he’s pretty sure the Throne of Heroes was never like this. Yet there’s no Holy Grail here to fight over, far as he can tell... So what’s the big idea? Who thought they could just summon the Achilles and not have an army for him to fight?? Even worse, looks like whoever brought him here took everything except the clothes on his back... aside from the armor. And a twig of a spear, if you can even call it that!

     This is just awful, terrible... What’s a Greek warrior to do when there’s no battle to fight?

     ... Well, chatting up with the ladies usually works. But in this exact case, it looks like this foreign land isn’t as foreign as he expected. Not even an hour after his “summoning,” Rider’s managed to spot another Servant-- one from his old faction, no less! ... That looks like the Saber he’s think of, at least-- hard to tell without the clunky armor. But there’s only one way to find out...

     So in a bold display of greeting, Achilles slams his head against the other’s back while she’s in the middle of eating a burger. Surely this will go well.

But it’s totally like remembering how to ride a bicycle, right? He’ll just ease his way back into it.

So totally ignoring all of that now, we find the big lug sitting by what looked to be a pretty ideal spot to nab some of these little bastards. It’d take some time of course, fishing is more or less a waiting man’s game. You’d need the patience of a Saint (haha) to even think about surviving the long drawn-out moments of absolute nothingness. But that’s alright cause The Boss thankfully has a working phone to play all the Dad Rock he wants for those peak Summer vibes.

♫ Rikki, don't lose that number. It's the only one you own. You might use it if you feel better when you get home ♫

Perhaps it was simply within the nature he’d come to adopt since being reborn as a Heroic Spirit, or perhaps it was some wanderlust he didn’t know he’d had, but regardless of the reason, Arthur had found himself wandering the city alleyways and sidestreets, keeping out of common eye, hood obscuring his features.

However, as he rounds a market corner, the sudden sight of a tousled ponytail over a red coat brings his whim-driven venture to an abrupt stop.

It was at this point Arthur was just kind of coming to accept that the group calling themselves the “Stars” had managed to get a wholesale grasp of Chaldea’s server and had pulled any number of them from Ritsuka’s employ. From that perspective, Arthur supposed there was no reason not to expect any of his knights to end up being called here. They were all top-of-the-line Heroic Spirits after all.

Yet, seeing her here brought a spike of anger to the pit of Arthur’s stomach-- if only for a moment. How dare they deign to lay hand on his--

Sigh. No. Not “his”; he didn’t need anyone to tell him that.

He knew. He understood from the very beginning -- he was not this Mordred’s King. Yet, that divide of a parallel world meant nothing to him. She wasn’t the slightest less his offspring for it; the child who sought him out, whose hand he didn’t take. He’d made some attempt thus far in Chaldea, without any real results, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying; not there nor here.

She is「 Mordred 」, and he is「 Arthur 」. That’s all that matters now.

Face obscured by his hood, Arthur emerged from the shadows behind. Taking an uneasy breath, he opened his mouth-- and called out to her.

“Mordred.”

A bit self-conscious, he paused before continuing.

cheese???

       The nature of Servants was an odd thing--particularly how their memories worked. From one Spirit Origin to another, the different incarnations of a single Heroic Spirit could manifest in wildly different ways and have wildly different memories. He’d seen that quite a bit, over the course of his time in Chaldea. 

       In knowing that, he was able to guess at the nature of the individual staring right at him.

       Servant Class: Saber. True Name: Mordred. A rowdy, loud type who spoke her mind freely. While he wasn’t certain he could call her a friend, she certainly seemed to notice something familiar in him. Frankenstein, as well--the two seemed to check in on him every now and then. Though he worried he was taking up their time in doing so, it made him feel happy.

       But. This one, her gaze wasn’t nearly so friendly. It reminded him of his first encounter with the Knight of Rebellion. Or rather, with the ‘Saber of Red’.

fuck you and your harem pants, dad

beyondtheglasswall said: let's get you some fruit

take your fruit and [ REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED]

clarentheir said: that's it, let it all out

i hope your pizza burns

exousiate said: hm, it reminds me when you punched me in the face

  come closer and i’ll show you what i did to ivan

castilium said: senpai do you want a hug? hug

      what he needed most in this city, aside from information were       those who he could rely on when necessary. threat or no he       was helpless in this city and could do nothing on his own. what       he needed were friends, and what better way to find them than       to make himself known (as much as it goes against the assassin       inside him). he would cut through crowds, scanning for what       seemed like minutes before coming across that blue hue       he so often trusted in.

                         and now it is time for what i do best.

“Sir Mordred.”

“I heard about a brawling location, quite famous in the area. I’m severely worried about how it can affect the peacefulness of this island. Would it be not in our best interests to stop such activities?”

Naive and full of wonder, Gareth needed a way to approach her cousin and was it not best to do so while performing their duty as knights? Despite their existence as Servants, she kept herself quite firm in doing what was familiar. Maintaining peace, protecting the innocent and defeating those against justice. 

Her admiration rarely helped when approaching them, often unsure how to close the gap that was so painfully apparent. Both were brave, yet the Lancer was more tame and meek in comparison to the fire burning within Mordred. For that reason, she had to step in and start turning into the motions now that there was a chance.