All of her things gathered, Haley had sought out Briscella's home. If she and Diarmuid were to avoid the Holy Grail war, the best course of action was obtaining transportation. They would travel far away from the small city hosting a war of Magi and only return when one or two remained.
Until then, she'd rely on intel that her friend could provide, given she hacked the Magus Association's files. Someone appointed by the Clock Tower would be reporting the events of the War, she just needed to make sure the information was legitimate.
Easier said than done, she supposed, but at least there was hope. Diarmuid hadn't...worn any look of disapproval knowing the matters in which they were to face. He seemed more appalled at her story (in all the right ways) than concerned of the trouble it'd bring. For once, she was elated.
The very figure of her favorite stories as a child was living and breathing at her side. Sworn to protect her, and while she was not a damsel, she had yet to prove it. It was embarrassing: splayed out in the mud, drenched to the bone with salt mingling with cloud water. She would detest how feeble she was in that moment and at least try to find bravery amidst whatever obstacles would come their way.
If only he wasn't so… quiet.
The brunette herself was actually the chatterbox if someone gave her the chance, Lancer, though? Even with her prompting to be more forward, to speak even if not spoken to, it seemed as though he had nothing to say.
But she had so many questions.
What difference was there in the tales she read to the actual person? Which ending of his life was the truth? How did he get the mole? A fairy, born with it, or from the Goddess of Youth?
More questions competed to slip off her tongue when words from the Knight finally broke their silent travels. "Master, how...how do you move with such skill without magical energy?"
Haley couldn't stop smiling to herself. They leaped from building top to towering skyscrapers and she hadn't batted a sweat. It didn't require much effort physically to carry herself with her mind. "I'm a telekinetic, so I can move myself."
Despite his invisibility (as Diarmuid was following her in Spirit form), she swore his eyebrows raised. "I'm more Psychic than Magus. The best skills I have for magic is healing. I can perform enhancements, make myself stronger, faster, the like. You, too, I think," She was blathering now, she knew, but kept on, "Not like you'd need it, given you're a Heroic Spirit, but who knows, it might be handy."
"Depending on the enemy Servant, it might possibly come of use." Diarmuid's reply sounded thoughtful, so she added,
"What about illusions? I think magi are probably less susceptible to it...but I've managed to trick a few in my travels, but what about Servants?"
The air was quiet as she assumed Lancer thought about it. Lighter than a feather carried by a gentle breeze, Haley landed gracefully at the center of a park. Next to her, she felt the presence of the concealed Spirit. Something she was going to have to get used to.
"Illusion magic… you are using it now, yes? It is why the public does not bat an eye as you scale rooftops, and arrive among them?" Diarmuid pondered out loud, his soft timbre carrying in the light breeze.
Nodding, the magic cut out and Haley began walking down the sidewalk to the houses that lined the streets across it. "Yep."
"I do not believe it would fool a Caster Class Servant for certain, and if I could sense it, it might not cause much effect on the others." The Knight paused when her lips lowered and added, "I apologize, I do not mean offense."
She shook her head side-to-side. He didn't have to be apologetic for pointing out her weaknesses. "No, you're fine. Thanks for being honest. It just means I have to be more...discreet with it. Use it strategically..." Haley gripped her arm and tapped her index finger at her elbow. What would be the best route to fool the Magi?
Well, there was plenty of time to think on the matter. Arriving at Briscella's home had her Heroic Spirit expressing his concern as the massive bounded field blocked his entry. Slipping her hand in her pocket, she pulled her phone and sent a text.
"My Lady, if you wish, I could survey the parameter while you discuss things with your friend." Lancer suggested, and while she might have accepted if she didn't think the barrier and Briscella capable, she would have let him. However, when her phone pinged, and the magic simmered, she only encouraged him to follow along.
Knowing whom they were to speak—Haley was certain her motherly figure would want to talk to him, and oh how she dreaded that particular matter of business. Brash was a good word to describe the Magus, and there was no doubt she would not hold back. So for Diarmuid's sake, Haley said, "My friend can be a bit...forward. So try not to take what she says to heart. She means well. But she is a woman. So if you wanted, you can stay in spirit form to avoid any trouble with your mole. I don't think it'd be a problem since she is a remarkable magus, but you never know."
"As you wish, my Lady." The door swung open just as Diarmuid replied—the petite blonde's arms spread wide. The long sleeves of her custom made sleepwear swayed from the motion, and she tapped her bare foot emphatically on the concrete.
"Ah, my dear, quickly now, come, come!" A smile promptly overtook the Psychic's lips, as she strolled to the woman and gave her the tightest hug she could muster.
Chest tight with longing, Haley pulled back and smiled, "Thank you for helping me, should we...go inside?"
"Of course sweet thing, but where is your Servant? Spirit form, I presume?" Briscella waved her hand for Haley to go inside, peering around her.
"Yeah, and he might not want to come into physical form due to—"
Briscella cut Haley off mid-sentence, ushering her inside before slapping the door shut behind her. She whirled in a dramatic spin, nothing but strained elation contouring her face, "You summoned Diarmuid?!"
Technically, she was rewarded hom from the grail by impossible odds, but nodded.
The woman steeled herself into neutrality with a hint of amusement, "Well, he was—is" she amended, "Your favorite myth since a little girl, although if I—"
Heat bloomed in Haley's cheeks, and an uneasiness she felt through that strange bond of Master and Servant bloomed that had her sputtering, "Anyway, I wanted to grab a couple of things you have saved for me, and to borrow your spare car. I figured the best way—and safest way to avoid others—would be driving farthest away from the Grail War here, so…" She gave Briscella a pleading look to not say whatever it was she thought about their pairing, and thankfully, all she did was sigh with resignation.
Coiling a stray blonde lock around her index finger, the older woman scanned the living room behind them with her emerald eyes. Right, they were still idling in the doorway of the grand room. Haley followed that contemplative stare to the large sectional sofa at the center. A square, black coffee table in the middle had scattered papers and a laptop with coffee that still steamed decorating it. Just behind it, the kitchen whose marbled bar-top could seat at least ten people, had been clear aside from a vase at its center surrounded by wine. Haley recognized the taffy colored petals of peony flowers that Briscella loved so much. Said they reminded her of home.
The British woman said with a tinge of dejection, "I had hoped you would stay a little longer, darling."
In retrospect, the Psychic wanted nothing more than to remain with her greatest, and only, friend. In that dark and lonely place she wanted to sooner forget, she was the light in that blackness. Haley memorized those rose colored cheeks, freckles beneath her jade orbs, and her long, burnished golden curls. This woman was who provided her the ambition to muster the strength to find her worth.
The woman hardly changed in the twelve years since that escape from unspeakable hardship to the next. Only faint wrinkles in her skin an indication, or the heaviness now in her eye as affliction overwhelmed her beauty.
"I want to...I do, but…" Haley turned to the hallway adjacent to the kitchen, "It's too dangerous. With Magi out for blood, mine or Lancer's in particular, I don't want to risk you. We both know what people are capable of when they want something so bad. And with my bounty—"
"Ah, so Lancer is aware of that bit, too?" Briscella interrupted, the wheels turning in the manner of which she spoke, as if deciding and contemplating. To the telekinetic's nod, she went on, "Good. Though I should remind you: I am no Magus to fret over. Concern yourself with you, and do not forget to utilize all the tools you have. Like that Servant of yours."
Haley bristled at the term, almost rounding the corner to the rooms lining the hall, "Diarmuid isn't a tool." She said firmly. Her glower to end their matter of different opinion lost in the way the Magus' lips lowered into a scornful frown.
"That sort of soft thinking will get you killed, love. Heroic Spirits exist solely for the purpose of us Magi to achieve whatever goal in mind for the War, and to die so that you may live. If you do not utilize him properly and not refrain from letting sentiment get in the way," Haley winced at the woman wagging a finger at her like she was a child, "Both you and he have no chance."
And she understood that, really she did. However, with settled quiet Haley said. "I can exploit his strengths just fine without treating him like he's disposable." And with that, she disappeared down the hall.
—
Lancer remained quiet, heeding their...dispute? Would one call it that? It was evident in the way the older woman sighed lengthily, this was not their first discussion of the matter. Of him, his use. He was to interject—not quite liking the tone the woman was having with his Master—when what Haley had said halted his interference.
He was not unfamiliar with his duty as a Servant, and the way the Magi handled such matters. It was apparent how little his existence was valued, given how often Kayneth sneered at him. His words were aggressive knocks, echoing in the back of his mind. Useless. Pathetic. A puppet. This woman—Briscella—clearly held similar principles. His Master, however…
Lancer looked to where she had vanished into the large house, her declaration still hanging in the vast space between them. That woman became a wall for what she believed in, and it was the first he'd seen her be...assertive. A smile quirked his lip.
"Lancer," His attention shifted to the friend, who strolled to the kitchen and popped the cork of a large bottle of some sort of liquor before she swigged it, "Show yourself to me, don't show yourself, I could not care. But you will listen. That girl...I love that girl. You best do whatever necessary to keep her safe." She took another sip of her drink, slanting her forlorn stare to where his Master once stood, "She is too gentle. Too kind. This whole thing could destroy her, you understand? Answer me."
"I do." He stated, his voice ghosting the room. Diarmuid believed well, that was this woman said rung true. Haley's cry, pleading to anyone for help making him think of her fragile heart. The call he'd answered to ease that hopelessness he sensed within it.
Briscella's head bobbed, "Good. If you fail, I swear on my life, I will find a way to summon you and torture you to no end for letting anything befall her." The bite in her statement had Diarmuid's blood run cold.
What a fierce woman. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"That being said, I hope you live up to her expectations. The famed, glorious Knight of the Fianna...the Lecher, and wife stealer." Lancer stilled, as still as he could get in spirit form, "You have yet to impress me."
"Really, Briscella? Stop harassing him, seriously." Haley's pitch snapped Diarmuid from his stupor, as she appeared with a second bag over her shoulder, "This is a perfect other reason as to why staying here is probably a bad idea."
The Magus threw her arms up emphatically, "What? Give me a little credit, I'm giving him a chance to prove himself better than what the legends proclaim."
His Master gave her a disapproving look, before huffing, "Uh-huh. Sure. You could be nicer, especially since he doesn't have to prove anything to you, remember, he's my epic herot?"
"All the more reason to be harsh, you are like a daughter to me, you know. I just want you to be protected, to be safe." The smile Briscella wore had Diarmuid materialize between the two of them.
He knelt, his head bowed to keep his mole from view just in case, as he said, "I have sworn on my honor as a Knight to ensure My Lady Haley is protected. I will not falter." Not this time. No, he would do better than the last. He spared a peak at Haley in the corner, perplexed to the point he'd almost chuckled, a crack in his impassive demeanor.
"My, aren't you a beautiful thing," He would have flinched at the implication, if not for the hint of disgust laced within the compliment. If he were being honest, having her dislike him was a gift, not a hindrance. "Well, I will hold you to your word, Lancer. Take good care of her for me. She is precious."
Haley's exasperated breath had the woman before him cackling, "I must say, Haley. You certainly know how to pick em'. I get why he's your favorite." Rising to his feet with his eyebrows raised, Diarmuid caught the features of the woman just in time to see her wink in his Lady's direction.
Despite himself, Lancer smiled, especially as his Master's face blanched. "Rude. Rude, rude, rude! That's not why…! Lancer, we're leaving," her hand snagged his bicep, dragging him backwards to the front door. Such force from a slender thing. "She's crazy, ignore her. Ignore everything she says!"
Boisterous laughter cut what was left of any tension, the sound of rustling in a drawer having his Master halt their awkward retreat.
"Do you not want the keys to the vehicle, 'My lady'?" The woman teased, dangling the silver gem between her middle and index finger. Her fist was propped under left cheek, her head angled in playful disinterest, long swirling strands of hair spilling over her shoulder.
Haley spun on her heels, the metallic ringing whizzing past Diarmuid's ears at the key dangled in front of her face. She nabbed the floating accessory, pointing her tongue straight at the lady with a lazy grin. "I love you."
Diarmuid watched as the features of the woman across the room softened so amorously, that his chest tightened. With a subtle nod, she said steadily, "I love you, too, sweetheart." She'd looked at him then, her intense gaze conveying just how much she meant every word she uttered throughout this encounter. "Protect her, Diarmuid. I'm counting on you."
—
In the car, his Master had apologized fervently for the older woman's behavior, but it bothered him not. It was just as she had warned: her friend only worried for her wellbeing.
Diarmuid beheld the passing of trees, houses and other sorts of rural imagery. Briscella's request fermenting his resolve, his purpose here. He made the correct decision, relenting to that strange summons. This life would be different, he'd assured himself, despite that ache in his heart. That shred of worry he'd either fail, or be betrayed.
He still hadn't mentioned that Holy Grail War to his Master yet, had he? Glimpsing the woman behind the wheel, back taut, focusing on the road, he debated. What would telling her do? Was she even aware of what happened in Fuyuki? How long ago was it, even? He searched the knowledge granted to him from the Grail, and the majority of it was hazy.
He was in 2014, driving through the streets of Perth Amboy, New Jersey. This was… the first Grail War of the Country, and...that was all. The rest, a blur of knowledge about the times, things that were deemed important yet not. Anything related to the war he'd been part of was fuzzy, aside from certain faces.
Kayneth, Sola Ui, Saber, and her Master—the events that led to his death are the clearest of them all. His body went rigid at the memory of them...the tang of blood in his mouth, and the throb of pain wedged in his left side. The sound of his hoarse voice as he cursed them all, vowed to never forgive—
No, he would not mention that miserable existence. The likelihood of seeing any of those faces were too slim to burden his Master with that humiliation. What would she think, if she saw him in that vile state? From what her friend insinuated, she thought highly of him, and how different would that perspective shift if she knew of how quickly and tastelessly he was disposed of?
Dragging his attention away from the Lady, (as he realized he was staring by this point) Lancer studied the path they were taking. Understanding their terrain was important, even if they were not to compete for the Holy Grail. Eventually, as the woman had mentioned, they'll be dragged into it, and the last thing he wanted to do was be unprepared.
Not this time. He knew now what others were truly capable of in this despicable war. The lengths the Magi would go to, to ensure their victory.
Diarmuid looked to his Master once more. Gentle, kind, Briscella had said. If there were Master's like Saber's, or Caster's, what sort of fate would befall her? And that bounty, if any of them were aware—what would they do to obtain whatever reward waited for them? That would be such an undeserving fate if it befell her—if she were the kind of person he was believing her to be.
It was imperative—if he was to bring his Master victory, Grail in hand or not—to keep the enemy far away from her.
"So, do you...want to talk a bit more about what exactly it is we're doing? What I...expect out of this?" Haley blurted, definitely sensing his continuous scrutiny.
"Certainly," Lancer looked out the sedan's front window, the stop light halting them from merging onto a highway. "What are your commands, Master?"
Shifting in her seat, the Psychic rolled her lower lip under her top teeth, "No commands, unless necessary, I guess. Teamwork, if that makes sense. We can't avoid the war forever, and if we have to fight, then…" she swallowed, as the light plunged from red to green, "I can do it. Fight, I mean. I'm stronger than I look."
Warily, Diarmuid said, "You, wish to take part on the battlefield?"
"Mhmm. Against Servants, I'm not sure what my threshold is, but, against other Masters, and all that, I can manage…" she glanced in his direction, "What?"
Confliction must have been dancing on his features, as Diarmuid looked away. Not long before, she was cowering before a Servant...although she had managed to elude him for a time, that despair…was she truly capable of defending herself without breaking down? Was she already losing faith in him? What right though, did he have to question her, his Master?
"Would it...be wise, My Lady? With you, not knowing the ways of battle, to be at the front lines? Do you doubt—" She waved a hand, her eyelid's lowering a fraction, his mouth clamping shut.
"Yes. I know you came to my rescue, and I'm forever grateful for it but...I just wasn't prepared, was alone and was still figuring out what I wanted to do. But now that you're here...someone I trust, I feel much better about it all."
The car sped, blurs of green and greys going past while Lancer schooled his features in neutrality, despite the pounding of his heart. She trusted him, and yet he was wavering on it. Sola-ui's face flashed, her eyes blinded with false love on top of that building. A quite similar situation indeed.
He'd left her, alone on top that rooftop and it resulted in her capture, and severed hand. If he could not protect her at a distance, would it be wiser to shield his Master up close? Though, if she were partaking in combat, how could he uphold that quest, then?
"Diarmuid," she said, snapping out of his thoughts, "I know what you're thinking, at least, I think I do. But have a little faith in me, okay?"
The Knight looked at her then, as resilience burned in her stare, "That's the whole point of teamwork. Together we make the decisions, unless they're snap judgements, together we...together we find a way. It's all we can do because if we, if we can't agree, or find common ground, it'll ruin us."
Every word was quieter than the last, but still held such fortitude that Diarmuid's lips tugged into a smile. What she murmured, unknowingly or not, was that rift that drove him and Kayneth apart. Had he just communicated with him better, worked with him to do noble battle than maybe…
"Alright," he replied, and the happiness that washed away the concern in her glacier blue eyes left him saying, "Let us strategize, then."
—
Discussing different approaches was lengthier than Diarmuid imagined it'd be. To his surprise, his Master was well educated on different methods to handle their opponents. Her suggestion in particular to keep Gae Dearg and Gae Buidhe unguarded to leave the Servants and Master's guessing was particularly smart. If they had believed the effects of his spears were merely just afterthoughts of the blades, they'd be preparing for a Noble Phantasm that was already unleashed.
Other plans included keeping his mole masked if she could find a way, so not to reveal his charm spell. Keeping his identity hidden was almost an argument, until he realized just how much it meant for her safety, to have the enemy guessing. He still did not like it, though he would adhere to the Lady's wishes. He'd ensure none knew his name but she, if he could so help it.
Once they assured they were completely in sync, differences in opinions aside with as much middle ground agreement as possible, the metaphorical hands strangling him loosened a bit. Hope was being dangled in front of him like a lure, and he was inclined to reach out for it. Hope that somehow, history would not repeat for yet a third time, however guarded he would remain.
Well, as of now it mattered not. Haley made it difficult to think of anything other than the music blaring on the radio. The Lady was insistent he change through the different channels to find which style of modern music he'd enjoyed. Anything to pass the time, while they travelled to the neighboring state.
He'd found a symphony of tunes that caught his attention. Most was instrumental, reminding him of the Fae and some Bards in the Fianna. Radio chatter sometimes overtook the strange device, and Haley has found herself rambling about the modern era.
Across the horizon, the sky transitioned from the clear blue to the magic of twilight. The smooth glide of the car put the Irishman at ease. Through the glass, the remnants of human life flickered out, replaced with towering trees as far as the eye could see.
The flow of the car slowed, and reared to the furthest right lane as Haley said, "I'm getting a little tired. There's a rest stop up ahead for people who travel, and it'd be perfect to stay away from people, while also being with people."
Diarmuid flexed his arms above his head, muscles rippling as he did. It was the most human gesture he'd made since his summoning. Although, if they were to take refuge somewhere, he began sharpening his senses like a knife. Night swiftly approached, and a Servant could easily be looming around the corner.
At the service stop, there were woodlands lining a small, bricked building. Two entrances were weaved in the middle, signs above for humans to do their business. Steel machines humming with energy at either side had fatigued travelers buzzing about them.
"Vending machines," The Lady elaborated to him, as he angled his head quizzically at the interesting contraptions. "They give food and drink." She furthered explained, turning back to digging through a bag in the back seat.
"Ah," He murmured, scratching at the back of nape.
Finding whatever she was scavenging for, Haley strolled past him but cocked her head, looking the Heroic Spirit over, "You know, you stand out in that spandex. I'm surprised Briscella didn't make fun of you in it."
Grinning, Diarmuid swiveled to face her, "It bears my strength, Lady Haley."
The woman returned that feral smirk with her own, "It shows your man boobs." Giggling, she made an interesting gesture with her fingers before stalking off, "Ima go to the bathroom, be back in a few. Try not to draw any more attention to yourself!"
"Man boobs?" He asked no one in particular, gauging his surroundings before resting his back on the cool metal of the vehicle. Some civilians indeed threw him thoughtful scans, but otherwise said nothing.
Lancer should be in spirit form, yet—he observed where the smell of pine flooded his senses, squirrels scurried about and cool air kissed his skin. Refreshing it felt, being allowed to encounter nature and life once more, without the burden of reprimand and distaste for his type of being. Duty of course would yank him back to the reality of being a Servant in a Holy Grail war, however, he would follow his Master's order to enjoy the freedom. It was possible, wasn't it, this early in the war?
Before he could ponder on it longer, Haley returned, snacks in hand, extending one to him. Lancer cocked his head, "For me?"
"Heroic Spirits can eat, right? It's a chocolate with caramel, I think you'll like it!" The woman said it so cheerfully, that he found himself taking the treat.
Inspecting it before tearing away at the wrapper, Diarmuid answered her query, even if it seemed rather rhetorical, "We can, though we need not. Our bodys don't require sustenance as you humans do." Haley flapped her hand in response, and he broke the long bar before popping the piece into his mouth. "It's…" He let the chocolate melt on his tongue, and enjoyed the crunch of the...wafer, was it? "It's good."
It surprised him, how rapt he'd sounded, just as Haley said, "I'm glad. I also have a gift for you."
"A gift?"
The young woman fished something out of her jeans pocket, and flashed it before him. It was another electronic device. A square screen with its edges rounded. Attached was a cable with two little buds at the end. "It's called an iPod. It plays music, and other sorts of things. I saw...how much you seemed to relax to the songs in the car and figured I'd create you a playlist of music similar to what you liked. Here, let me show you how to use it."
Before he could decline, as truly, gifts were not needed, Haley was already placing the device in his free hand and rambling off instructions. She was so delighted, explaining different buttons and sounds that Diarmuid's shoulders fell in defeat. The woman was attempting her best to ensure he was content in the new era, more so than Kayneth ever did. Her consideration to his comfort was sweet.
"Well, I'm going to get some shut eye," Haley said, stifling a yawn, slacking the driver's seat to the rear. "You'll stand watch?"
"Rest easy, my Lady. I'll be on top of the car's roof if you need me."
"Enjoy the music." Haley pat his arm, before ducking into the car. She was to close the door, but Lancer politely had done so for her.
When it clasped shut, Haley spoke lightly through the half opened window, "Thank you, Diarmuid. For keeping me safe. I appreciate you, very much."
The Irish Knight leaned over the right arm he'd crossed over his chest. Afterward, the car creaked as he climbed on top of it, laying flat down on his back. He found the far pepper beyond, taking yet another bite of the delicious snack. He studied Haley's gift once done with the treat and inserted the piece to his ear.
Diarmuid was surrounded by the smells and air of nature. A wonderful chorus of string instruments sung to him. Sighing, he let his eyelids fall. Despite all the inner turmoil and conflicts he was sure to soon arise, this was peace, and he was grateful to his Master for it.
—
A knife carved the flesh away from Haley's body. Glaring at her was the vivid crimson of muscle. It gleamed in the shadows, while screams echoed along the dungeon walls. More skin tore away from tissue and bone.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Begging and crying would not move this man, she knew, but the little girl couldn't help it. She was still too innocent, and ignorant of the art of healing. In no way, she could stitch the skin back together with magic.
The longer she waited…the more of her insides laughed at her broken wails. His face never removed that blank, careless expression as father filleted daughter like a fish.
"Father, please, please! Stop!"
Haley's eyes widened, the ceiling of the car peering down at her. Diarmuid was immediately at her side, worry distorting his unnaturally handsome features. "What's...wrong?" she asked through the murkiness of restless sleep.
Her Heroic Spirit deflated like a balloon out of air, "You...were frantic. In my mind, you were hysterically crying out to stop."
The telekinetic could feel her face souring. Somehow, she managed to telepathically send her dream to Diarmuid. She shook her head, setting the seat up and lowering her brow to the steering wheel of the car. "I'm...sorry. It was a nightmare. Happens all the time...I'm fine, though."
Sagging further onto the window, Lancer loosed a breath. "You need not apologize." Haley peeked through the crease in her elbow at the wavy haired man, and ran her fingers through his dark locks. She could have sworn he flinched at her touch.
"We...should go. I don't think I can sleep now." She whispered, retracting her hand as Diarmuid walked around the car and slipped in. After noting the click of the seatbelt, the engine whirred, and lights snapped on.
Hands still trembling as Haley steered the car onto the deserted highway, observing the outline of trees and brush lining tenebrosity. She caught Diarmuid studying her at the corner of her eye. She was to open her mouth to explain—the dreams—that haunt her of her father's torturous training. Only, the unease lingering on his features shifted.
Lancer's eyebrows knit together, his lips tugging down as his head whipped to the gloomy night behind him. Haley felt it, then, the abrupt heat, and wave of magical energy.
Just before the car toppled over.
ooooooooooooo
Alright, the setup is finally done. Yeesh, I hope yall arent bored to tears, and have enjoyed the interactions thus far. The Grail War has found its way to our Heroines, though. And well, there will be grief, despite how little both want it.
If anyone wants updates on my fics, or wants to see the art I have associated with them and some other fandoms, etc. Feel free to follow me on tumblr! My username is Samwiches
Look forward to seeing you in the next chapter!