f l a m e •

[astrerier]

-- crowned ; open

[astrerier]

The sudden presence of an eloquent servant was a glaring contrast to the rougher vigilante continuing to bite into his crepe coolly. Although there’s a hidden degree of caution to be exercised inwardly, the scene is still casual enough to be downplayed given the circumstances.

All in all, he’s not bothered. Yuri’s outlook was as simple as the mantra he lived by, and he wasn’t looking to complicate his existence. Granted it’s easier to cut down enemies without knowing a thing about them, but it’s not as if he didn’t have experience in the opposite, nor was it so harmful to have a chance conversation in a calming area.

“No kidding. It’s worse that these people won’t even know what the hell’s happening in their own city.” Understanding the reason for the secrecy of the war was not a difficult concept, but it was still an insane effort to enforce. Something of a quiet scoff.escapes him at the thought. “There better not be anymore bloodshed than there needs to be.”

[burnthekarma]

     Huh. Now that was a notion he'd never thought about.      Upon manifestation, he'd known that the Church has used its influence on the media in past wars to keep the War a secret.  Who knows what they'd have to do this time around --?  Building destroyed in random "fires," inexplicable shockwaves from Noble Phantasms played off as earthquakes: in truth, it could be considered almost comical. But, in the interest of keeping in his company's good graces, Homura keeps this quiet amusement to himself.

     "If we wish for such, then we will have to engineer it by our own recourse.  What would you propose, to keep the casualties to a minimum?"  In truth, Homura finds little desire in actually winning: even as a Sekirei, he had not particularly cared for the notion of being the last one standing.  A particularly passionate Master might sway him otherwise; but, for Homura, the greatest goal is that the wicked should be punished for their misdeeds.      Fighting is a side-effect of war, but stamping out the cruel?  That is a tactic which Homura could pledge his allegiance to.

[aequality]

"Guardian. A fine name. Own it well, my dear." Names are power — the woman should know that best of all. Her own hasn’t been spoken in aeons, scattered among the stars upon a dying breath.

But she does need to offer an alias for him, so she smiles slyly and says, “Ginjo.”

"My motto is to always have a bottle of fine sake." The woman laughs, turning to look at the people walking by. "You never know when company shall arrive, and it’s naught but rude to offer them sub-par alcohol for their troubles.”

Yuko winks back at Homura. “Although the finest bottle of daiginjo, you should keep to yourself. Save it as a treat for a fine afternoon.”

She glances up at the clear sky, breathing out a swirling stream of smoke. “Like this one.”

[burnthekarma]

     He offers an easy smile before crossing one hand on his (currently) flat breast as his head dips in a shallow, polite bow.  "I must be severely remiss, then, to have ignored a cordiality so blatantly."  Homura's never been much of a drinker -- alcohol and fire don't exactly mix well -- but, given his new form as a Servant, he's sensed that some things have changed with the overall physiology of his new physicality.

     For one, he's quite certain that any food or drink ingested now is not so much digested as it is converted into mana stores.  In this case, alcohol may be more of a boon than a bane.

     "Something tells me that there will be many more fine afternoons in this place."  The Mediterranean climate, still not baking in the heat of summer, provides a relaxing, almost therapeutic sensation.  He can see why this place would be chosen as their arena: it's filled to the brim with history and a sort of unspoken magic, and yet soothing enough to wash away even the most plagued Servant's cares.  "Enough, perhaps, to balance out the brutal nights to come."

      He's no longer referring to temperature, though he's certain she's figured out that much already.

      "I wonder how this will all play out ..."  He muses idly, half waiting for her response while half drifting into thoughts of potential futures.

[heartsforeigner]

"I think of myself quite normal, thank you very much." Alice retorted with a light puff as she placed her hands above her hips. Though she was acting rather pouty right now, Alice was amused by the whole conversation. She feel a bit better, she guessed her teacher wasn’t the one for her. 

"My name?" If he was such a gentlemen, wouldn’t he give her his name first? Teal eyes blinked as she rattled her head on whether or not she should give the man her name. He seems…nice enough and doesn’t feel like a bad person. "Alice Liddell, nice to meet you, um…" 

Something was off. There was this nagging feeling that told Alice that this person wasn’t what he seem. That’s right, this was war, so there was always the chance that this man was an enemy…but Alice wasn’t going to throw her theories out just yet. After all, she was the one that intruded upon him.

[burnthekarma]

     "Guardian."  He's given the name once before to a fellow Servant, and the name falls off his lips with a greater ease this time than it had done before.  It even lures out a smile from deep within those enigmatic features.

     "Were you going to ask if I am a Servant, Miss Liddell?"

     If she hadn't already figured it out, by now she'd certainly be able to sense that he's one of the Eirei brought to this land to fight.  He's known she's a Master right from the very beginning -- if not by a magical aura, then by the cross which gleams a brilliant red on her hand.  In this time of tense, accepted peace, however, there is no need for fear.  The time for bloody nights will be upon them soon: for now, he's more than happy to relax and bask in the fine Roman climate.

[astrerier]

-- crowned ; open

Where gratitude should have flourished, skepticism appeared. 

The knowledge needed to prevent confusion of the modern world is gifted to him through otherworldly means but frankly isn’t enough to satisfy his other curiosities— namely the reason why the grail decided upon him of all people to materialize. More of a pessimist than an idealist, it’s perhaps the worse of his nature that prevents him from placing his entire faith on the power of a cup, even if his resolve to assist any who suffered was undeniably remarkable.

To be blunt, the dead don’t wish for anything. A ghost gifted form was all he was and all he intended to be for the duration of this war. Should a worthy master seek a wish he could agree with he’d do his damnedest; it was that simple.

Doubts aside, he’s here to win if nothing else, so with what limited time given before the storm, Yuri’s settled on enjoying a crepe outside a calm cafe to organize his thoughts.

“Some battleground." A musing to no one in particular, the few puzzled looks thrown his direction were ignored. "I’m all for ancient cities, but this is ridiculous.”

[burnthekarma]

     Curiosity may have killed the cat, but trading idle banter has never hurt anyone.      Of course, the reason behind Homura's sudden interest in this cool customer is not quite so innocent as pure inquisitiveness.  It's a natural ability of Servants to sense one another -- and Homura's been quite intrigued by his fellow spirits thus far.  Perhaps this one might prove equally as stimulating?      Pure auras resonate from within both of them, both with a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong.  And yet, Homura's light doesn't burn nearly so bright as his companion's: ironic, really, considering this Eirei would burn just about everything else without much resistance.  A differing in method is likely the cause: but, if Homura is anything, it's charming.  And he plans to use his delicate tongue, honed through years of Host Club work, to his fullest advantage.

      "A shame, is it not?"  He remarks with an easy, almost lackadaisical air before giving an equally as effortless shake of his head.  "That we will have to fight in such a beautiful place -- it would be a shame to see any of this history destroyed."

[heartsforeigner]

"Ah, did it slip out?" 

Bitterness, ah that might be the correct word for her feelings towards love, after all, they say that a first love is a lost love. But there was nothing stopping her from feeling depressed about it. But now she was curious as she stared at the handsome man. “Then, what about a lost love?” 

Would a lost love be beautiful? 

"…"

Wait a minute. 

"You say that you’ll admire it but does that mean you won’t get love for yourself?" What a selfless person. Pressing her lips together, Alice shook whatever remaining thoughts she had in her head. "What a weird man you are." 

[burnthekarma]

     "A lost love, huh?"

     On this, he does have to think.  There is still beauty in it to be sure, and yet -- "not all beauty is joyous.  But beneath the loneliness of a lost love, there is something greater."

     He pauses, but this time on purpose.  And then, he continues with, "the hope that the void of a lost love will be filled with something greater.  A love that slipped through one's fingers is not a fated one, after all."

     Fate.  He has a funny relationship with the word: he believes in it whole-heartedly, and yet it's never been kind to him.  His melancholy at this is largely nonexistent, however, deeming it a simple inevitability. Those curse with fire are damned, after all.

     A chuckle.  "Says the one who thinks my admiration of others' affection is strange.  What's your name, Miss?"

[heartsforeigner]

Alice thought that Paris was the city of love but there was a lot of PDA going on in Rome. Her right eye twitched slightly as she began to ignore the many couples that pass by through the streets. Love, huh? The blonde clutches at her chest at the memory of her ex. Her tutor that sadly fell in love with her older sister. 

No, right now it wasn’t the time for that. She can’t dwell over a hopeless love when she was soon going to be in a life or death situation. As she was about to walk on by and ignore the couple, a comment caught her attention. Something about how it’s interesting to watch. Watch? What was so interesting about watching a pair of love birds?

"Isn’t it considered rude to be watching a couple?" Alice couldn’t help but inject her opinion, but then she realized that she forced herself to engaged a conversation. Well, that was okay. She didn’t have much to do beside gain knowledge about her surrounding. 

[burnthekarma]

     She gets a gentle chuckle from the once-Host for her comment.  Ah, to be young and still so caught up in the world --

     "Careful, Miss --"  His comment flies with ease through the evening air. "One might think you to be holding onto some sort of bitterness, with a statement like that."

     But his taunt is meant as a playful jab more than anything.  Soon enough, he follows up his previous statement with another, perhaps less loaded one.  "I think all love is beautiful: and if it is put there for me to admire, then admire I shall."

     Of course, this Servant has never sought it for his own benefit.  His own meeting with his Ashikabi had been more of a mistake than anything, really, but it made him wonder if his meeting with his Master would follow a similar trend.  Knowing the luck of those cursed with fire, he doubts it will ever happen at all.

[aequality]

Yuko smirks before carefully taking a seat on the steps beside him, gathering the folds of her dress to avoid too many wrinkles. “This time?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Mm, maybe so. Or perhaps not.” The woman laughs again before inhaling more smoke, watching the plume she exhales dissipate into the air before them.

The woman doesn’t actually approve of the way the Grail is fought — it takes incredible power in order to forge something that’s been destroyed anew, especially with life — but instead of mentioning that, she says, “It depends.”

There’s a small smile on her face. “Our strings have been cut.” Yuko gestures at a pair walking by, hand-in-hand. “Theirs may yet continue to tangle with those of others. I would say that is worthy of no small amount of attention, don’t you think?”

"But that’s of no importance." The woman raises an eyebrow at the man. "Who are you, my dear companion?" She pauses for only a brief moment before amending her words with a smile. "Rather, what do you wish to be called?"

[burnthekarma]

     Homura gives a louder laugh at the notion of being frozen in time -- not at the situation, necessarily, but at the irony of he, a man so linked with fire that it's become the very essence of his being, being caught in a glacier with only this brief hope of reprieve.  Another cruel twist of fate, too: in this day and age, Homura hasn't even been created yet.  He supposed this works to his advantage more than anything: as a hero of the future, the risk of one already knowing his name are ... well, quite slim.  But, in any case, there is no harm in taking precaution.

     As she's asked -- what does he want to be called?

      In spite of its meaning (literally, flame), Homura has never felt a particular attachment to his name -- or to anything in this world, really, save for his own Ashikabi, his best friend, and his mission to safeguard innocents from those who would seek to abuse them.  There was one title he had been granted in his previous life, however, which does continue to bring some warmth to his breast.

      "Guardian."  He lets slip.  "There were some who called me that in my time.  And what of you, my lady of intrigue?"

      A lecherous flirt with dubious intent he is not: his compliment comes like honey over milk, naught but a sweetener to change the taste of their atmosphere.

[aequality]

Ah, Rome. When was the last time she had visited? Or even Italy in general, the country of art and beauty — both of which she appreciates greatly. It’s a place of meeting, of beginnings and endings, and she’s only vaguely surprised at how the place hasn’t already been strangled by all the red strings woven through the streets.

So many connected hearts, so many fated meetings, each a singularity in itself necessitating a single outcome:

               the winner of the War.

But even she cannot tell the future, or the consequences of so many actions and reactions, so Yuko simply chooses to ignore the present situation and allow for her feet to take her where they will.

She has her kiseru in one hand, gold-and-scarlet with exquisite carvings, as she exhales the fragrant smoke.

"Ah." The witch tilts her head to glance at the man sitting on the steps, following his gaze to the parade of lovers. Yuko chuckles. "It is, indeed. People are fascinating, aren’t they?”

[burnthekarma]

     She's got legs which go for miles, and a pretty face to match: if they'd been back in Japan, in Homura's own time, she'd have been exactly the kind of woman he'd have lured to his table at the Host Club.  True, she is far taller than he -- but, the Sekirei has never backed down from a challenge before, and doesn't intend to do so now.  Whether that comes from the fact that she is a fellow Servant or not remains tucked away in his consciousness.

     His back remains in a delicate arch, even as his head turns up to get a better look at his newfound companion.  She's a smoker, too: something which he finds himself praising rather than shunning, and a fact which has already endeared the Italian continent to him.  Japan had never been as friendly to smokers as they are here, and for this he takes a commemorative drag of nicotine into his own lungs.

     Homura's particular concoction is nowhere near as elegant as hers, though, and her contraption has piqued his interest.

     "Even an untrained eye would know that you are not from this time." He remarks lightly, more of a passing observation than anything of genuine import.  Hell, he even matches her amusement with a chuckle of his own.  "Ah, but who is more fascinating: them, or us?  We've come back from the dead -- and, theoretically, lived to tell about it."

[burnthekarma]

     He's always been fascinated by the beautiful, chance encounters in this world.  Two people, had they gone down any different road, visited any different pharmacy, or hadn't spilled a cup of coffee, who would have never met: now, practically bound to one another.  Of course, he's talking about love --  though, perhaps the same could be said of Masters and Servants as well.  Two halves of a pair, one spirit and one mortal, each with their own desires to be fulfilled and a vision to be made real.

      Ah, but he's getting ahead of himself.  For now, he's perfectly content to watch the lovers stroll by as he takes a sweet drag of a cigarette from his perch upon the Spanish Steps.

      "It's so fascinating to watch," he muses idly to himself, largely unaware that he had actually spoken out loud as his love-foolish stupor takes hold.

[heyteensheresyourstuff]