#juniperblooded

“A lover of flowers, hm...?”

Watching him turn around, she continues to speak toward him.

“I thought the same, when Lady Hinoka had shown me around, or were you merely wandering and ambling by...?” She recalls seeing them at the entrance, him and his Master, but she felt quite...shaken by his Master’s appearance but she mostly kept it to herself. 

"Use you?"

Thomas repeats the other's words, speaking in a tone that was lost in thought, dreamlike. His brows furrow just slightly as his brown eyes flow to the side. What a strange thing to say... But the look in Wolfram, the sincerity is real. So much so, that Thomas feels his heart thud heavily in his chest. People like this are rare. It almost hurts to look at him sometimes. Because Thomas is not sincere. He's a liar. He buries everything to avoid ridicule, disappointment. But, looking at him like this, Wolfram won't leave him, will he?

"I..."

His mouth feels dry. Thomas curls a few fingers in front of his lips to hide the worry in his voice. He's waivering.

"I killed someone, Wolfram..."

And now that the truth has escaped him, Thomas is thrown back into the past. Into the viper's pit. He could feel it seeping into him as if every scene, every moment had only occured hours ago. The light slips from his eyes, like a lantern fading in the dark.

While he was humbled and appreciated the invitation, März couldn’t help but feel a bit wary. Granted, this would be an opportunity to properly meet with the rest of the Masters (and by extension, the Servants). He hears the door creek open, and turns toward Assassin with the message in hand.

“Ah, I was just about to look for the two of you,” März begins, he wonders where they had gone since he’s given them a free run of the estate. Did they go to the library? Or perhaps the room with the piano...? None of those matter right now, though. “We’ve recieved a message from Hoshido’s master.” 

März plays the message for them, showing Hinoka and the appearance Berserker by her side. Once the message concludes, he places it off onto his desk.

“What do you think we should do, should we attend...?” He tilts his head, tapping the bottom of his chin, “...I’m eager to meet with the masters at a neutral gathering, but I’m...concerned if something more sinister may erupt too...” 

...And it has been awhile since she’s last met with him too. She travels through the worlds, taking the golden door per usual with warm bread wrapped nicely. The golden door leads her pops her out from the bottom of the well, and she grabs ahold of the rim and jumps up onto it. 

“Guten Morge---AAAA!” The blond loses her balance, eventually leaning forward and falling onto someone and she watches something tumbles from their hands.  “E-Eek!” She rolls off of him, but remains on her knees still.

“O-Oh no! What should I do? Are you okay? Can you hear me?!?” 

Wolfram stirs and, hearing the sob, turns over in bed. “Vatti?” he whispers. He only gets a whimper in reply. He must be dreaming, he thinks. Wolfram sits up from bed and leans over, gently placing a hand on Marchen’s shoulder.

“Vatti,” he calls softly, shaking his father a little to jostle him from sleep. His voice is unexpectedly calm and even. “Vatti, please, wake up.”

Had a certain presence still resided within him, they might have said Just push him off the bed; he’ll wake up. But then his Vatti would relive all those terrible memories of falling–of dying. Wolfram steels himself and shakes Marchen’s shoulder a little harder. “Vatti, it’s only a dream. Please wake up.”

This is too much, even him. He watches as the fusion of the girl he loved and the copy of her shatter. The pieces float away, out of reach.  I shouldn’t be alive, ah god–– similar negative thoughts swirl within his mind space. He’s becoming overwhelmed. It’s then a voice silences the rest, it’s soft initially, but it becomes louder, echoing within the darkness. 

‘Vatti.’ The voice–– it’s familiar, wait, he knows that voice. ‘Vatti, it’s only a dream. Please wake up.’ Another spotlight appears, he sees a silhouette of someone he loves dearly. The boy runs, even though the shadowy hands try to slow him. He wads through it till he reaches the figure, then goes to embrace him. Everything becomes white.

...Teary red eyes slowly open; another tear trickles down his cheeks. 

The bell rang and Thomas quickly picked up his pace. He spent too much time reading in the back staircase, he was going to be late to class. While he quickly pushed his books inside his back, the teen didn't look up when he turned the corner.

Next thing he knew, his back was on the floor while books and paper scattered all around them.

Was he really going to do this? Frankly, he felt nervous, but feeling like that would do him no good in the end. März checks his watch, seeing that 2 am has rolled around. His Mana would be at his peak, according to the different books he’s read through on the war. Biting his lip, he approaches the circle and begins the summoning incantation.

“Silver and iron to the origin. Gem and the archduke of contracts to the cornerstone. The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg,” The jewels he holds fall into the circle, dissipating into liquid form. The circle itself begins to alights. He speaks the incantation in his mother tongue, the words roll smoothly from his lips, “ Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind. Schließ alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem König.”

His momentum continues to grow, “Füll, füll, füll, füll, füll. Repeat every five times, simply, shatter once filled.” His brows begin to furrow, sweat rolls down his forehead.

“Assassin, I announce!”

“Your self is under me, my fate is in your sword. In accordance with the approach of the Holy Grail, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer! Here is my oath. I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead!” The light in the room was growing increasingly brighter, each word inscribed onto the floor glows fiercely until he has been blinded.

“ Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen. Komm, aus dem Kreis der Unterdrückung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage Assassin...!!!!!!“

When the light dies down, exhaustion catches up with him, and März finds himself fall backward onto his bottom. He takes deep breaths, but his eyes never leave the summoning circle.