#lancerofclay 01

[twocursedroses]

The lake shimmered before him under the moon and fireworks, dozens of candles floating down the lake like some sort of ritual. The lights felt nostalgic, almost as if they were meant for the dead. Would those lights guide the lost souls to their destinations beyond the battlefields and death? 

Though the local vendor had assured this was not meant for the dead but for the living who had departed the city. It would bring them luck, perhaps tempt the goddess of fortune to favor them. 

He had lost no one in his brief arrival to Spirale, yet a small raft was held between his hands as he stared at the lake.

@lancerofclay

[medblethderg]

@lancerofclay

Wandering about the streets of Eriol, Medb was in search for something interesting. Magic was in the air, and it pleased her greatly; like a child enchanted by the atmosphere of a candy store, Medb simply couldn’t stop smiling.

Soon enough, the sight of something sticking out from atop the genreal crowd caught Medb’s attention, and she hurried through individuals to reach her target. That something became evident-- horns, attached to a particularly interesting looking person. Their body was abuzz with magic, it was easy for her to sense. Could it be... a Servant?

“...!”

“You’re quite stunning, aren’t you?”

Invading the other Servant’s space, Medb was quick to jump into conversation, clearly not caring about the time nor place.

[truegoldenking]

@lancerofclay

The torrent of petals never ceased. There was an uncanny resemblance between that area of the city and Fuyuki. It was almost like a stolen landscape in its prime, the everblooming trees, so different from the ugly husks of winter. 

These cherry blossoms truly belonged to a paradise worthy of the gods. Even Gilgamesh could appreciate it as he stood in their shade, the gentle breeze scattering a few of his golden strands. His eyes shadowed under the fringe stared ahead, almost peaceful as he allowed himself the solitude in a place worthy of the First True King. 

Despite the perfect silence, his thoughts burned, unsettled, as he attempted to understand the power of the supposed gods who had sealed his power and his access to the legendary treasury. What was a King without his riches? It didn’t matter, they still belonged to him, just like each one of the stars. Just like every falling petal of that delicate tree above his head.

A hand reached out, capturing one of the delicate blooms. Mine.