Rest was beyond his reach, no peace would be found for this spirit yet it seemed, as he finds himself in foreign lands once more. Perhaps he ought be surprised, but through his hundreds of years was it truly so remarkable? He thinks not. However he does question it; his appearance here when his last memory is a cursed one as he condemned the grail war and all it’s participants. Should he have need to? Hardly, such a thing was doomed from the beginning. Yet his words sear through his mind and burn eternal, and no greater is that sorrow when her ever brilliant visage is sighted, although he sensed a powerful soul long before his eyes look upon her; brave and noble spirit Artoria. His last words to her ring clearly; ‘You…don’t you feel ashamed!?’ He’d spat as the taste of iron filled his mouth and his body eventually crumbled to dust. So he hesitates, reaching his hand halfway only to draw it back, not only out of shame but the realisation that perhaps she would not recall, that she may not be who he believed her to be. It’s too late however and he’s made himself known to her, and merely looking into her eyes he knows he is mistaken.
“Forgive me I...mistook you for another,” casting his gaze to the floor momentarily before returning them to her. Although part of him wished to not face her now, the other part desired it; perhaps in dire hope he may reclaim something he lost that day and to redeem himself in her eyes. “Your bold presence reminds me of a warrior I once knew, nevertheless she wielded a sword and not a lance,” yet curious still that her features would look so alike to that spirit which he hoped to meet once again. “A canny weapon a lance, few choose to wield it alone” he comments offhandedly but with an inquisitiveness that sparked within his golden eyes.
