We left the beach close to eight, me trailing behind Archer like a scolded dog after running away. I keep scuffing the ground with my sneakers, kicking rocks too and fro in the awkward silence; Archer couldn't care less. I was a burden to him, and he was making it clear as day. So I march on with a scowl on my face. I tried making sense of the situation – Takao's moleskin in my coat, the little shield in my pocket – but Archer had a hard time answering my questions.
"Why do you wear red?" (I hate that color, if I forgot to mention that.)
"Why are you wearing a coat."
"Why are you so cocky?"
"Why are you so obnoxious."
"How did that person use those shadows?"
"Magic. How did you get that shield?" (I think that question of his actually meant something to him – he turned around slightly to emphasize a glare at me)
"Magic. What's a 'Servant'?"
"A Heroic Spirit brought back to the land of the living through a mana connection between themselves and a Master. How did yo-"
"And who's a Master?"
"Someone who controls and beckons a Heroic Spirit. I'm not answering any more questions until you answer mine."
"My brother bought it." I rub a finger over the back of the small surface, where it still coos from within my jacket. "How did you know I was there?"
"The same way the woman knew you were there. You cast a spell that opened a channel between yourself and the Holy Grail. How did your brother get it?"
"He bought it somewhere. What's the 'Holy Grail'?"
"A divine wish-granter. Where did he buy it, girl?"
"Why do you call me that? And I don't know where, he never cared to tell me. What makes it divine? Who made it?"
We went for a few miles – about an hour's worth of walking – before he finally stopped. We were working our way inland and were near a park on the outskirts of New Town. It's a classic park without much in it other than grass, trees, and the occasional bench. Even the lampposts beside the main path seem dreary and tired of the human-comb scenery. Its as if we think this is natural, tending to such a small chunk of land like it's a Shiba Inu or a Pomeranian – let it out for the weekend and it'll die within hours. This is it, the sterilization and prostration of nature that man partakes in.
I can't stand parks like these.
But it wasn't the scenery that we stopped for; even I can sense a faint musk in the air, a sixth-sense that makes my skin crawl. I was still waiting for an answer, but instead I was leashed like a dog. "Stop," Archer commands, head turned sideways and eyes prying at the every detail of our surroundings.
He's really actually beautiful, now that I've spent some time with him. He clearly works out, at the very least. But it's his demeanor that kinda rubs me the wrong way: he carries himself like the world is below him, like everything is nothing, and nothing is nothing worth caring about. Evenso, his demeanor is kinda… beautiful in its own. God, he seems like a trip. I wonder if he has anyone to call family.
He's not thinking about that right now. He turns around and picks me up by the back of my shirt, and I squeal in surprise. "What the h-!"
"Silence!" He hisses, eyes on the shadows. He forcefully drops me in some brambles and makes a point to glare at me. "No matter what happens next, you stay down, understand?"
I open my mouth with a sharp retort as I pull my shirt down from the snarl of thorns, but he leans in closer. "Girl, this may be life or death for you. Do as I say, and do not run. Understand?"
Wait, what's going on? I don't have time to answer him as he walks forward and away so his back is to me once more. Oh god, oh god, what's going on?!
Oh god, my heartbeat is driving me crazy. I feel like my heart is going to burst from my chest if I stay down here any longer. I fidget, but remain.
Hold on a second, I'm not helpless! I shut my eyes and hone my ears… harder… harder!
The sensation of the brambles fades away, and the cold ground whispers away. Harder…harder!
The sounds flood me – first the insects in the soil, then the wind caressing Archer's hair. Then… harder… harder! Feet down the path.
They are heavy, almost clad in metal. I want to open my eyes, but the person has to be pretty far away still. What the hell is going on in this world? Is it a cyborg, a metal monster? No, they walk on two legs, so its no Trojan horse… but what is it?
The feet stop, and I pry my eyes open, begging to see the newcomer before us. At first my eyes are too forcefully commanded to adjust to the lights and colors so I'm blinded momentarily. As my feeling flows back to my fingers and toes, I find myself cutting my fingers against the rasping thorns of the bush I was planted in.
And what I finally see, I simply cannot believe.
The husk of armor stood upright and statue-esk, unmoving in the slight breeze. From my perspective within the bramble, the armor stood glistening white, pure as a flippin' virgin, if you think about it; in a way its almost ironic, given that whoever wears that probably has killed an ass-ton of people. The shoulder pads arch like arrowheads, and twinning pieces of steel flanks both of the warrior's legs. The soldier is covered from head to toe (or so it would seem) with red accents striping and spanning from metallic piece to metallic piece.
Under the clawed right clove is the hilt of a sword as long as myself. Its weird, looking at a sword and thinking that it's a real thing, since the only thing we've got round here are those plastic things kids wave around. A child-like curiosity makes me want prod it – you know, test whether or not it's the real deal – but Archer's anxious battle stance tells me otherwise.
The helmet leaves no room for guessing who was inside, since the only visibility to within it is the narrow slits for the bearer's eyes. Bull-like horns arch and twine from the helmet on either side, giving the complete uniform an almost demonic look. If the suit itself weren't so white, I'd say it was almost sinister looking. I try to peek up from the thickets, but freeze as the head shifts ever so slightly in my direction.
Archer stands, his drapery flowing behind him as he sizes up the knight in front of him. That is a knight, isn't it? I honestly had a hard time believing they were real, but shit almighty, here we are! If this Holy Grail thing is serious business, then maybe I need to reconsider the situation we're in.
"What do you want?" Archer demands, eyes narrowed. "If you are a fellow Servant without a Master to heed, then let me be."
What the hell is he talking about? Archer's no one's Servant… right? Is he going on with this person about that 'Holy Grail'? He wouldn't make all that much of a waiter or a butler if you ask me…
But the soldier gives no notion of answering. Instead, it clasps the handle of its weapon in both hands, shifting his weight so he's more centered. The tip of the sword digs slightly into the ground between his legs, and the left hand lifts and curls its digits. "I am assuming you are the Saber-class servant. Honor your dignified title," Archer commands, his reassuring confidence diminishing ever-so slightly, "and leave this place now." The statue before him doesn't respond: to the untrained ear, that is the sound of ignorance. Here, my guardian responds to the silence as if shot at through the heart.
Archer spreads his legs a little to better ready himself for whatever hell's about to come his way: and here I am, hiding like a goddammned fool.
What the hell is going on?
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[IS ANYONE ELSE PUMPED FOR S2 OF FATE/STAY NIGHT UBW? I'LL PROB UPLOAD THE SECOND HALF OF THIS TOMORROW JUST CAUSE]