That might be one of the best expressions he had ever seen from Cú. It was the quiet gasp for air that preceded that half glare of his that caught his attention, just before his fingers moved to scratch behind those adorable set of ears. But that light blush suited him more than that halfhearted glare and because of it, Archer could hardly keep his hands to himself. A brief moment of surprised coloured his features before a smirk took over instead and Emiya tilted his head, his fingers once again reached to massage those ears of his and they would continue to do so until he would truly slap his hands away but he also couldn't help himself.
He was the subject of his attention for a while now and that expression begged to be a little teased for. Even so, he couldn't push too far but his head tilted to the side, lips finding the centre of that warmth and a small kiss was pressed against his cheek. ❛ Guess not. ❜ He hummed playfully. ❛ Otherwise you already would be by now. ❜
"You can put it that way. It belongs to Naoise, dunno why I have it with me." The sarcasm was completely lost on Deirdre, briefly summoning Luithech to swing it a few times with a skill she didn't possess back when she was alive. A slingshot was more up her valley, useful for hunting small animals and birds in the wild. Why did she have it now? She didn't know, but it was both useful and troublesome.
"Do your worst," the Saber said, her face still stuck with a deadpanned expression, while giving a thumbs up to the warrior. "Scream if you need my help or want me to check something. I'll do the same."
The morning is grey — the kind of grey that softens edges while muffling sound, making the world feel as if it's been wrapped within dampened silk. Mist clings to cobblestones, a soft fog drifting through the crisp air. The bustle of the city is consumed by the atmosphere, as if silence has decided that it will rule over all for the day.
Suigetsu sits upon an elegant wire frame chair outside of the shop.
It wasn't here yesterday. Anyone who passed this street before would swear it. Prior to the day, it was simply an alley between a baker's and a closed-down tavern, always empty, occasionally used for strange dealings of meaningless arguments, but always overlooked. Yet, this morning, the building stands. Two stories of dark wood and paper screens, glass lanterns with intricate filigree hanging beside the door, a single wind chime of pale green grass twirling about without making a sound. No sign, no name — just an open door, and the elegant woman seated beside it.
She wears a kimono the color of dried blood — deep rust, almost brown, patterned with the gentle embroidery of withering maple leaves. Within her hands is a slender book, one without a title, simply a deep mossy green cover, a tan spine, fingers drifting down the page as she reads voraciously. The chair creaks when she shifts her weight, the gazes of confused passerby seeming invisible as they refuse to take her focus from the leisurely task at hand.
Upon hearing a certain step of footsteps, though, her head turns — slowly, smoothly, as if her neck were oiled. Eyes lift, the gentle, droopy shape of them contradicting with the sharpness of her gaze, long lashes casting faint shadows onto her cheekbones. Trained upon the figure before her, the book within her hands is slowly shut, a soft smile spreading upon her lips.
“ I've been expecting you, ” she states simply, “ the winds told me of your coming. ”
an arm settled around archer's shoulders, palm patting away at one while he leaned into the other with a smirk. ❛ yo, ❜ came his chipper greeting, and in the spirit of camaraderie his arm soon retreated again, a brief semblance of personal space returned to his seemingly favoured cook. soon enough, though, the lancer snatched his hand, holding it gently and carefully slipping a bracelet onto his wrist, lacking any clasp and seemingly measured to slip over his palm with relative ease. at first glance it appeared to be wooden, though closer inspection revealed it to be more precisely fashioned from small roots, and bearing a design strikingly similar to his own silver accessories.
That his personal space was invaded by that Lancer was something he came to expect in his day to the day these days. His mind was still on all the tiny gifts he had to distribute so he didn't pay as much attention as he should — as a servant especially. He twitched lightly when it came around his shoulder but that familiar voice close to his ear did have him relax shortly after and his head immediately turned towards him to watch his expression. He was rather hoping he wouldn't have made a big deal out of the gift he had given him ( more importantly that he wouldn't bring it up ) and just enjoyed the cookies he left as his own little peace offering but when his hand was taken and something slipped around his wrist, he realised that he was still not spared retaliation.
Even if this time around it could hardly be called as such.
Still, he stared at that bracelet now sitting around his wrist with quiet appreciation. Awkward as he was, the silence stretched out long as his eyes wandered along the twined roots and he thought it looked difficult to make. It was something far beyond his skills, too, even if it was something he could appreciate and it made him look at Lancer with wider eyes that soon very quickly turned to normal as Archer fixed his face. ❛ I don't give gifts because I expect something in return, you know. ❜ He said and even to his ears he sounded more dismissive than he wanted to be. He looked back down onto the bracelet and gently curled his fingers into a fist. He would have to figure out how to keep it safe as there was no way he would take it off, now. ❛ ...but thank you. ❜
The Berserker snorted. Yeah, when has any of that ever stopped him from doing his own thing? Still, it was annoying to have to sit through hours-long lectures explaining the importance to adapt to modern times and being considerate of the staff. How about having consideration for his sleep schedule? How was he supposed to take a nap here if he didn't a severed head to rest his knee on? But rest isn't necessary for a heroic spirit.
Cú Chulainn jabbed an elbow at him and, as if it was a near instinctual reaction, the type that was perfected after years of practice, the Berserker trapped the Lancer in a headlock and immediately messed their hair. "Sounds like a plan, but don't start pouting when I catch everything." Even if he was being insufferable at the moment, he would still hand over half of his catch to them.
❛ hey, dickhead, ❜ the fiend bellowed for no real reason, given that his target was right before him. it was difficult to be unaware of those stellaron hunters, given every other planet and / or space station was covered in wanted posters doled out by those ipc scum, but this one was particularly interesting based on the rumours surrounding him. another one like him, it seemed, and he wondered where they might overlap or where differences rested. ❛ one of the stellaron hunters, huh ? up for a fight to the death ? ❜ // (yulan in case it wasn't obvious,,,)
Planarcadia was pointlessly, needlessly, loud. Even side streets like the one he found himself on then were filled with people and restless noise, colourful blobs that were chattering little creatures occupying every corner and every wall. It was strangely not as overwhelming as he first thought it would be but it made finding spots to meditate it awfully sparse. The one he occupied then was hardly devoid of those little square creatures ( Imagenae, as he was told ) but they crowded around him with those quiet little chatters and squeaks and he could do nothing but incorporate them into his meditations.
The interruption was thus, not only accepted but also expected.
His eyes opened slowly to look up at that loud man before him and he let out an exasperated, long sigh before he unfurled his arms from around his damaged sword. He did not know who he was nor did he know if that challenge was issued in earnest but he had made it and Blade took it as a promise.
❛ If death is something you want to see, who am I to deny you it? ❜ He said in his usual, tired tone because his death won't come now, not in a dark alley away from any consequences; he was not that lucky. He stood from his crates and the little square blobs scattered from around his feet, their chattering growing animated and excited as they circled the crates, walls and ground around them. Blade drew his sword and stood in the makeshift arena without much energy to him. ❛ Just remember you asked for it yourself. ❜
a certain kremnoan may have fallen asleep on that rooftop he typically spent his free time idling on, sat with his back leaning against a wall and enjoying the shade there— it would be a shame if anyone walked in on that.
Longing had been part of his being for as long as he could remember.
He had longed to be a hero as a child and once his village had been burned to the ground by the Black Tide, he had longed for that peaceful life that had been stripped from him. He had longed for his home, his friends, his innocence: longed for peace, for salvation, for absolution; longed for forgiveness, for victory and for the true dawn to finally rise and everyone's wishes to be made true.
And they succeeded. Amphoreus was now on the verge of breaking into reality —as per his partner's good news— The Black Tide no longer threatened to consume his home, the lives that they had lost had been restored and Amphoreus was welcoming its true dawn. Everywhere he looked were celebrations of life, easy going faces and peace unlike what he had ever imagined. Okhema was brilliantly alive like never before and now, even its heirs could bask in the simplicity of life. His thirty million cycles of torment paid off in the best way possible and if it meant achieving this victory, he would do it again
But for him, it also meant longing continued, this time for something new.
He longed for a managed that longing was much more simple. It still consumed him fully; his mind was filled with Mydeimos whenever he wasn't busy, he stole glances at him whenever he spotted him and looked for every excuse in the book to stand by his side again. Spending time with him had always been easy and nothing had really changed between them but still it felt like it was more, like he finally had the room, the opportunity to devote himself to his last longing fully.
He had so much time on his hands now and he watched him half of it. What wasn't spent catching up with friends and family once lost, he did with Mydei and sometimes that meant watching him take a nap on that rooftop of theirs. It was strange feeling such profound yearning as he did then but at the same time it felt so simple; compared to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, simply wanting to lay in the sun next to the man he loved seemed like a lighthearted matter. It would just be them, for once, with no prophecies to think of, no blades stuck in his back and no mourning so maddening it blacked him out each time.
It was yearning and it was guilt and yet that guilt could not overshadow how much he wanted to just be with him. He walked across the the sunshades strewn between buildings until he reached that rooftop Mydei lounged at and once he was there, he quietly so to not disturb him sat down next to him. His back leaned against the halfwall and for a few quiet moments, he just sat there, watching the rise and fall of Mydei's chest and wondered if he felt as peaceful as he did in that moment, then slowly lowered himself down onto his back, one of his arms tucked underneath his head while the other laid across his own stomach and his head turned towards the prince to watch him while he dozed away.
that working the days away at the seat of divine foresight was hardly an enjoyable way to let the years pass him by was no secret, surely, and still jing yuan took care not to be too direct when it came to showing how weary of the work he had become. thankfully, small, occasional distractions, such as visiting friends, provided enough of a respite to keep him going. as such, when he spotted the nameless on one of his walks to and fro, he promptly made his way over and offered a friendly smile. ❛ i didn't expect to see your astral friends today. to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence ? ❜ // and one mr general for stelle as well
It was nice to stop at the Xianzhou Luofu now and then, Stelle thought. Her face wasn't as known here as it had become in Belebog or Penacony, and though she still often found herself dragged into helping, it never felt as expected as it did elsewhere.
Still, there were other unique challenges- such as making sure she didn't leave bad enough impressions that it reflected on the rest of the Express. If Stelle had to think, she had some inklings as to why she felt uniquely pressed here in that regard, but, well, she preferred to not think.
"General!" Quickly, she did a mental run through of her day, making sure she hadn't done anything too illegal.
She was in the clear... maybe? What counted as too illegal, anyway?
"Ah, just a pit stop while we head back to the Herta Space Station. Himeko said something about bringing her some research material in exchange for supplies, I think." So maybe Stelle had tuned it out, preferring to think of her to do list while on the Luofu. Dumpster Diving, sneaking Bailu out of the Alchemy Commission, taste testing more Flaming Teas, maybe snagging another Wanted Poster for her room, the choices were endless.
"I didn't think I'd run into you, or I would've brought something from our last trip." He was often quite busy with his position after all, she thought. "Snuck away for a breather?"
