thenearshore | You were in the darkness too

Entry tags:

You were in the darkness too

Who: Archer and Caster
When: December 27th
Where: Dún Dealgan, Caster's temple
What: Archer suddenly remembers a few hours from his past and a certain Servant;
Warnings: violence Servant style in memories, PTSD, will update if needed

Archer wakes up with the start, flashes of his dream still playing with surprising clarity. It's his past, he knows it, one of the forgotten pieces that shinki can sometimes remember.

Caster is here too, his breath steady, warm weight anchoring Archer to reality. He can still feel the phantom pain and the blood trickling down from the non-existing wound. It's been real, much too real to shake off immediately.

Lancer. Saber. Golden Servant and the priest - the details are a bit murky, muddled with remembered feel of his body giving up and his stubborn resolve to not die. How many times had he pushed himself further ignoring his own weakness? This much haven't really changed.

Lancer. Caster. Cú Chulainn. Archer presses the heel of his hand to his closed eyes and swallows. A Servant that, in the end, stayed true to his beliefs. The irony of him forced once again to break one oath to keep the other; how many times has Cú Chulainn suffered the same fate again and again?

He forces himself to calm down and steady his breath, to push aside all the jumbled feelings awaken by the dream - no, his memory - to avoid waking Caster up.

Too late.

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[ Does he really? Is that a story he wants to tell?

On the other hand, is there anyone who would want to listen aside Archer? Trust is hard-earned but what else Archer was doing for past- what, almost half of a year- if not earning it. ]

It wasn't going well from the start. [ Finally he snorts. Well, he can at least try talking about it. How it goes is another matter. ] I mean, someone else summoned a Lancer-class Servant first, so this is how I ended like. My Master was surprised, but not disappointed.

[ A shame they did not get to spend more time together. He really liked her from the start. ]

[Archer is half expecting Caster to just shrug and change the topic. He's startled even more by the clear sign of trust, and silently wovs to himself to never break it.

It's a familiar tone he hears, of Caster's dislike for his class showing. Has he ever been summoned in different class before? Most likely not.]

Sounds like a string of bad luck.

[ Oh he does remember being summoned as a different class. Very vaguely. Hence the frustration. His first time as a Caster and it's going a long way. ]

Few things are as fickle as luck. [ Which is why he does not bet on it too much ] But it's a severe understatement. That war went south really fast.

[ There is little excitement to this tale, really. ]

Saber somehow reached the Grail. It corrupted her, and then she defeated and dragged along the rest of the Servants. Aside from me.

[ There is the smallest hint of pride now. Normally it would be something FUN, to stand as the sole warrior against all odds and enemy forces larger than anything could be imagined. ]

[Archer cannot ignore how detached Caster sounds from his own story. It's when he hears the tiniest hint of pride that he decides to act. He's flexible enough to turn around without disrupting Caster, to let him lean against his chest and pull him closer.]

A lone warrior against all odds. Sounds like an epic tale. [he says resting his chin on Caster's shoulder.] I take it she never managed to corrupt you.

[It is a solemn tale, though, and he understands the reluctance to share it.]

[ And suddenly- hugs. Hugs are good for all, but when they come from your detached, overly serious shinki, slash, lover, you know the thing is serious. It makes Caster laugh briefly, almost snort. But he enjoys physical closeness, so he leans into the embrace. ]

You flatter, me Archer. [ Maybe if spun right, it could be an epic tale. ] It's kind of boring when I tell it, though.

[ It doesn't feel like an achievement, even if he technically won the war. Maybe because the war didn't go as it was supposed to go. ]

The city went up in flames, I lost my Master- others were goners by then I think. I couldn't continue without her for obvious reasons... but I know she would want me to do something about this mess.

[ He rubs the nape of his neck, and tries not to focus on breath he feels on his skin. ]

So I did. I dispatched two of the corrupted Servants before unexpected happened. A magus, a strange Servant and a kid that was her Master. They were sent to help, but in the process got lost too. So I offered them a temporary alliance.

[ How did he stay materialized and stoked on magic until that point? Uh, that's ~~a mystery~~ He will answer if questioned but won't just throw that detail out there- speaking of details, he flicks Archer's forehead ]

Hey, now we're talking about me, not you. You okay with that?

[It's a detail that Archer knows the answer to, his knowledge of Grail system still fresh in his memory. He understands Caster's reluctance to share this detail. It must have taken a long time, with corrupted Servants running freely. He's not going to ask if the Saber from the tale is the same Saber that he remembers; the less he knows the better. Soothingly he strokes Caster's shoulder. It must've been too hard on him, losing his Master like that and trying to survive and win this war for her sake.

And there comes the unexpected flick.]

Hmph.

[Dammit, Caster!]

I'm fine. [Archer rubs his forehead just for show. It's a distraction tactic, he knows that much.]

So you helped them to win the war?

[ No, it's all good. No one needs to know how he fed on the dying residents. No one needs to know how #notsorry he is about the whole ordeal, he could be either dead or trying to set thing right, and there was no one to save them either.

But while he might not be sorry about it, he's also not proud of it. Something Archer could perhaps understand all to well- something he doesn't want to be understood about. See, this is why Servants are abominations. ]

And there goes my story- [ The complaint is airy, because he's glad for the rush. The sooner they're done with this the better. ] Pretty much, yes? That Servant girl was purely defensive type - and damn good at it - so I let her and her shield tackle the "protecting" part.

[ He leans onto Archer again tapping into all the warmth the other man wants to give ]

We got the Grail, defeated anyone who tried to stop. And everything in the era was supposedly set right after that. The end.

[Too bad that Archer understands both, and in understanding he doesn't see the need to mention it. Those were casualties of war, and sometimes to save others you have to sacrifice lives. Looking at the bigger picture the corrupted Grail and Servants running amok were bigger concerns than saving humans who would die no matter what.

What he can understand is that Caster should be more proud of the fact that he won, and while he wasn't the only Servant of this odd Master, he was the one to fight.]

How many Servants does it make? [he wonders aloud, not keen on knowing who were they or how exactly it went. Knowledge is a double-edged blade. Perhaps Caster fought one of the shinki he met here, perhaps it was Saber or Lancer-

no, he doesn't even want to consider such possibility.

With a surprising ease he focuses on the Servant that's trying to leech all of his warmth, and pulls him into strong embrace.]

[ Caster starts counting on his fingers in the correct order. ]

Rider, Assassin, Lancer- [ an old friend, hah, she took his spot. Then there was Archer, then Saber. But those two he does not list, because a sudden yawn attacks him. It is middle of the night, right? ] Five total not six, though. Berserker was just wandering a forest near some castle, or something. Wasn't interested in bloodshed unless approached, so I left him alone.

[ wonder what it was? What was so strong that keep him focused even after the corruption took its course? Most participants see Berserkers as mindless killing machines, mad and unpredictable. Caster has a little more respect for the class, probably because he qualifies too.

Whatever kept him there rendered all the rest of the war unimportant. ]

[Archer hums quietly. Yes, in Caster's own rendition it doesn't sound like an epic tale. A gruesome war full of casualties, a surprise allies and Master appearing when all is lost, and the fact that Caster singlehandedly won it.]

You're selling yourself short. [he speaks quietly, softly, only for Caster to hear.] You have won the war, despite it leaving too many scars.

[He wonders if part of Caster's dislike comes from the war itself, from the cruel reality he's had to survive. He'd seen such burning city, too.]

[ "War is hell", but he was definitely raised with the "war is glorious". This was no war though, this was slaughter as evidenced by the tragic city when no one survived, and only wraiths fought each other. ]

Sure, I did. I'm not disappointed or whatever. [ He won't deny it. No instead he will laugh the concern off, because that's the proper way to go, right? ] What is done, is done. But... I do wonder how differently it would go if my Master summoned me like she intended to.

[ No regrets, but perhaps a bit of doubt ]

Aaah, if I just had my spear-!

[ If he had his spear he would not need to wait and bide his time. He wouldn't have to be careful. Maybe he could confront Saber at the very start, before everything went into hell. ]

[Archer continues to rub Caster's shoulder soothingly and leans closer to Caster's ear.]

I am not so sure. [ignoring this topic may be the best, but things won't get resolved.] Without your class ability to gain mana from other sources you'd most likely fade. Change of class also forced you to focus on strategy.

[As well as do something reckless without caring for consequences.]

Tch-

[ Part of him knows that Archer has a point. His skills as a Caster proved to be incredibly useful in the situation he was faced with. Part of him wants to agree and just go with it. Then they could drift back to sleep and forget about this conversation

but! ]

Or you know, I could have won this even sooner. [ Before all went to shit! Wishful thinking but ah ha ha. He just prefers being Lancer, this is a cheap knock-off of his real self. ]

[There's no way to win this argument, is there. Yet Archer tries again, his voice quiet but firm. He knows how much Caster loves his spear, the weapon handed to him by his mentor, and the weapon that took the lives of his most loved ones.]

Perhaps fate gave you another chance to make your own choices instead of forcing your hand with cursed spear.

[Is there a way to rewrite the tale of Cu Chulainn, to undo all the wrong choices and times he's been forced, to give him back the happiness that's been stolen. Most likely not. However, there may be something to even the chances out.]

[ There might be a way. Rarely there might happen a Servant who wants to obtain the Grail to change how their story went. Unhappy with the result their life produced. Caster isn't one of them, he doesn't even desire the Grail and idea to change history wouldn't occur to him. ]

[ No matter how bad his life ended, he would not change it for any other one. That's why the idea of even just simply "continuing it" here comes with an element of wrongness he can't fully shake off. ]

I very well know what my fate was, Emiya. [ That's why he takes it as an insult. Caster storms out of the embrace Archer held him in, and turns around. Flinging right into violence would be easy, and a the way his pupils turn into thin slits shows he's close to doing just that. But it's his Exemplar he's talking with, and he's his God, not just offended warrior against another. ]

My fate was never forced, I chose it. [ And the spear was a reward. Even if his mentor had sinister reasons for giving it to him. In the end, he couldn't even truly fulfill her wish either. ]

[Archer doesn't tense, his posture slack and unguarded. He chooses his words carefully, knowing that Caster is one step from flinging into violence.]

Yes, your fate was the result of few choices that you made for yourself, and so is the tale of great hero Cú Chulainn. [Archer speaks slowly, his tone carefully neutral.] Even after millenias has passed you are still bound to choose one oath over another.

[He's not offering pity, merely stating the facts. Then his voice takes a slightly different, somber tone.]

Then there is Cú Chulainn that is freed from such fate, who won the Grail War and was summoned as a god. One gifted with runes of creation, powerful enough to rewrite a fate of certain death. Like each power it comes with a price.

[Archer's voice fades into silence and he waits.]

[ Caster's brows are furrowed, his expression that of frustration and annoyance, but the anger evaporates. Archer won't even let him have that, a proper rage, a proper fight. For once instead of the laser precision jabs he- still goes for laser precision but it's neutral, even appreciative in some way.

Instead of insults, there's a respect. Damn it. Caster sighs, his arms relaxing. ]

Does the one you speak of can truly be called that? It's almost contrary to what "hero Cú Chulainn" stands for. [ He lets out a brief bitter laugh. That's right, that's what is bothering him. He's not meant to change his fate- it was sealed upon the moment the prophecy. Whole life just a road to that one fixed end. ] A hero and his Noble Phantasm are one and the same, Archer. You saw what mine in this form is.

[ A burning cage of tragic death, looking sacrifice, that's what it is. It burns and destroys everything in its wake. ]

I could raze all Servants in Grail War with it and none would get any idea who does it belong to!

[ They could guess some famous druids, maybe even Cathbad, sure, think he's his own grandfather. That to speak, it proves his point. His Noble Phantasm belongs to a nameless druid, his name effectively erased. Even when he introduced himself with his True Name to Rider, he assumed at first it was just a god he must represent. ]

[Archer listens intently with a small frown, focusing on Caster's words. He doesn't reply in an instant, considering it for a long moment. It's true that the cursed spear is heavily tied to his name, but it's not the only weapon he has used, is it.]

Isn't it the other way? [he asks quietly.] You are Cú Chulainn, a Child of Light, whose natural element is fire. You are also a wielder of Cruaidín Coiditchenn as well as of Gáe Bolg, proud owner of Liath Macha and Dub Sainglend that draw your chariot, and the one called the Hound of Ulster.

You are very much like your Noble Phantasm, burning like a falling star that destroys everything in its wake.

[Ironic, since the sacrifice isn't Cu Chulainn himself this time.]

Archer, you're a fucking nerd. That's just an effigy. [ There's an actual exasperation when he says that. Can't stop anyone one reading about him, but you can be sure this guy here will have done his research by now. Kind of a shame, because Archer can be a real jerk too. Caster wishes he was that a jerk now, they could have just gone down to the training hall, punch each other senseless until exhaustion. ]

[ Instead of- having an actual conversation about issues. Ugh, he kicks him in the shin out of annoyance. Without real force, just a childish move. ]

And I could be just a nameless druid who for some reason responded to the summons of "Cú Chulainn" [ It's not an identity crisis, he knows who he is, and never doubts it. If someone else doubts it, fuck them, he's not going to waste his time proving anything. He just hates how removed from himself and his past it makes him feel. So yeah, maybe his spear was cursed, despite that, he never actually wanted to give it up. ]

[ But he also finally recognizes the terrible irony here- ]

The hell, what have gotten into me. [ Caster mutters and runs his hand through his hair. He's suddenly too tired to even be angry or frustrated ] Ranting to you about this, of all people.

[ The Nameless Archer and a shinki at that. Last person who should hear that kind of complaints. Especially when it started with few disjointed memories that just returned. Way to go, Caster just deralied the conversation. ]

[ The part about runes is still an annoying thorn though. "Runes of Creation" aren't that far of a stretch. There was a god who got them from the world's tree itself- a god of Norsemen. Might sound funny, a Scottish witch, teaching Irish kid Norse magic, but mages always used whatever they could and whatever suited them best. ]

No nameless druid knows futhark.

[Disagreeing gets him a kick to the shin but Archer can live with that. There are more important things to focus on instead.

Yet Caster sobers quickly. The irony isn't lost on Archer, though.]

It troubles you, that's a valid reason. [a shrug.] Besides, I'm not a hero.

[ Caster makes a step forward and falls first onto the bed. Arms spread, he's taking most of it. And since the bed is big enough it's just his feet that dangle in the air.

He shouldn't even talk about this, ugh. He probably wouldn't have had he be more awake. ]

Not something that I get to change- I don't like this conversation, I'm ending it now.

[ But it is something that has been on his mind. Why that's how he appeared here. Archer might be up to something. Runes. Writing. Druids are keepers of lore.

Maybe his people, his followers, no longer near a warrior with a cursed spear to protect them, but a druid to inspire them with tales ]

[It's odd, but Archer does understand. With how young he died, Caster is still prone to stupid displays and also prefers to hide and ignore what he perceives as weakness. That he understands all too well, because he dislikes showing any kind of vulnerability as well.

This time they're actually talking instead of fighting, so they're getting better at communicating.]

Hmph.

[Archer kneels at the bed, maneuvering Caster so that he can spoon him. Leaving for his bed is the last thing on his mind right now.]

All those weapons that I can project are nothing but copies. Fake weapons for a fake hero. [he murmurs quietly into Caster's neck.]

[ Someone needs to tell them that not allowing yourself be vulnerable is actually a weakness. But hey that's a long way to go, and they are at least attempting to chart it. Or stuff.

They're talking, and they're talking about Archer for a change. Good, good, that shifts the focus Caster is definitely Fine with that. ]

Fake..? Yeah, sure they are. [ He's still blunt, but he softens it with the following comment as he settles more into the warmth behind it. ] A weapon, is still a weapon. Its true strength lies in that who wields it.

[Archer makes a derisive sound.]

By wielding it I'm copying how its wielder used it, and nothing more. [aside the bitterness there's resignation. Archer can't really change it, no matter how hard he tries. With his past being completely forgotten he's not sure if his weapons are truly his.] I don't think the swords I use are truly mine, neither is the way I fight.

[It's something he tries very hard to not think about while he's unable to sleep; a fake hero wielding a fake weapon. A pawn with no other purpose than to fight. It's a weakness and vulnerability he doesn't want to admit to himself, yet one he shares in exchange for Caster's.]

That doesn't make any sense

[ Archer gets a soft elbow in the rib on that comment. Sharing is caring, and Caster genuinely tries to be helpful. But his way of helpful might be different than what is today expected. ]

So if a master teaches their students art of fighting those students are worthless fakes? That kind of knowledge always have a source, and even masters who come up with their own styles learned the basics elsewhere.

[ Scáthach made him into the spearman he was known for. Scáthach gave him the weapon that followed him into the legend. Yet never in his life, he would question if his skills were less because of it. Quite on the contrary, he took pride in being taught by Queen of the Land of Shadows herself ]

You were in the darkness too

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