- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Writing Levels
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, Mystery
Marianne
Archer paused, unsure of how to explain her grim outlook to someone who so effortlessly tossed bleakness aside. "Well..." Shinobu was faster, the Servant's train of thought rendered pointless with little more than a hug and cheery exclamations about the future. She shuffled up the stairs without a word, minding her head at the top of the bus interior. In the stop-and-start stream of other tourists boarding the vehicle she made sure to stay close to her charge, dropping her suitcase below and plopping into the seat. Sealing away the noise of the tarmac and terminal outside with glass and metal accomplished little, as voices in a dozen languages chattered over pre-recorded guide videos.
Eventually they ran out of bodies to pack in, the brakes released, and they were gone from the airport grounds. Mary nodded along to the talk of their ice cream enterprise. For all the things the summoning process had informed her of, the complete guide to working a food truck hadn't been bestowed upon the Servant. It sounded very much involved, a world full of strategy and chance a little bit like her own... But it felt so much simpler to storm a great prison, or steal from invading armies. It was fun to entertain the fancy of going back, of waiting a table or... distributing ice cream on the street side, but she still had difficulty imagining herself living such a fantasy. What if things didn't work out? Would she even be any good at it? The logistics made her fingers feel numb and her knees twisted and weak.
"Maybe..." For a second she thought to voice her fears, turning her gaze away from the nearest tiny TV screen to the weight on her shoulder. Shinobu's sleeping face answered her.
It wasn't as if her Master was a very conspicuous magus, and nor was she a very noticeable familiar, they could at least try. Maybe they could even get away with it.
Time rolled by, and with it, the road into Paris. Congested, broad highways gave way to congested, narrow streets. Glimpses of the surrounding greenery were traded for denser meshes of solemn, looming buildings. She counted the streets as they passed in perpetual slow motion, the clock ticking quickly but their wheels held in place by traffic and regular stops. It wasn't a warzone yet, and if she had her way it wouldn't have to become one but still she habitually glossed rooftops and alleyways for those who could be watching. Magi were said to prefer secrecy and that normally forebode things like attacking a packed bus full of tourists, but it was a poor bet to think that anyone in the position to win a Grail War cared a lick about ethics. Finally, the threatening shapes of the concrete jungle melted away to the shining waves of the Seine. They drove over the bridge, and with a final chime, found the bus stop they needed: The corner just opposite the parvis of Notre-Dame de Paris.
"We're here," She said, shaking her Master lightly as their fellow travelers marched by. The aisle cleared, and the Servant stood up, hoisting their stowed luggage and waiting for Shinobu to join the procession. They left the bus, and the bus left them to their business. Notre Dame towered above Île de la Cité. Given its own sanctimonious spacing upon what amounted to its very own island, the buttressed fortress of God ruled over its surroundings with a gravitas to be expected of the Gothic style. Time itself was etched on those yellowing stone walls, the pockmarks of age the accumulated evidence of a difficult, defeat filled history. So many of her own memories contained the building, it was almost like finding an old friend again. Maybe it could be that way this time around, the Revolution had not been kind to the building. Mary looked over the sightseeing crowds gathered in front of the building, photographing the fenced off main door and thronging about those which were open. "I don't detect anything in the vicinity. We should be safe to proceed." Mary said quietly, staring into the red-lit countdown of the opposing crossing light.
Walter Moen
'To war,' were words he never wanted to set his course by, but it was the simplest truth of their situation. Walter nodded his head solemnly, turning with Berserker to regard the world outside. Their enemies were numerous, six other Servants and at least six Masters did not make an inexhaustible supply of foes but it was more raw power than any magus could hope to encounter in their lifetime. Any one of the familiars summoned for the war would have little trouble laying waste to the entire city surrounding them, which posed the most disquieting possibility and one that he chose to set aside. Within the realm of what he'd been asked: He simply did not know. He hadn't had the time or the resources to establish a drag-net of bounded fields across the city yet. There was the possibility of using familiars but the types he was confined to would out the nature of his Magecraft almost immediately to the trained eye. Using any of his Magecraft would, really.
"For now, you'll know them better than I can. If we're around a Servant, you should be able to sense them. If they're trying to hide, there's no way I'm gonna be able to reveal them. It's possible we're still alone, and it's also possible the abundance of leylines and such in the city is masking the other servants. The others may have been summoned outside of France, or are yet to be summoned. We'll only know once the battle begins... Which should be today, or tonight. Magi don't like to do their thing in public, and around here there's a lot of innocent people we don't want to get in the mix." Walter took a deep breath. There were other issues of mercy, but none that he wanted to raise so soon after summoning. They weren't particularly strong convictions either. The Masters were what they were, he hoped they would give up when defeated... Servants on the other hand, even if they weren't Berserkers, were all figures of legend who would happily fight and die for a cup. It wasn't even a matter of respecting that ambition: They simply wouldn't have a chance unless they struck to kill. He looked at the Servant to his side. In that regard, he'd been truly fortunate to summon a class so quick to ignore the moral questions. Resolved, he set his jaw, staring out at the sunlit world.
Oh, right. He couldn't drag an actual giant through the streets, especially when he was dressed like an Aztec warrior.
...
Especially not to a nice restaurant. He scratched his chin as Berserker voice his hunger, running over the options. Well, he'd just break it easy. "If you can assume spiritual form, we'll be free to wander the city and find some chow." That, and hopefully somewhere to sleep that night. "If not, well, you're gonna be waiting here a bit while I go grab something. As luck would have it, food's pretty much life in this country. Hell, even the junk food is better made. Point is, there'll be plenty to eat."
At least, he dearly hoped the Servant was feeling hungry in the conventional sense. If it was happy hour on hearts and human sacrifice they were going to have to have a very brief and frank discussion, but he didn't get that kind of vibe even from such a frenzied warrior. All he'd need would be a day or two to establish a series of bounded fields. Just like the one that made the Servant's summoning a cinch, they'd draw more than enough mana to keep him materialized and fighting. Albiet only if no one interfered with them, and also assuming that the store of natural mana in the area wasn't exhausted already. There were other mages out there, doing all sorts of things with the Greater Source he depended on. Walter watched Berserker closely, waiting for an answer. He hadn't complained about the flow of mana yet, it was entirely possible that his own energies were sufficient for day to day maintenance. Asking was out of the question, it was essentially admitting his lack of capability as a magus to the person depending on his abilities, which left waiting to see if he was an exhausted husk in a few days time.