#traitorbred

  Making food such short notice proved difficult with what ingredients he had, but their eventual destination was close enough to provide him time.  The hour was late ( ᴇᴀʀʟʏ? ). No stores he knew in the area would provide fresh things like vegetables and meats.  Still, he produced a fast marinade with Vinegar, garlic, mustard seed and honey, and had peaches and cherries in the fridge.   Cooking did not take as long as it was to prepare. Within the hour after the fated call, he had a large plate of chicken kebabs, full of meat and fruit. Nothing hardy, but definitely crisp and light according to his toothy roommate companion. Taste test approved, he stood at the designated door, then knocked.

Instantly, a burly man in a cheap sweater and sunglasses answered the door. He seemed disturbed, then closed it instantly before Vlad could get a word.  Rude! Was he mistaken?! He heard a muffled voice calling for another with mentions of armor and spikes..

( Tʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ Lᴀɴᴄᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴇᴅ                                                         ʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴇ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍᴏʀ.)

starts punching his kneecap

          A DISTANT THUD SOUNDS OUT, softly accompanied by what seems to be an oof in regards to someone tumbling down. leaves flutter down from the shaken branches, landing atop the sprawled out man now rubbing gloved hands through blond tresses. certainly come the morrow he would feel the aches of a hard collision. shifting upward, it’s only the sound of pausing footsteps that cause his eyes to open and glance upward at his company, freezing momentarily at their appearance alone. blonde locks accompanied with brilliant emeralds, a trait which takes him off guard for but a millisecond. ah, was she, too, part of that horrendous family, he wonders?

          even so, lips curl into a cheerful smile as he eases back against his elbows, giving a small chuckle at the servant currently towering over him. a near wince follows after, only for a split second as he feels the fading throb of pain from his back.

“What should we do?” Astolfo paces in circles around his hippogriff, its keen eyes watching his every move. For once, his footfalls are devoid of their usual clanking; he was forced to dismiss his armor after the forest’s vines began relentlessly whipping at him. Apparently the plants here are sentient, and they really hate metal... The bruising along his arms and legs are proof of their ire.

     He dodges the swing of a toy bat with a smirk, not surprised by the other’s behavior.

Of course, this sort of animosity wasn’t all that unusual from Mordred, of all the Servants. That, and the many other Servants who deemed him an enemy all had some sort of distaste upon initially seeing him again. That, too, he found unsurprising. Really, it hardly bothered him.

“I see your aim is as true as ever, Saber. Judging by your lack of a sword, you must be new, yes?” casually speaking, Shirou steps back a tad.

“I’ve said this to the others I’ve encountered... but we’re not enemies, here. If it interests you any, I lost our war. You can take solace in that, if you wish.”

Switcheroo meme: Not accepting

In Dishonored 2, Mordred and her pirates—known as the Red Razors—serve as the player character’s main allies alongside Anton Sokolov and Meagan Foster. In exchange for their assistance in combating the Grand Guard, and later on, Delilah’s coven, Mordred expects the player character to help legitimize her rise to power in the Empire of the Isles, in order to redeem her family name.

C-chocolates.... !!