Chapter 9: Meet and Greet
Clashing steel and crackling gunfire retreated into a faint wail as the group quickly fled from the site of battle. Crossing across the vast plains, the group placed a great distance between themselves and the warring armies. They followed the two unknown Servants all the way to a large encampment sprawling with canvas tents and parked wagons. A few colonial soldiers stood along the edges of the camp, acting as lookouts. Upon noticing the group's approach, one waves over to them and shouts over a joyful greeting.
"Geronimo! You've made it back! Where are the others?" The soldier asks as they near.
The tribal Servant smiles back at the man, "The mission was a success, the others should be right behind us and soon return. For the meantime…" Turning around, the dark skinned Servant addresses the group of Chaldeans, "I'm sure that you all may have plenty of questions to ask. That's fine. There's many things we must discuss as well. First, I'd like to get introductions out of the way, so I'm going to gather all of us for a meeting."
A hovering screen pops into existence right beside Mash, and from it comes the Acting Director's voice, "These 'other people' you're speaking about, are they Servants such as yourself?"
Surprise flickers across the faces of those present who're unfamiliar with the technology of Chaldea. Geronimo glances at floating transmission with interest before focusing back on the topic at hand, "Yes, that's right. There's eight of us here in total and when the rest of our forces come back, we'll all be gathered."
"Eight Servants…" The doctor repeats in slight surprise. Humming thoughtfully, the digital screen turns to face the three Masters, "What do you think, Gudao, Gudako, Wyatt?"
"Let's hear them out / I've got no problems with this / We'll trust them, for now." The three Masters answer simultaneously.
"They did kinda save us earlier." Gudako reminds, "I think they're goodish people."
"We'll learn more about the Singularity this way. And having some allies won't hurt." Gudao adds, agreeing with his friend's assessment.
A small, gentle smile makes its way onto Geronimo's face as he hears the positive words of the two Masters, "I'm glad that you think such things of us. Thank you for being willing to hear us out. I'll show you the way." Heading into the camp, the rest of them follow his lead. Walking a few steps away, the group pauses as the soldier from earlier suddenly shouts something over at them.
"Oh, and um, Geronimo! Please be careful!" Apprehension fills the soldier's face as fear leaks into his voice. His next words are spoken quietly, a whisper barely above the whistling of the wind. Like delivering the news of incoming death, the man speaks with absolute urgency.
"It's performance hour…"
Geronimo's kind smile instantly drops, a grim expression forming on his face, "I…see." Staring ahead with dread in his eyes, the tribal man takes a moment to collect himself before responding, "I appreciate the warning. Continue keeping watch for now and keep up the good work."
His partner was much less composed.
"O-Oi, Geronimo! Let's not be hasty, yeah?! We can wait a little bit, right?! Or better yet, let's just introduce ourselves out here!" The blonde cowboy Servant pleads in a frenzied panic. Terrified eyes begs his fellow Servant to reconsider his choice, and the western man himself appears to be just on the verge of dropping to his knees and begging physically with all his might.
But the tribal man only shook his head, sending the gunslinger further into the descent of despair, "We shall endure it. This matter cannot wait." Continuing his stroll forward and turning to face the Chaldean people, Geronimo gives an apologetic smile, "Please brace yourselves. I'm afraid that what's to come next might be slightly painful."
"Slightly?! You're kidding me right?!" The blonde man incredulously exclaims, reluctantly trudging after the leading Servant.
Confusion spreads across the faces of the Masters and their Servants. What did he exactly mean by that? Gudao and Gudako glances at each other before shrugging their shoulders, and they move to follow the two Servants.
Striding through the encampment, Wyatt's idle eyes gazed over the surroundings, taking note of everything around them. The camp itself was set up in a rather ordinary location, in the thicket of a couple trees and nearby a running stream. Many soldiers are scattered across the place, some are cleaning their muskets, a couple are reading, and the rest are socializing with each other. The number of people noticeably lessened as they approached the center of the camp, and those who were around seemed nervous somehow? Wait…
Are they wearing earplugs?
And then he heard it, the personification of pain and torture being carried to his ears by the wind. The yowls of a feral cat being viscously strangled to death. No, that's not quite accurate. It was the sound of a thousand nails relentlessly scraping away at a chalkboard. No, perhaps it was more like the death throes of a screeching, maddened banshee. Either way…
It's one of the worst things Wyatt has ever heard in his many lives.
Recognition flashes across Mash's expression as she winces at the dissonance of terrible noise grating against her ears, "Senpai, that familiar song…Could it be?"
Exhaustion overtakes the two teen Masters as disbelief crosses their features.
"Covering your ears does nothing." The gunslinger Servant whines in agonizing pain, "The sound burns itself into your mind."
In the very center of the encampment, facing multiple rows of wooden theater benches, sat a giant makeshift stage draped with lavish red and gold curtains, and decorated with billowing pink and purple banners. Two short figures stood onstage, swaying to the rhythm of an unhearable song. Dressed in a pure white bridal outfit, a familiar blonde woman sang loudly and twirls about, horribly off-note and tone deaf. Beside her, swaying along with the lyrics, stood a young pinkette with horns twirling out of the large, pink-striped tophat that she wore and a draconic tail slowly wagging back and forth in happiness behind her. Wearing a light pink frilly dress similar to that of a sweet lolita style, the young girl energetically sings into a microphone while happily dancing. Comparatively to the bridal girl, the draconic girl actually sang beautifully and pleasantly, with the only glaring issue being volume. Her blaring voice was hellishly loud, to the point of rupturing eardrums and causing hearing loss. Together, the two ladies sang in a perfect mixture of atrocious pitch and deafening noise; giving them all the best splitting headaches.
""La~La~La~La~La~, Oh yeah~!""
With a final flashy flourish, the two finish the song on a high note, both striking a magnificent pose and breathing heavily. Lively applause sounds from a single person sitting in the very front row, one of the only two people in the audience, a young woman wearing a purple coat who is vigorously clapping, "Yeah! Yeah! Encore! Encore!"
"Thank you! Thank you, my loyal fans! Eli the idol will always be here to sing for you!"
"Umu! How was my heavenly voice? Beautiful, was it not? Bask in the majesty of my performance!"
"No!" Dashing to the row of benches farthest away from the stage, the cowboy Servant falls onto his knees and grasps the shirt of a fallen green-cloaked man who was foaming at the mouth and had only whites for eyes, "Robin! Are you ok?! Stay with me here, don't cross to the other side! Robin!"
"Why are you here?! How are you here?! Aren't you embarrassed showing up so much?!" Gudako incredulously shouts from where she stood towards the stage.
The draconic pinkette blinks in surprise for a moment before glancing at the arrived group and waving happily, "Puppy and Deerlet! Have you come to hear me at my performance?"
Curious, Nero follows the gaze of Elizabeth, "More admirers? How wonderful! They shall help us judge which of our songs are greater!"
Violently shaking the downed form of the cloaked man, Robin begins to awaken, "Huh? Whazzat? What happened? I was…having a terrible nightmare, it was truly horrifying. I don't want to go to sleep anymore." He painfully groans.
"The torture is over. It's over, comrade. You're still sane of mind."
"To think that Empress Nero would be here as well." Mash mutters to herself in shock. The surface of her gigantic shield shimmers with a light sheen as a small furry creature jumps out from it, landing gracefully on the dirt floor, "Ah, Fou is here as well. You waited until we were safe from battle, huh."
"Fou."
"What an adorable little squirrel! You're like a corgi but weirder!" Fou yips in surprise as he suddenly found himself scooped off the ground and into the tight hug of the purple wearing woman. Wyatt jumps in surprise as he stares at the wide smiling woman who practically teleported into their midst. How did she get there so fast?!
"Good, we're all here now." Geronimo says he sees the young boy from the battle earlier enter the area, followed by a shorter young girl of similar hair color who was wearing a scandalous amount of clothing, "Ahem, it's time to start now. There's an important meeting that must be held." He calls out to everyone in the vicinity.
"Fouuu!" Fou desperately struggles and squirms against the iron clutch of his captor to no avail, giving up the effort soon after and resigning himself to his cruel fate.
"The fur is like cotton candy!"
( ( ◉ ) )
"Let's start with introductions." The Native American Servant walks forward and places a hand on his bare chest, "Servant, Caster. My true name is not one you would recognize or understand. " He smiles kindly, "But you may already know me as Geronimo of the Apache."
"I'm William Henry McCarty, Jr. — otherwise call me Billy the Kid!" The now identified blonde man grins, "Oh, and I'm of the Archer class." He elbows the taller man to his right, prompting the individual to speak.
"Archer Servant. Robin Hood." The man with an eye covered by a bang casually says, nonchalant and cool.
"I am the King of Kosala, Rama. My class is Saber." The young orange-haired boy declares with pride. Wrapping his arms around the shorter girl in front of him and embracing her in a warm hug, he declares with even more pride, "This is my beautiful wife Sita, who I dedicate my entire being to!"
The pigtailed petite girl blushes in embarrassment while smiling with joy at the spoken words, "U-Um, I'm Sita, wife of Lord Rama. My class is Archer."
"So lovely! A charming pair indeed!" Nero cries with heartfelt appreciation. Standing tall, the empress does a grand gesture at herself and shouts without hesitation, "Gaze upon the flower of Rome, the great ruler of the perfect empire. Nero Claudius!"
"And I'm the cutesy pop idol beloved by everyone, Eliza—"
"We've met before Your Majesty." Mash bows towards the bridal empress, "Do you remember our time with you in Rome? You've greatly helped us before, we owe you dearly."
"Ah! Don't interrupt me—"
"I see. So we've fought side by side before?" The white empress questioningly tilts her head, "Umu, no wonder I like your faces! Alright, then let us fight gloriously as one once more!" She declares with the grand sweep of an arm.
"Wow…She really is the same Nero as last time." Gudako whispers quietly to her best friend, to which he nods in agreement.
The adolescent male Master turns his gaze to the final person who has yet to introduce herself, but before he can even move an inch, he suddenly finds her standing right in front of him, both her hands tightly clasping one of his. The hazel-skinned woman enthusiastically shakes his hand up and down in a blur, a beaming smile stretching across her features. Now at a much closer view, he could make out more characteristics of the energetic woman.
Aside from the purple coat that she sports, a purple tophat sat on top of wild black hair that cascaded down her neck. Beneath the coat, she wore a white button down shirt with a crazy multi-colored, striped tie. Along with that, she has on regular dark purple jeans and bright light-up sneakers that periodically shifts through the spectrum of colors.
From where he stood, Wyatt intensely stared at her. Specifically at the small, shiny, golden 'W' emblem on the side of her tophat.
"I'm Doctor Isabel Helga Anastasia Parvati Wondertainment V, PhD, MD, DD, OD, PsyD, and EngD." Her mouth moves in the same blur as her hands does, prattling off the entirety of her name without missing a single beat.
"H-Huh? What?" The teen Master blinks in confusion as his mind tries to filter the weird stream of information fed to it. Looking down, he notices that even now she still hasn't let go of his hand, shaking it excessively to the extent of his right arm beginning to feel numb.
Geronimo strolls forward and gently drags Isabel back by the shoulders, letting Gudao jerk back his hand and escape from the woman's iron grasp. Gathering his composure and clearing his throat, the young teen introduces himself, "Uh, hello. I'm Gudao Fujimura, a Master from Chaldea."
"I'm Gudako Ritsuka, this dork's friend and second Master of Chaldea." The other teen says with a bright smile, leaning an arm on the mentioned dork's shoulder.
Mash politely introduces herself and her class, "Mash Kyrielight, Shielder Demi-Servant."
"Nikola Tesla, the gentleman who surpassed the gods of lighting." The Archer Servant states, proudly boasting of himself.
"Wyatt Oid, third Master of Chaldea." He kept his introduction brief and simple.
"F-Foreigner, Van Gogh." The Foreigner girl nervously murmurs, partially hiding behind Wyatt's frame.
"And I'm Romani Archaman, current Acting Director of Chaldea Security Organization." The doctor says as a blue digital screen reappears before them, "This is quite the gathering of names here. Red Demon of the Apache, Outlaw of the Wild West, Champion of the common folk, Hero of Ramayana, Daughter of the earth, Tyrant of Rome, and uh…" Romani trails off as he fails to place the identity of Isabela.
"Doctor Wondertainment, children toymaker, creator of anomalous playthings and products." Wyatt supplies, filling in for the doctor.
"Yes, Yes, that's me!" Isabela grins, a playful smile twisting across her face, "So you know of us? Were you a client of ours? Oh, do I know you?" She eagerly questions, eyes brimming with life staring intensely into his own.
Wyatt stares back, unflinching and equally curious, "No…No, I believe you wouldn't." A momentary lapse of silence ensues as the two inspect each other.
"Um, anyway." Romani breaks the silence to address the main topic, "Our purpose here is to fix this era and return history to its proper course. If possible, we'd appreciate some information on what's occurring in this era."
"I see, you're people from outside of this world who came to fix it." Robin accurately concludes. He turns to address Apache shaman, "These are the 'stars' we've been waiting for, Old Man Geronimo?" To which he receives an affirmative nod in response.
"Stars?"
"Geronimo here has been going on about some star saviors and whatnot that would finally help us to beat them armies once and for all." Billy pipes up, "Apparently they would show up soon, so we've been rounding up a couple of us and going out looking every so often. And…well here you are."
"The stars simply began to move, it was only a matter of time until help would come." The Caster reasons like it's the only logical thought, "That said, finding where you may arrive at was the difficult part. We only managed to find you this soon because of the help of Isabel."
The eccentric woman, now holding a dismayed Fou once again, shrugs her shoulders, "It was nothing really. I just listened to the silly voices in my head, that's all."
"Uh." Not sure what to make of that statement, Gudao moves on to more important matters, "If it's alright, may we ask some questions? If we're to help, then we'd like to understand the situation."
"Yeah, like what's the deal with all the tin men and medieval people?" Gudako asks curiously, "I'm not great with history, but I'm preeetttyyy sure that they're not naturally part of America's ecosystem."
"They are the byproducts of war. A terrible and ongoing war between the two sides trying to seize the United States for themselves." Geronimo grimly states, "Currently you're standing in a resistance base. We're all members of a rebel group fighting back against the invaders from the east, the pillagers who seek to slaughter everyone in their way — The Celts."
"Celtic warriors? What would they be doing here? Could it be…?" Gudao quietly wonders to himself.
Nero scoffs, "Mindless brutes drunk on bloodlust and power. They're nothing but bulging muscles that strike before thought. And worst of all, they can't appreciate beauty!" The tyrant angrily complains, "To interrupt the important contest between Elizabeth and I, how dare they step between our rivalry!"
"Pointless competitions aside, there's no doubt that they're an insane force to reckon with. Their armies completely eclipse our small band of fighters in both numbers and power. The Servants on their side are top notch warriors born for battle. Conquest and combat runs through their blood by nature." Robin informs the Chaldeans, "And that's not even mentioning their king."
"Their king?" Mash repeats in confusion.
A frown settles onto Rama's face, "A warrior of unbelievable might, the battlefield stains red with running blood and piles with punctured corpses whenever he takes action. I've not seen anybody like him before in all my years. Uncaring for life and a force of immovable evil, even I struggle to fight against that monster. The Mad King who rules over the legions of Celts…" There was a small pause before the words left the Indian hero's mouth, as if simply saying the name was a bad omen.
"Cú Chulainn."
"What?!" Gudako shouts in disbelief as the uttered name settles in her mind, "Ireland's Child of Light, hero of the Ulster Cycle, man in blue spandex, that Cú Chulainn?!"
"I-It couldn't be! Mister Cu is a hero! He's saved our lives before and still aids us now in Chaldea!" Mash adds in, not believing that the heroic man she knew could be the subject of description.
"Toss away any notions you may have of him." Geronimo sternly advises, "Whatever hero of Ireland you may know does not exist here. The Child of Light is no more, replaced by a ruthless king of slaughter and conquest. Hesitation or doubt will spell your end, and that monster will certainly not wait for you to overcome it."
"Then, it's fairly reasonable to say that the additions of these Celts must be because of the Holy Grail. Somewhere amongst their army, one of them must be in possession of it." Wyatt says, proposing the idea.
"That's very plausible. It could certainly explain the Irish hero's change in morals. Perhaps it's similar to what happened in Fuyuki?" Romani muses out loud, sharing his thoughts, "So if we locate and recover this grail, then everything can be fixed — huh? That's strange. There's two grail signatures? Is the program on the fritz again?
"A Holy Grail would certainly explain how those Celts manage to keep pumping out their endless army of brawny idiots." Robin grumbles, "But if that's true, then your machine isn't acting up. There is a second Holy Grail, and it's in what would be modern day Jefferson City."
Surprise flits across Mash's face, "Huh? A natural grail? But that's strange. There's been no records of a Holy Grail sighting nor reports on any Holy Grail Wars ever taking place in the United States."
"That's because it ain't natural." Crossing his arms behind his head, Billy explains, "It just sorta…appeared one day and dumped a bunch of information into all of our heads." Pointing a finger at his temple, he continues, "Said some strange things about desire and whatnot, but the important information is that we had to meet certain requirements to obtain it."
"Requirements?" Gudao uncertainty repeats.
Isabela answers his silent question, "It wants the souls of seven Heroic Spirits, or y'know, our spiritual cores. Kinda like a vampiric alter, if they sucked souls instead of blood. Maybe more of a demonic alter?" A thoughtful expression makes it onto her face as she contemplates the nature of soul absorption.
Picking up where she left off, Geronimo continues the explanation, "There's a spatial distortion around the area that holds the grail. Anyone attempting to approach it will find themselves redirected and no closer than when they had begun, making it impossible to force your way through. But we learned through our intelligence that with every Servant killed in the proximity of the area, the amount of distorted space lessens. The distortion used to cover miles and miles of land, but after six sacrifices, the effect now only surrounds the platform holding the grail by a few feet."
Raising his hand with a question, Wyatt asks, "If the Celtic king and his army is as powerful as you say they are, then what's currently stopping them from marching in and taking the grail for themselves? No offense, but are you really what's stopping him from seizing the United States?"
Geronimo smiles, "You're very observant." He praises Wyatt, "You're right, we ourselves can't stand up to the Mad King and his Servants. No, that would be the other side of this war. Those who repel the Celtic armies away from Jefferson City, away from the grail, those who also oppose the rule of the Warrior King."
"The creator of Babbages." A serious Gudako says, now deeply interested.
"To the south of this encampment, there lies a fortress city sheltering the majority of those who escaped the initial massacre. All mechanized automatons march from the city, mass produced by the President ruling over the population and led by a handful of Servant commanders. Beyond that, we don't know much of their identities." Geronimo admits, "Our efforts are focused on the Celtic army and we only catch glimpses of the Servants leaving the fortress. The President is a recluse that rarely makes any appearances and information gathering is difficult due to their impressive defense."
"A President…" Tesla mutters, pondering on the implications of the title, "Strange. If there exist others who share a common objective aligning with yours, then wouldn't it be prudent to ally with them against the mighty foe?" He suspiciously asks, pointing out the fallacy of the situation.
But Geronimo just sadly shook his head in response, "They may wish for the same goal as we do…but their methods are just something we can't agree with." He gestures to the camp around them, "The soldiers here are those who fled from the President's army, seeking refuge from the oppressive ways of their leader. Forced to labor under his watchful gaze, they were granted no reprieve and no rest, working until the brink of death."
"I'm afraid that we may actually have to negotiate with this 'President' of theirs." Romani points out, "The presence of this second grail along with the one owned by the Celts complicates matters. We're now uncertain of which grail may be Solomon's fake and which one is natural, but either way, we have to confiscate the first one from falling into unsavory hands and recover the second one from the Celtic invaders. And I'm afraid that making an enemy of both armies may be beyond us."
"Would they really hear us out?" Gudako questioningly asks, "I mean, we were attacked by their robots as soon as we arrived." She reminds them.
"I think they'll be willing to listen to us at the very least." Wyatt interjects, "Those automatons aimed to detain us, not to kill us."
"Are we really considering this?" Billy scowls at the idea, "This plan doesn't really sit well with me, y'know? It's like the bad feeling before a storm hits."
"I don't like it either. But ultimately, they're right." Geronimo says with a small frown, "With how things are going right now, we won't be able to hold out against the King's endless army for long. It'll be only a matter of time before the rest of the country is overwhelmed by Celts." Slipping a knife out from beneath the folds of his buckskin cloak, he runs a thumb over the edge of the blade, deep in thought, "Sometimes, when faced with a problem…You just have to cut it off at the head."
Facing the Chaldean group with a determined look, the Apache Servant speaks firmly, "We'll aid you with all we can. Tomorrow, at daybreak, I'll guide you to the fortress of the western army." He glances back to the members of the resistance, "Robin and Isabel, the two of you will be coming with us."
Robin calmly shrugs in response and Isabel happily squeezes the distressed Fou trapped in her embrace.
"You got it, Old Man Geronimo."
"Ooh, a field trip? Sure thing!"
Geronimo smiles, "Thank you. And to the rest of you, there's reports of enemy movement in certain areas, we'll need to mobilize soon to deal with them." Turning back to the Masters, he suggests, "Rest well for the night and prepare yourselves for the forthcoming day."
"Hopefully, the Sun will smile down on our departure."
Autumnal colors sweep across the infinite ocean of the sky as the tired Sun turns in for the night. The aflame ball of light dips into the horizon, casting the tint of a warm orange glow over all things existing in its sight.
Gogh dutifully watches as her beloved gradually sinks beneath the surface, busily capturing the serene image into the depths of her mind and permanently onto a memoria for her sight. Sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree with an open sketchbook in her lap; the Foreigner drew away at the page, intent on perfectly recording the breath-taking sight before her.
When the meeting was over, she had wandered off into the camp, seeking inspiration but only finding disappointment. She walked and walked, past the files of fatigued men, past the sea of battleworn faces, and past the occasional scene of a broken man sobbing away his regrets.
She was tired of such delightful sights.
To the edges of the camp she found herself, memorized by the gaze of the one who once rejected her.
'Her? Him? Gogh? Not Gogh. Them?'
A small frown mars her delicate face.
She had automatically begun her work, found the best perspective — the perfect view — and settled down. Coloring pencil in hand, another one held by her mouth, and the rest neatly tucked away in a pouch laying beside her, she drew away in total concentration.
'Gogh. Gogh Gogh. I'm Gogh.'
Her crazed smile returns.
From beautiful dusk to the darkening of the night, until the dimming Sun made way for the luminous Moon, she completed her drawing in peaceful silence, the only sounds being the distant chattering of sleepless soldiers and the ambient noise of the natural nightlife.
Gogh turns her wishful gaze to the glittering stars above, a sea of distant suns burning incandescently, all of them outside of her reach. The Masters must've been asleep by now, happily dreaming away their worries or perhaps despairing over a hopeless nightmare. Everyone had gone their own way after the gathering, the three teens thanking the Caster Servant for his hospitality and having gone to set up tents for the night, the loud inventor went to speak with the other Servants, and her Master sought to speak with that obnoxious 'Wondertainment' girl.
Her Master was a strange person, this she could freely admit. An enigma. That word best describes the person that is Wyatt Oid. A mishmash of half-truths and white lies lying behind the veil of a cleverly cloaked smile. Kind, but deceptively friendly. Caring, but carefully cautious. Gogh was enamored with the pentimento painting that is her Master, a canvas of wary strokes carefully painted over one another, burying what lies deep beneath under countless layers.
Fascinating…
Ah, but he left her to speak with that eccentric weirdo. Captivated by the wiles of some harlot in passing. Just like before, she was alone once again.
'Again…again, again, again, again, again…No, no, no, where's the Sun?! Where is it?! Why won't he come back?!'
The pencils in her hand and between her teeth shatter as she violently flings the sketchbook onto the dirt floor. Gritting her teeth, she curls into a small ball and desperately clutches the sides of her head. Wretched thoughts and horrible memories fill her mind, throwing her into the throes of insanity. Savagely throwing her head up, her wild eyes frantically scans the endless black skies, yearning for the sight of her precious Sun. Her dearest one, her adored star, forever absent from her life; unattainable and uncaring. So lost in the chaotic spew of madness was the Foreigner, that she couldn't have heard the soft crunching of footsteps approaching.
"Gogh, are you okay?"
Wyatt's voice cuts through her haze of insanity like a hot knife through butter. Startled out of her endless search, Gogh's eyes instead turn to the enigmatic man himself. Her heart stops racing, her vision clears of madness, and the chaotic noise that once racked her mind returns to the deep recesses of her psyche. Gazing at the man who stood before her with despairing relief, she gives him a creepy smile.
"Hehehaha, Master…You're back."
He seemed strangely exhausted, as if a thousand thoughts were burdening him. Sitting down next to his Servant, Wyatt absently gazes upon the blanket of stars as she did earlier, "Yeah. I had a long conversation." He says no more, just silently sitting there and tiredly observing the night sky, his gaze as careful as it always was.
Peaceful silence passes between the two of them, just a Master and a Servant enjoying each other's quiet company. Gogh found the sketchbook that she had thrown earlier near her feet, dirtied and battered. Leaning down to pick it up, she saw that her drawing of the Sun had been smudged and slightly torn, marring the once perfect image. Disappointment fills her heart, but glancing at Wyatt, she finds it less serious than she would have thought it to be.
Inspiration came to her. The man beside her was strange; a box of unopened mysteries, and most importantly, her Master. She tore out the ruined page and flung it to howling winds, carrying it away into the dark of the night. He needed her, a cobbled together monster of unrelenting insanity. She picked out a few new pencils out of the pouch, softly humming a jovial tune to herself. Sunrise can wait, and her dearest will be back once again. Flipping to a new clean page, she began drawing of a silent man calmly gazing at the unreachable stars.
But right now, the night is beautiful.
Author's Notes:
Thank you avid readers for reading this chapter! I'm still surprised I made it this far.
We have introductions of some faces, plus some exposition, with the tiniest sprinkle of development.
Curious of how this Singularity will go? I hope so.
As usual leave reviews of thoughts, comments, spelling errors, or questions.
See you next time!