You were in the darkness too

[boneofsword]

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.

Comments

[boneofsword]

[Archer tenses in the first moment, then gradually relaxes. He's not entirely fine with showing his face, but he trusts Caster enough to allow it. Even if he still has trouble with looking straight into his eyes.]

It's a bit more complicated. By now it's most likely muscle memory after who knows how many years of fighting, but in truth my skill lies mostly in analyzing the structure of any melee weapon I see. [he makes a face.] As long as the weapon is created from something that can be found in your world I can replicate it. Even if it's something as rare as bones of phantasmal beast. I can't create divine constructs, but most Noble Phantasms are possible to replicate.

[Looking away he makes a pause, his expression darkening. His skills are something he ironically can have some pride in, if used to craft training weapons as well as fix mundane appliances. What he's talking about now isn't what he's proud of. Ever. There's a possibility Caster will scoff and scorn his only ability.] When I project such copy I gain knowledge about the weapon itself, its creation and its history, as well as separate knowledge of how it was used.

[futhark]

[ Caster listens this explanation and doesn't try to interject, his hand idly resting on Archer's neck- thumb drawing shapes into the junction of his jaw and ear in a lazy caress. ]

So you're a mage who pretends to be a warrior, and it pains you.

[ No shit, the parallel here is almost poetic. Like the universe is making fun of them by throwing them in one place and one time again. Like, no shit where there is end to that ridiculousness. Caster did not expect their bitterness to mirror so closely. ]

And I'm a warrior who pretends to be a mage- [ We're similar, is that what you were trying to say, Archer? ] Funny how things are.

[ He moves closer so their foreheads can touch. ]

But what you do with that skills of yours is your own. Make the action genuine.

[boneofsword]

[Archer exhales and closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch.]

I'm not that much of a mage. Merely a blacksmith. [he admits in quiet voice. It's ironic, to think of it, that fate thrown them together. Small, tired but honest smile appears on his lips.]

Hn. I guess I should start taking pride in that.

[futhark]

[ Caster retains the soft caress for a moment longer, until his hand moves and-

he grabs Archer nose between two of his fingers and pulls ]

Yeah, like hell you should. [ Depending on place and time, a blacksmith was either a mundane trade, or holder of arcane knowledge that forged treasures out of stone. ] No weapon would exist if someone wouldn't make it first, you know.

[ And warriors would have to fight only on bare fists, how boring would that be ]

[boneofsword]

[Ow. What the hell, Caster, have you no mercy-

wait, wrong question. It's still odd for him to consider having pride in his works. Perhaps Caster is right, looking from a warrior's perspective. Perhaps he should consider it a blessing rather than imitation.

Perhaps he could craft a real weapon worthy of ancient hero.]

My bad. Don't suffocate me.

[futhark]

[ You're dead anyway Archer, but it's true, they still need to breathe. Caster lets him go with a laugh too bright for their conversation- and instead throws his arm around him and pulls him into an embrace. Closely, intimately, so his shinki's face is buried in the crook of his own neck.

He runs his hand across Archer shoulder in a gesture that is almost soothing. ]

But I mean it, truly. Having hands that create is a thing that should not be taken lightly.

[boneofsword]

[It stuns Archer for a long moment - the embrace, warmth, and the soothing caress. It's not what he expects, and not what he deserves - that old, persistent belief resurfaces until Archer forcefully reminds himself that he does deserve something for himself.

Yet Caster's words stir his memory.]

Have withstood pain to create many weapons
Yet, those hands will never hold anything [Archer mutters under his breath without thinking.]

...thank you.

[futhark]

Put your hands around me and then you can see if it's truth or not. [ Caster mutters with a snicker, that Archer obviously cannot see. His hand runs into Archer's hair, tousling the white mop a bit ]

Go to sleep, it will be better in the morning. [ He continues to whisper, knowing well a soothing effect it can have ] I promise.

[boneofsword]

[Huh. Did he say it out loud? Archer has no time to ponder because Caster is affectionate again, messing his hair while trying to soothe him. It's oddly warm and comforting, just as Caster's steady breathing and shared warmth. Is this what it means to be cared about?]

I will. [he replies in kind, embracing partner.] Good night.

[For the rest of the night his dreams are full of warmth.]