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thenearshore2019-06-01 05:16 pm
hypomeneo) wrote in thenearshore2019-06-01 05:16 pm
(no subject)
Who: Waver and You! (with a closed prompt for Iskandar)
When: May 25
Where: The Western District, at and around Iskandar's Temple
What: Murder chickens, the end result of three months of spell crafting, and apotheosis. Only two of these three things are related
Warnings: Mentions of ritual animal sacrifice, discussions and descriptions of death, more warnings in comments
Rooster Rumble
[On this late spring morning, a murderous war cry (aka a rooster's crow) rings out over the Far Shore, followed by swears coloring the air blue. Clearly nothing to worry about – you're just passing through minding your own business and the war between man and chicken isn't your war! Or you have business at Iskandar's Temple for one reason or another… and if you do, you probably know to beware the birds (and sheep) by now – and uuhh… it totally isn't your problem… sorry, Waver, you're on your own! Right?!
Then it completely is your problem as the fluffiest rooster alive bursts from the bushes right for you, wickedly long and sharp talons out and screaming for fire and blood. Starting with your blood. Followed by Waver, bleeding and tiredly snarling for its blood.]
DON'T LET THAT BLOODY BIRD TAKE A RUNNER!
[Flee, fight and catch the murder bird, or fall to its claws. What will you do?]
A Well Deserved Rest
[If you come by later in the day… there's less chance of rooster attacks. Suspiciously zero chance. And every chance of finding Waver near dozing on the Temple stairs, a bottle of wine by his side, one leather bound book at his feet along with a knife, and a look of smug, smug satisfaction on his face.
That's probably due to the faintly glowing sigils and geometric designs slowly absorbing into the rock and trees of the grounds until there’s not a trace of them at all. Something similar is happening within the Temple itself; elaborate magic circles and grids girdled with arcane scripts and formulas centered around the sacred fire being drunk up by the building itself like wine. The scent of incense blows out the door.]
Three whole months to put the damn mess together. [Sleepy.] Worth it…
[What did he set up? Ask him. Or stop him from taking a tumble down the stairs, because he's starting to completely conk out in three… two… one…]
But We All Must Wake Back To Our Lives – closed to Iskandar
[The disappearance happens in the middle of the night, when both Iskandar and Waver have slipped unconscious. Through it all, Waver dreams...
...
...
...
In the end, things come full circle.
It is now Waver's turn to meet his death on a bridge as Chaldea falls, as the Master and Mashu make their desperate flight toward the underground hanger, and delay Kotomine Kirei from catching up before they can make their escape. There's more than one hangar in Chaldea, however. This one is in the East Wing, and here Waver intercepts the priest, now a Pseudo-Servant just like him, above the vehicles parked on the floor. The unknown girl, also a Servant, is not here, though her ice is everywhere. That sadistic excuse for a woman is also absent. The only ones joining them are the corpses of mercenaries belonging that arrogant idiot Gordolf Musik. They're sprawled everywhere, riddled with bullets.
Che. Some fool had even brought a sword; it lies on Kirei's side of their battleground. Not that there's more than scant moments for noticing such things...
They all were right in their suspicions. The Incineration of Humanity by Goetia was just a prelude, a reaction to this, an invasion to erase the world and Pan-Human History outside piece by piece...
Waver had always known that surviving this Grand Order would be extremely slim, even if his status as a Pseudo-Servant promised him the hope of resurrection. Accepted it. But it's somewhat bitterly poetic that it's this end, on a bridge, against the former Master of Gilgamesh. His lips twist as he watches Kirei kiss his cross and he knows his strategy. Get him talking, drag this out...
"Father Kotomine Kirei... what an unexpected pleasure." Waver's voice drips venon and sarcasm in equal measure, "Death's never been able to keep you from salivating at the possibility of apocalypse. You must be savoring this meal."
Dead since the Fourth War, but always, always coming back. Waver tracks the flight of the Master, Mashu, Da Vinci, and Musik to Holmes and the rest of Chaldea's staff in his mind. There are other enemy Servants about, but this one can not be allowed to interfere. The priest is far more dangerous than anyone suspects.
"There is joy in doing the good work, Caster. Or should I say Lord El-Melloi II," Kirei's eyes narrow thoughtfully, trying to place him, "To encounter one of twelve Lords of Mage Association here... indeed, I savor it." There's something twisted in the look, "Rejoice. When all has passed, all your kind have wished for will be be restored."
"The Age of Gods? Mystery?" Waver can't help but laugh, "Is that what's being told to those poor addled children? Wipe the memory of Pan-Human History and its people from the World and you can build on its bloody bones a better tomorrow. A second chance. Please."
It feels like eternity stretches between them as humanity disappears outside in every place, in every time. Each word, each movement, each breath of theirs bears down heavier and heavier upon the remaining fabric of history and scars it as individuals dwindle and Waver feels that weight settle on his shoulders.
"It has always been the duty of adults to educate the children in their care. You know that well. Sometimes reality is harsh, and though trampling such a dream will bring some measure of pain to my heart, it must be done."
Now it comes to it; Kirei's drawing black keys, Waver his fan. They will be fighting in moments.
"You think a dream eventually fades when the dreamer wakes to that? I heard such a notion once long ago, from another I'm sure you'd get along with. Some dreams are so flimsy, yes. But some... Reality is harsh, Kotomine. That we can agree.
One day you'll awake to discover some dreams refuse to die. Including humanity's."
It clicks on Kirei's face.
"... the former Master of the King of Conquerors, Waver Velvet. I thought you dead. Here you are Lord of the El-Melloi instead." The priest smiles cruelly. "Facing me. If I had realized this was to be such a momentous occasion, I would have brought and offered you wine before we start."
Waver scoffs. "Pass. I wouldn't share a cup with you even if you brought his treasured reserves," as mana surges within for this final battle, "Let's get this over with."
It begins and there's only one hope of victory. To hold the line as long as he can, to allow the others to make it, to escape... for that dream of humanity and history to continue on. Noble Phantasms clash, spells and pure mana rock the hanger, and debris falls from the ceiling. More blood begins to paint the hangar red.
It's a bridge and he's a Caster, and he has no close combat skills. Just his wits and creativity. He lasts longer than he should, but he takes hit after hit by black keys, scored open and bleeding, one blade impaling him through the shoulder, another through the side. It alone is enough to guarantee his death, and he staggers, catching the railing, refusing to fall and rallying himself to continue the fight.
Then Kirei's in front of him, the discarded sword he noticed earlier in hand.
Blood erupts from his mouth as Kirei runs the blade through his heart, piercing the two fused spirit cores sustaining him. It feels... cold. Like fire eating him up, but... cold.
His body begins to break apart into mana, particles rising in the air. While it's possible for him to leave a corpse in some circumstances, it's equally possible for this to happen. It's a filmy realization as Waver feels Zhuge Liang's core within him fragment, the sense of him disappearing, while all the rest lingers behind still fused to dissolve with him.
There's a thunder in his ears. It sounds like waves crashing on a distant shore. Eternity presses down, the World takes hold, and he feels... cut from the tethers of some cruel cycle. Engraved and beckoned home, to some far distant shore.
He can only hope it's enough, as everything goes numb and the pain vanishes to the background. Can only hope it's enough... that this sacrifice buys the Master's escape and their eventual victory. Kirei fades away, speaking though Waver does not hear, and before it all goes dark, he sees that vision of that misty shore, and one man in particular by the waves...
"...Rider..."]
RIDER!
[Waver shoots upward, disoriented, clutching his chest. He's in a strange bed, peering through the darkness at a strange room, and he can't sense the familiar wash of energy of Ri--Iskandar. The room is filled with whispers, or maybe that's just in his head, of people praying for help. Beneath his fingers, his formerly dead heart pounds.
It is that realization, along with the crash of an entire life through his skull, and one other - the one he's been holding back for three months, that sends him spinning into hyperventilation. How long as he been gone? How long has he been gone? Christ, is Rid... Iskandar, here? DID HE LEAVE HIS KING ALONE?
... panic seizes him, and he ignores the fact that apparently now he's a god, and apparently Iskandar's had access to his memories, and apparently he's not going to fall and turn into a malignant multi-eyed monstrosity or have to kill himself to avoid said fang and claw fate or anything where his inevitable death's in the cards. No. The only thought that consumes him is what the hell happened when Rider, no, Iskandar... his king and lover... found out he was gone?! Did... he...
Terror sends him tumbling out of the bed, and terror causes involuntary teleportation in his need to get Iskandar's side, and he crashes to the familiar stone floor in front of the sacred fire of Iskandar's Temple. He groans, stunned and feeling like his entire body has been dragged through thorn bushes as he looks up.]
... Rider...
[Not Iskandar's room, but.
Oh. Is he going to have Temple problems?]
Please. For Christ's sake. Not today. For his sake. Not bloody today.
[And with that he pushes himself up and heads for Iskandar's room.]
When: May 25
Where: The Western District, at and around Iskandar's Temple
What: Murder chickens, the end result of three months of spell crafting, and apotheosis. Only two of these three things are related
Warnings: Mentions of ritual animal sacrifice, discussions and descriptions of death, more warnings in comments
Rooster Rumble
[On this late spring morning, a murderous war cry (aka a rooster's crow) rings out over the Far Shore, followed by swears coloring the air blue. Clearly nothing to worry about – you're just passing through minding your own business and the war between man and chicken isn't your war! Or you have business at Iskandar's Temple for one reason or another… and if you do, you probably know to beware the birds (and sheep) by now – and uuhh… it totally isn't your problem… sorry, Waver, you're on your own! Right?!
Then it completely is your problem as the fluffiest rooster alive bursts from the bushes right for you, wickedly long and sharp talons out and screaming for fire and blood. Starting with your blood. Followed by Waver, bleeding and tiredly snarling for its blood.]
DON'T LET THAT BLOODY BIRD TAKE A RUNNER!
[Flee, fight and catch the murder bird, or fall to its claws. What will you do?]
A Well Deserved Rest
[If you come by later in the day… there's less chance of rooster attacks. Suspiciously zero chance. And every chance of finding Waver near dozing on the Temple stairs, a bottle of wine by his side, one leather bound book at his feet along with a knife, and a look of smug, smug satisfaction on his face.
That's probably due to the faintly glowing sigils and geometric designs slowly absorbing into the rock and trees of the grounds until there’s not a trace of them at all. Something similar is happening within the Temple itself; elaborate magic circles and grids girdled with arcane scripts and formulas centered around the sacred fire being drunk up by the building itself like wine. The scent of incense blows out the door.]
Three whole months to put the damn mess together. [Sleepy.] Worth it…
[What did he set up? Ask him. Or stop him from taking a tumble down the stairs, because he's starting to completely conk out in three… two… one…]
But We All Must Wake Back To Our Lives – closed to Iskandar
[The disappearance happens in the middle of the night, when both Iskandar and Waver have slipped unconscious. Through it all, Waver dreams...
...
...
...
In the end, things come full circle.
It is now Waver's turn to meet his death on a bridge as Chaldea falls, as the Master and Mashu make their desperate flight toward the underground hanger, and delay Kotomine Kirei from catching up before they can make their escape. There's more than one hangar in Chaldea, however. This one is in the East Wing, and here Waver intercepts the priest, now a Pseudo-Servant just like him, above the vehicles parked on the floor. The unknown girl, also a Servant, is not here, though her ice is everywhere. That sadistic excuse for a woman is also absent. The only ones joining them are the corpses of mercenaries belonging that arrogant idiot Gordolf Musik. They're sprawled everywhere, riddled with bullets.
Che. Some fool had even brought a sword; it lies on Kirei's side of their battleground. Not that there's more than scant moments for noticing such things...
They all were right in their suspicions. The Incineration of Humanity by Goetia was just a prelude, a reaction to this, an invasion to erase the world and Pan-Human History outside piece by piece...
Waver had always known that surviving this Grand Order would be extremely slim, even if his status as a Pseudo-Servant promised him the hope of resurrection. Accepted it. But it's somewhat bitterly poetic that it's this end, on a bridge, against the former Master of Gilgamesh. His lips twist as he watches Kirei kiss his cross and he knows his strategy. Get him talking, drag this out...
"Father Kotomine Kirei... what an unexpected pleasure." Waver's voice drips venon and sarcasm in equal measure, "Death's never been able to keep you from salivating at the possibility of apocalypse. You must be savoring this meal."
Dead since the Fourth War, but always, always coming back. Waver tracks the flight of the Master, Mashu, Da Vinci, and Musik to Holmes and the rest of Chaldea's staff in his mind. There are other enemy Servants about, but this one can not be allowed to interfere. The priest is far more dangerous than anyone suspects.
"There is joy in doing the good work, Caster. Or should I say Lord El-Melloi II," Kirei's eyes narrow thoughtfully, trying to place him, "To encounter one of twelve Lords of Mage Association here... indeed, I savor it." There's something twisted in the look, "Rejoice. When all has passed, all your kind have wished for will be be restored."
"The Age of Gods? Mystery?" Waver can't help but laugh, "Is that what's being told to those poor addled children? Wipe the memory of Pan-Human History and its people from the World and you can build on its bloody bones a better tomorrow. A second chance. Please."
It feels like eternity stretches between them as humanity disappears outside in every place, in every time. Each word, each movement, each breath of theirs bears down heavier and heavier upon the remaining fabric of history and scars it as individuals dwindle and Waver feels that weight settle on his shoulders.
"It has always been the duty of adults to educate the children in their care. You know that well. Sometimes reality is harsh, and though trampling such a dream will bring some measure of pain to my heart, it must be done."
Now it comes to it; Kirei's drawing black keys, Waver his fan. They will be fighting in moments.
"You think a dream eventually fades when the dreamer wakes to that? I heard such a notion once long ago, from another I'm sure you'd get along with. Some dreams are so flimsy, yes. But some... Reality is harsh, Kotomine. That we can agree.
One day you'll awake to discover some dreams refuse to die. Including humanity's."
It clicks on Kirei's face.
"... the former Master of the King of Conquerors, Waver Velvet. I thought you dead. Here you are Lord of the El-Melloi instead." The priest smiles cruelly. "Facing me. If I had realized this was to be such a momentous occasion, I would have brought and offered you wine before we start."
Waver scoffs. "Pass. I wouldn't share a cup with you even if you brought his treasured reserves," as mana surges within for this final battle, "Let's get this over with."
It begins and there's only one hope of victory. To hold the line as long as he can, to allow the others to make it, to escape... for that dream of humanity and history to continue on. Noble Phantasms clash, spells and pure mana rock the hanger, and debris falls from the ceiling. More blood begins to paint the hangar red.
It's a bridge and he's a Caster, and he has no close combat skills. Just his wits and creativity. He lasts longer than he should, but he takes hit after hit by black keys, scored open and bleeding, one blade impaling him through the shoulder, another through the side. It alone is enough to guarantee his death, and he staggers, catching the railing, refusing to fall and rallying himself to continue the fight.
Then Kirei's in front of him, the discarded sword he noticed earlier in hand.
Blood erupts from his mouth as Kirei runs the blade through his heart, piercing the two fused spirit cores sustaining him. It feels... cold. Like fire eating him up, but... cold.
His body begins to break apart into mana, particles rising in the air. While it's possible for him to leave a corpse in some circumstances, it's equally possible for this to happen. It's a filmy realization as Waver feels Zhuge Liang's core within him fragment, the sense of him disappearing, while all the rest lingers behind still fused to dissolve with him.
There's a thunder in his ears. It sounds like waves crashing on a distant shore. Eternity presses down, the World takes hold, and he feels... cut from the tethers of some cruel cycle. Engraved and beckoned home, to some far distant shore.
He can only hope it's enough, as everything goes numb and the pain vanishes to the background. Can only hope it's enough... that this sacrifice buys the Master's escape and their eventual victory. Kirei fades away, speaking though Waver does not hear, and before it all goes dark, he sees that vision of that misty shore, and one man in particular by the waves...
"...Rider..."]
RIDER!
[Waver shoots upward, disoriented, clutching his chest. He's in a strange bed, peering through the darkness at a strange room, and he can't sense the familiar wash of energy of Ri--Iskandar. The room is filled with whispers, or maybe that's just in his head, of people praying for help. Beneath his fingers, his formerly dead heart pounds.
It is that realization, along with the crash of an entire life through his skull, and one other - the one he's been holding back for three months, that sends him spinning into hyperventilation. How long as he been gone? How long has he been gone? Christ, is Rid... Iskandar, here? DID HE LEAVE HIS KING ALONE?
... panic seizes him, and he ignores the fact that apparently now he's a god, and apparently Iskandar's had access to his memories, and apparently he's not going to fall and turn into a malignant multi-eyed monstrosity or have to kill himself to avoid said fang and claw fate or anything where his inevitable death's in the cards. No. The only thought that consumes him is what the hell happened when Rider, no, Iskandar... his king and lover... found out he was gone?! Did... he...
Terror sends him tumbling out of the bed, and terror causes involuntary teleportation in his need to get Iskandar's side, and he crashes to the familiar stone floor in front of the sacred fire of Iskandar's Temple. He groans, stunned and feeling like his entire body has been dragged through thorn bushes as he looks up.]
... Rider...
[Not Iskandar's room, but.
Oh. Is he going to have Temple problems?]
Please. For Christ's sake. Not today. For his sake. Not bloody today.
[And with that he pushes himself up and heads for Iskandar's room.]
no subject
[Yeah... about that mana pool.]
Well, depending on the magic system I'm facing, they might have spells that completely cancel out my own. I have recognize that, adapt on the fly, and create something new they can't so easily counter.
[Sometimes battles can be like that, or so he feels. Who can be unexpected, adapt faster, and do so with the least flaws in the spell structure to exploit.]
Or I might want to hijack their own spells and turn them against them. Or adapt a working into an offensive spell because my usual repertoire just isn't up to the job in defeating an opponent and I need something outside the box to make headway.
no subject
[ Honestly, his mind might be interpreting things differently, given he's thinking of how he could easily do that, spell for spell, without any problems. When they played around for a little while with the snow
and ice, Judar wasn't really thinking or trying to get around the weird drain that was hitting him faster than what he was getting back. Yet despite that, he still managed a high cost spell to teleport and cut out most of the fall distance back then.So a lot of what's being said makes a kind of sense, in a familiar sort of way. ]
So what, the only reason our fun got cut short after so soon is because I decided to just hang around in one spot? I could see using a high enough drain to deal with most people, especially if it works against more than just magic, like-
[ Or maybe that was a bad idea, because now he was getting a lot of head noise and general headaches. It wasn't quite the same as a shinki reaction to straying too close to their Truth, but it was looking pretty similar. Instead of his being trying to prevent straying too close, there was a pressure as if a dam of information was about to burst through. ]
I wouldn't mind checking any of this out if you've got it written...
no subject
And yeah... pretty much in that instance. It wouldn't be quite the same now, but since that was the first thing that came to me then...
[That's an expression. Waver frowns in concern before adding:]
Do you read Chinese? I have everything written down, but my spellcasting notes are all in that.
[It's strange that such an offer brings up now familiar dual impulses. Not to share his secrets at all with another spellcaster and the absolutely contradictory urge to do so anyway, because talent should flourish under his hands.]
no subject
Even if it meant having a disgruntled face and sound. ]
Not familiar. Pretty sure the only reason I understand the books in the library is because of some weird magic thing. Every time someone mentions a language, I've never heard of it before showing up here. Sometimes it looks vaguely similar, but even similar characters are read and get set up differently.
[ He's picked up enough to at least guess which language was what, with some success, but everything was foreign to him. Meaning his own notes would probably be useless to everyone else. ]
The only one I seem to kind of know is Arabic, and even then, it's... Really distorted.
[ That's what you get for being from a world with only a single language, but with different ways of writing it. ]