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JVL

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AnasAbdin
Game of Thrones Daily

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
wallacepolsom
Not today Justin
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

titsay

if i look back, i am lost

Janaina Medeiros

Discoholic 🪩
art blog(derogatory)
Three Goblin Art
taylor price

Origami Around

ellievsbear
Cosimo Galluzzi

seen from Israel

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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from Ukraine
seen from Finland

seen from China

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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@oninoun
uhh -- what's the order for this group thing now?
It's always intimidating to be first.
She attempts to soothe her nerves with a strawberry gelatto, nibbling at the bit she's scooped up in her spoon while glancing around for any takers. The three empty chairs around her beckon for Masters and Servants alike, this time her red cross is fully visible as she sits quietly. There were simply too many people to meet before the war's inception: offering a gathering spot to meet more than one at a time seemed like the only logical course of action.
He didn’t care about the monument itself, but there was no ignoring the faint, centuries-old effluvium of death and anguish. He was already eager for what would come, seeing this place was just another reminder of how long he had to wait. With the whole city as their battleground, fighting would no doubt take place here. The girl said something about mismatched things having the best value, to which he didn’t respond. If history made this Colosseum a significant spot for forming the closest bond, all that mattered now was finding the right one.
"Conquest. Is that what you seek here?"
"I ain’t losing here." Besides that, he had been upfront about his intentions.
Though he would push until he was incapacitated, and if he had to use a Master for healing purposes, he would. He hated the notion of dying. At least, the closest experience to “dying” for him. That meant defeat, being ripped from this place and sent back to Hueco Mundo, same difference. Especially here, in the living world, populated with fucking humans.
"Che. What do you want—to bring honor to your family?” He panned, though he hadn’t stopped judging her since the moment he found her.
Perhaps the gumption to see it through until the end is their only similar point, but it's enough to get a soft, silent smile out of her. Entirely different reasons back up their passions, yet their fervor remains very much the same. Though, at the same time, one would be hard-pressed to find a Master without a deeply rooted desire to win. Otherwise --
"The Grail doesn't have a habit of choosing Masters in those who do not ardently seek it." She gives, altogether unsure if he's interested in this sort of explanation. "It is a duty and an honor for one from an ancient clan to participate -- but were honor my sole motive in being here, I do not doubt that my rights would have gone to another Master."
Honor is a code to live by, not a wish to grant. And imposing honor upon all beings would be dishonorable in and of itself.
"In fights past, my family has sought the Root of all knowledge. That, however, is not my intent: acquiring knowledge is something I could do with my own two hands. A wish for the Grail should be set aside for something truly impossible."
She pauses, more out of her own hesitation than anything else. "I had a brother, a twin." Another pause. "But he was younger than I, and was adopted out when I was young. He may have been the son but I had greater potential as a mage, and my father decided to make me his heir." She's doubting his interest at this point, but she presses on nevertheless. "As the head of my family, I cannot seek him out -- for reasons I will not bore you with. All I can do is wish for his happiness from the shadows, while trying to leave our family in a better place than it was when I inherited it."
A hand was cast upwards as if on instinct— easily catching an oncoming flower pot from the windowsill above. The perpetrator, a mere cat, hopped away as the Prince watched, holding the pot in her arm.
”… Close, wasn’t it?” Turning towards Chizuru with a smile, the Prince exclaims, “I had already heard it coming, but I appreciate the warning. You have my thanks, young miss.”
"How --"
A sheltered young girl from the Japanese countryside is hardly accustomed to seeing such things. She really oughtn't have been so surprised, given the incredibly enhanced reflexes of Servants, but ...
"-- How did you do that?"
Maxwell turned around, surprised that someone could have actually heard her among the group. Even more surprising was when the girl in front of her actually mentioned the word ‘Servant’. It was a shock, almost one that would have knocked her off balance if the would-be Master didn’t suddenly turn bright red at the compliment.
Milla gave a slight smile at the reaction, chuckling to the rather childish behavior.
"Oh my! Aren’t you a bold one. I certainly wasn’t expecting something like that to come from a, well, from someone like you. Admittingly I’ve never even seen another before, but, still it doesn’t make it any less of a surprise.”
In this moment, Chizuru would like to mourn the silent loss of her dignity. It had been but a brief lifetime together, but Chizuru would always remember fondly the days when she could hold her head up high without recourse. Those days, however, are now sadly behind her. And she's prepared to melt away right on the spot.
"Seen another?" She gives a few dubious, innocent blinks before asking, "have you never met someone from Japan before?"
It was between that and never having met another magus -- given the two options, Chizuru decides to go with what the more likely scenario would be. The woman opposite her doesn't reflect Japan at all: in fact, Chizuru wouldn't have been surprised if the woman had never heard the word "Oriental" before.
Golden locks of hair dangled over vision for a moment, a hand coming up to swat bangs away. In response to the girls words was silence, her senses having overlooked his warning. The ‘cute’ type of human females were all like this it seemed. One hundred years later, all the same. Then again, it was rare for any to have held an interesting conversation for long. Those that had were made into pawns shortly after. The girl before him, however, not worth his control just yet.
"A Japanese woman, hm? I’ve forgotten your customs since long ago." Bowing before Dio should have been on knees. "That said, girl, I am curious: What type of Servant fancies your interest?"
His suggestion brings a flood of questions to her mind, one of which she simply cannot hold back. "You have been to Japan before?" She asks, three parts incredulity and one part awe. Is he a Servant she would have learned about in a history book? Ah, if only asking for his true name would not be considered bad form (in the current circumstances)!
"What ... was it like when you went?"
But as soon as that query escapes her, she backtracks. "No, that's asking too much." Even if he had been willing to answer, she seems almost possessed by the notion of playing fair and square.
Now that is ... a question she has thought about, but not one with an easy response. "Well, ideally I would prefer a Servant who isn't looking for dubious means to win: someone who can win without dirty tricks, and believes strongly in whatever cause he has." As a Master who can lend more support in the way of intelligence than in outright battle, a Servant who doesn't require his Master's presence would ultimately do best for her -- this information, however, she decides not to share, for it may reveal too much of her own capabilities to a potential enemy.
"-- O-or she! I didn't mean to imply that I was looking only for a male Servant but, ah ... English can be so unexpectedly rigid at such times." With that cleared up, though, she now returns her full attention to him. "What sort of Master would you contract with?"
He hadn’t quite expected someone to approach him so suddenly. Not only that, but he’d ended up going so deep into thought that he neglected to pay attention to his surroundings. That wasn’t good. If the Grail War had already started, that would have been giving enemy servants a huge advantage. King kept that in mind as his posture relaxed, eyes lazily glancing towards girl who was now attempting to explain herself. And rather poorly at that.
”.. Whatever. It’s fine. So.. You’re a magus, right? You’ll be taking part in ‘it’ too then.”
Looking her over, she seemed a bit too.. meek to be a part of this. If he could make her stumble so easily, then how was she to handle herself when the bloodshed began? King’s brows furrowed slightly, once again taking up issue with this war. If these were the kinds of people that were being involved, then it left an even more bitter taste in his mouth. Especially if they were to be his enemies.
It?
... Ah, right. It.
"Yes." There's no point in hiding it anymore, and so her hand slips from its guard duty. The red cross on the back of her right hand is now fully exposed, though she doesn't make any more show of it than need be. The point being, simply, that she is has yet to make a contract with a Servant -- meaning, she is not, at the moment, wholly hostile.
She gives a brief pause before, "Have you fully prepared for its inception?" It's not difficult to see what she's hinting at.
乙ゲ落書き詰め【あげ直し】 by 雨宮しあ@ついった
A magi roaming streets so late a night, hm? Could this one search for a servant without worry? Either this girl is dangerously cunning… Or simply idiotic. Blood red eyes need not look down, fear already gripping away as he looms over her.
"Shh~ You should not speak of such things in the open. They may be others making note of easy prey." he says, fingers pressed against his lips.
It's strange, the sense of calm there has been lately: with the Servants all on limited supply, finding their permanent anchor has become paramount to each one. Even the smallest exertion of mana could prove fatal at this time -- so much so, perhaps, that other dangers have entirely eluded perception.
"I don't sense any others nearby." Though she is not a diviner, minor tricks such as this are the simple bread and butter of being a magus. "But, regardless, you are right." Her hands fold before her, and she offers him a small, polite bow.
"You don't look like easy prey, though."
... Stupid Chizuru, he means you.
"None of this really excites me. I’m not a big fan of fighting, so just being involved in this war irks me a little. But if it’s to have my dream become a reality, then I-"
"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU COME FROM?!"
"Aah --!"
His explosion catches her off-guard, too, and she stumbles back a couple of steps before regaining her placement a set distance further. In all her days, she would have never thought a Servant could be so easy to surprise -- a small piece of useful information.
"I'm sorry! I heard you speaking, so I just ... interjected." Now that she puts it into words, it only makes her sound worse. She lowers her head, bending deep from the waist and offering her recompense, "forgive me, I was wrong to intrude."
Thump-!!
That’s exactly when massive shoulders collided with the tiny girl. Once the sun vanished all signs of intelligence followed along with it. Although, even he will admit his eyes fail him this time.
"My apologies."
Oh, no.
It's that silent, gargantuan figure she had spotted not too long ago: another Servant who sends chills down her spine.
"It's alright." She answers, though with hardly any confidence. "You -- you're a Servant, aren't you?"
In one of the lesser-packed streets of Rome’s meandering geography a woman, obviously in her young 20s, yet for some reason wearing a school uniform, attempts to find a place to disappear to. Stopping to look around, she crossed her arms and whispers under her breath in an attempt to process her predicament.
"Hmm, strange. I thought I was successful in blending in with this era’s fashion. But for some reason people keep looking and pointing to me…"
A soft blink and a quiet stare -- Chizuru hadn't meant to overhear the other female's comment, though she finds herself hard-pressed to avoid a response now.
"If I may, Miss, I doubt it's your attire which they find their eyes drawn to." She almost has trouble continuing, having to gulp down a small knot and hide a rose tint to her cheeks as she speaks again. "Servants have a particular allure about them, especially the beautiful heroines."
There, she's said it. Now she's going to bury her head in the nearest ancient mosaic floor.
"Looks like things have already started moving along. I can feel a bunch of servants coming together."
"A little exciting, isn't it?"
--- !!
"Umm, excuse me! You're about to --"
"…" His eyes narrowed into a glare.
Human. Lighthearted or not, she didn’t know what sort of pathetic, weak, hateful impressions were associated with humans. He stopped being human the moment that wretched chain started pulling at his very heart, ripping it out, tearing him open, turning him into a monster. He had devoured plenty of humans.
Snapping forward, he seized the girl by her collar, forcing her to his level. "Don’t compare me to something so pathetic. And start making sense, unless you want this to end prematurely for you." His tone was low, irritated and deadly serious. Dropping her again, he stuffed his hand in a pocket.
If that’s true, then it sounded like another enclosed building. Expansive, open areas worked better. Like every human-made structure, there was always the chance that it could collapse or be broken as the battle progressed. “Hn.” Apparently not everything she said was useless; something to keep in mind. As they approached, he started to notice the massive structure rising up behind the busy metropolis. Even this late, there were humans flocking around and snapping pictures while the place was still lit up. ”Looks like it’s already broken.”
She's walking -- or, at least, she thought she was. She's already taken one step on air before she's realized that there's something pulling her up, at which point her attention snaps back to her companion. It's frightening, really, the difference in power between Masters and Servants; and perhaps between herself and this one in particular.
The petite female hangs in the air without much effort from his muscled arm, his hand easily holding her by the collar of her kimono as his knuckles barely graze the skin of her neck. Contract or no, she can feel the power of his fists, even from this small contact: the massive amount of energy which flows through him is impossible to miss. Only when he has her held up like this does her gaze slack and her eyes cloud over in thought.
Before long, his parameters are visible to her -- and it's apparent that his fists are exactly where she doesn't want to find herself again.
Rank A strength, at the total sacrifice of magical power. His endurance will keep him fighting for long, though mediocre agility and low luck will mean quite a few injuries to mend after every battle, particularly since he doesn't seem much like the type to head for a draw. Luckily for him, he's currently holding a Master with a particular over-specialization in healing: traditional healing magic enhanced by the precise study of alchemy and the flow of life.
She nods, calmer than she ought to have been because of a mind preoccupied with letters other than the ones coming out of his mouth. When he sets her down, she gives a shallow nod. "I apologize: had I known it was an insult to you, I would never have said it."
Chizuru says nothing about continuing to think it, though.
Dusk is beginning to break on the horizon, and yet crowds of tourists still marvel at the sight. Even she pauses for a moment in silent reverence, drinking in the hard work of all those who had built this monument -- and, later, all those who had died within it for the sake of sport. She can't say she's fond of it, though the hypocrisy would be too much to bear if she, a gladiator's Master in her own right, lashed out against it.
"It's a very old building: time may have taken its toll but, inside, the spirits of those who fought and died will still form a potent magical field." A proper Magus would understand how to tap into such a network, but she leaves this bit unspoken. "Often, it's the things which look a little mismatched on the outside that hold the greatest value." Whether she's speaking of his own physical imperfections -- his mask, the hole in his abdomen -- or the two of them standing one by another, she does not seek to clarify.
She gives a light, airy laugh, though one filled with more melancholy than levity. "Conquest." It's an odd word to bring up, though she'd be remiss if she didn't admit that the building's aura wasn't already enveloping her -- perhaps, even, giving her a taste of what it meant to have a fighting spirit. "Is that what you seek here?"
Menacing.
Tall.
As impolite as it is to stare, she can hardly help herself. Were all Servants so unapologetically massive?