still feel alive.

ind. ritsuka fujimaru, by charri.

[chaldealast]

okaaay, uh, update, entirely possible i might move rikko over to @inheroic​, my multimuse, but i won’t be deleting this blog since all my pages and threads and stuff are here, but yknow. if you wanna see more rikko go follow me over there and i’ll leave the fate of this blog up to future me 

[chaldealast]

hey now, you’re an all star. get your game on. go play.

what could these words possibly mean...? is it a spell? 

hey now, you’re a rock star. get the show on. get paid.

[chaldealast]

Ahem, ahem. 

Whoever has taken control of the music-player system of Chaldea, please change the musical selection, on request of Archer-class Tristan. Furthermore, please relinquish control of the music-player system back to Chaldea, as a special request of Ritsuka. Thank you, and have a nice day.

[chaldealast]

The past, present, and future all converge on ‘you’. 

Timelines of hopes and dreams, heroes of all stripes, approach this being called “Chaldea”: an observation tool, and a home to humanity, a vigilant steward. A singularity, unique and alone. 

No matter how much you love something, you will never be able to walk among it.

Therefore, you must obtain feet. 

You will never be able to interact with it. 

Therefore, you must obtain hands. 

You will never be able to speak with it.

Therefore, you must obtain a tongue.

You will never be able to understand it.

Therefore, you must obtain a heart. 

Ritsuka Fujimaru: designated Master. Compatibility: excellent. Signal strength: unbreakable. You are the ultimate observation device. Nothing escapes your sight. You will be its eyes, and in turn, it will be your body. 

--

You learn ‘heat’ first. Fire, as it burns against nerves. Warmth, as that fire dies into a pleasant glow. When two beings come into contact they create heat as friction, or heat as warmth. It holds another creature’s hands in its own, creating a blossoming warmth. It terms such warmth ‘friendship’.

You learn ‘cold’ next. Frost, which feels not so different from fire. Chill, as a respite from heat. You understand balance is necessity to pleasant feelings. It bites into ice cream while looking at a blizzard outside the window, which throws your previous understanding into confusion. You learn just as balance is loved, so it is hated, though why, you cannot understand. Later, you would understand equilibrium as peace, and also as boredom. 

‘Perfect systems of ecology and geology, interrupted by human activity’. This is your description of ‘Earth’. You have known the strength of it through all of time, but only now do you see it clearly: as a tide rushing to consume; as thunderstorms setting fires across plains; as sandstorms cutting into its skin; and you see it in the way it rests against a tree in exhaustion, and stops to heal an injured avian, and holds ripe fruits in its hands. ‘Earth’ is unforgiving, and yet, worthy of tenderness. 

And then, the last one. You learn it through pain, first. One, then another close companion, ripped away from it. Its anger turns into bloodthirst. You fail to understand how it could not resume happiness once the offender was removed. It begins to ‘lose’ more; you understand this ‘loss’ as permanent absence, confusion... yes, ‘grief’ is the word for it. Is avoiding such ‘grief’ its only reason for continuation? Why does it not remove the risk of grief? You consult the others, who inform you humans are flawed, imperfect, cannot be summed up by logic; their very actions defy it. You do not understand. Why does it continue to love? 

“It’s simple,” says your mouth. 

“It’s easy,” say your hands.

“I know why,” say your legs. 

Will you tell me?

“Of course. I love, because I must love.”

You must love humanity, because you are made to love humanity. Because you are made to love humanity, you must protect humanity. You must protect humanity, so you must love humanity. Before you can love humanity, you must love humans. 

But what is ‘love’? The desire to protect?

“Sometimes they are the same.”

The desire to possess?

“Sometimes they are alike.”

The desire to know?

“Sometimes they go hand-in-hand.”

You repeat: What is ‘love’? 

“The heat of passion, and the chill of relief. The tenderness of leaves, and the fury of tempests. The embrace of grief, as we reckon with time and treasure our togetherness. The everyday, endless and repeating, and life, brief and inspired. 

“You know already, because you love humanity. 

“Because you,”

and she opens her eyes,

your eyes,

and you gaze into the past and future and the present of ‘you and I’,

“have obtained what you so sought: a heart.” 

[chaldealast]

“Seeing everyone so happy and relaxed, I feel like a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Recently, we’ve been enduring tough situations one after the other... so, getting to see Mashu smile, watching my allies gather and drink and have fun... I feel renewed. It’s strange for me to say, since my brow is always furrowed, I know, but even I can’t help but feel hopeful when I see everyone gathered like this. ...It feels like the first days of the Grand Order again. Haha, what am I saying? I never thought I’d be nostalgic for those hellish months, but...”

[chaldealast]

“...I was surprised, honestly. Our Director ended up being a pretty industrious person. All of the administrative failings of the Enma-tei are masterfully handled with Goredolf in charge, and likewise, our work is going by much more smoothly than if Madam Beni-Enma were forced to direct us by her lonesome. He’s clearly someone with experience in an organizational capacity. I’m sorry I’d taken him for simply a spoiled mage, although he is one.

“It seems as though, even if he says one thing, his actions say something completely different. Really... I have a new respect for him. Of course, it doesn’t absolve him of recklessly acting and putting us in this situation in the first place, but knowing he’s capable of taking responsibility, I feel much more comfortable with him at the helm.

“Going into this new year, it seems I’ll be relying on you, Director Goredolf Musik.”

[chaldealast]

bursts a party popper. - pah -. happy new year, everyone!

[chaldealast]

@caemthe asked:

[ assassin emer ] She's humming a lullaby while brushing Rikko's hair. It's night and they're in the middle of a mission that has gone through several delays and accidents. It's all a mess but Emer is calm, her presence kind and soothing in difficult times as always.

You aren’t the type, normally, to be fond of touch. It feels like skid marks, pushing and pulling, fingernails grasping and scratching your skin. You can’t remember the last time your parents held your hand; they aren’t the type for overt affection, either. Maybe it runs in your blood, something defensive and fearful, and ancient. 

But you’re too tired to care, now. Just about everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. You’re prepared for it, but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared for the mental impact of being prepared for it. Civilians lost. Villages gone. Your hesitation and inaction has a body count. Your rushed action or hasty decision, even moreso. You look down at your hands and rather than skin or blood or muscle you just see the scars and the necrosis and the faded command seals that burn sharply, like knives digging into your nerves. 

Emer’s song brings you back into reality, softly, reeling in a line you’re trying to cling to. Anything to get out of your own head. Her comb runs through your hair with some effort; it’s wavy and gets tangled easily, the split-ends a nightmare to deal with. You don’t flinch as your hair gets caught in knots or wounds on your head ache again; your expression is stonelike, as you sit with your knees against your chest and your arms wrapped around your legs, holding yourself closely. 

She pulls away when she’s done and you turn your head slightly, eyeing her out of the corner of your gaze. There is no imperfection in her, at least, not that you can notice. You think to say something but your mouth feels sewn shut, like you’ve forgotten how to speak at all, so you sit with your cheek against your knee and watch her. If she notices your gaze, she pretends not to. 

How pathetic a thing you are, you think, as she rubs dirt from your face or bandages your wounds. Hasn’t she always been taking care of you? A complete perversion of her purpose; no, that’s not right, Servants aren’t tools for combat; have you fallen so far that you only think of your allies as tools? You clasp your head as a migraine assails you in blinding shapes; when it eases, Emer lays a cool towel against your neck and wipes the tears from your eyes. Like a goddess, like an angel, like... well, Emer. “Thank... thank you,” you manage, as your nausea calms. 

Emer Foltchaín, wife to Cúchulainn, tragic hero number... however many, of those who roam these hallways. Married to a short-lived man who died standing and lauded instead of burned-out and forgotten, and who, from your understanding, ended her life rather than live without her spouse. It’s fair to say any understanding of such self-sacrificing love eludes you. She doesn’t need your understanding, either; she’s self-assured and warmly confident, beloved by all because of, not in spite of, that confidence. 

Which brings you back to your original question, rooting around in your mind, of why she bothers wasting her energy on this, on you. Is it because you’re her Master? (A title you despise; you thought you’d grow to fit it.) But such titles clearly mean nothing to her, if the odd glimpse of her encounters with royals is anything to go by. Is it because you’re still a child? That one’s easier to stomach, though you wish you’d grow up faster. (You wish you’d at least had the chance for university before being whisked away to save the world; maybe you would’ve learned something useful there that high school didn’t cover, like... sewing, or first aid.) 

Does the answer matter? Does it change how you’ll approach her? Does it make it easier to be around her, or easier to tell her to stop? 

It takes a few seconds before you realize you’re lying with your head on Emer’s lap, her song in your ear again. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes sting as you stare at the ground in front of you while she toys with your hair. You should sleep, you think, before you really make a fool of yourself; instead you curl up and bite your tongue, silent tears in your eyes, dripping down the bridge of your nose as you hide your face. Frustration and anger and grief all threaten to make their way out but you cope with calling it ‘exhaustion’ and pretending that’s all there is, all there ever is, a pervasive emptiness so those feelings will disappear into that yawning void. It’s better than the ugliness you know is underneath that.

Eventually you work up the strength to ask to be left alone. Emer purses her lips, considers it, and obliges, and once again you are left by yourself in your tent with the darkness of night and despair edging closer. It is an indeterminate time before you finally fall asleep, dreaming of a sea of severed heads. 

[chaldealast]

time to sleep for a day and a half straight. 

[chaldealast]

originlist​:

“Doesn’t that just mean you’ve been getting no sleep for your whole life?!” That’s what it sounds like! The need for a good napping spell becomes ever more pressing. Maybe he should give it a go with the proper sleep spell and hope that the dragon girl’s singing would be enough to counteract it when the time to wake comes…. Er. “You wouldn’t dare! I am helping you! Talk like that and I’ll upgrade the enchantment to ten hours!” You can’t just put the tsar on kitchen duty.

"Sports, school, examinations, and college applications don’t leave much room for sleep. I take what I can get. I’m not hallucinating anymore, so.” That’s not... helping her case... 

Ritsuka inhales deeply, propping her spear at her side. She’s getting hot-headed again... It’s happening more frequently, isn’t it. “Apologies for the outburst. Of course I wouldn’t make you suffer such an injustice. Please forgive my grievous error, and... please don’t use magic on me.” 

[chaldealast]

tenkoseiensei:

this announcement won't stop me cause i can't hear

ardenssolis:

Ah yes this is why you're my favorite master thank you

She’s not exactly sure she solved the problem, though... Well, at least it can’t be said she didn’t do anything...? 

[chaldealast]

“This is a formal request to all Chaldea residents:

Those with the ability to imitate others, please be respectful about using such skills where it may cause confusion. 

Thank you, and have a nice day.”

[chaldealast]

Oh, the complaint box is full again...

...

Pharaoh’s penmanship is very neat, isn’t it... 

[chaldealast]

stanslaus​:

     “ i can tell , i thought i saw your soul escape for a second . ” joking tone , of course . but if Rikko was too exhausted to feed herself , then she would’ve helped with that too . “ yeah , i did . i got a little homesick , so i made it based on my mom’s recipe . ”

"It’s a good smell.” Not ‘homely’, exactly, but... like a glimpse into someone else’s home. The piercing pain between her eyes might even be forgotten, in this memory. The spoon feels heavy, but the stew warms her from the inside out. “It’s delicious, too... Do you cook often? I’m... more of a convenience-store-food person, myself.”

[chaldealast]

stanslaus​:

     slides her a bowl of warm stew she brought over , gotta make sure she consumes something before medication . “ i’ll bring it to you in a bit , eat a ‘lil beforehand . ”

“Uegh.” She’s not gonna complain about a premade dinner... sure, she’ll pick herself back up for a stew dinner. “Thanks, Rikkan. I went overboard a little...” (Winces. Doesn’t Chaldea have a ‘not so bright’ setting?) “Did you make it yourself?”

[chaldealast]

@caemthe​:

cethern: o(-(

it’s appreciated...........

[chaldealast]

@stanslaus​:

mood

“........advil.” please. begging.