Shakespeare
"Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth, That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument all bare is of more worth Than when it hath my added praise beside! O! blame me not, if I no more can write!" Sorrow filled my voice, pride harmed by the beauties words, and my Masters lack of knowledge of my artistry. Truly, there was no more horrible situation. My ring showed my melancholy as I reached within my jacket, producing a well made tome, illustrated with a rather flattering bust of myself in my elder years. "Here, take mine words for your knowledge. I must not dwell on the great sadness your ignorance has caused me Master, for such things are fleeting like the mayflies."
With another flourish I produced a smaller tome of mine out of my sleeve, giving it to the fair Assassin. "Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there, And made my self a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, but fair lady, I have and wish nothing but the best for you." As I pressed the binding into her palm , I spoke in a voice low enough for only her flushed ears to hear. "Silence does not fit thy fair lips well. Use my lines within on the Master, sweet lady. The words of the Bard work their own magic, Queen of the Gardens."
Shirou had an apologetic look on his face as Caster forced a rather illustrious book into his hands.
"I guess I can read this at a later point in time", hiding away the tome in one of his larger pockets on his Church uniform. Unfortunately, it still poked just barely, the well-worn leather-bound book sticking out against his black uniform like a sore thumb, "Thank you Caster."
"W-WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!?!", exclaimed Assassin loudly, drawing the eyes of both Shirou and Caster to her.
She had begun reading the book no larger than a hand, and a tint of red, both out of embarrassment and anger, clad her cheeks.
"Why in the name of every god there is would I need a collection of your awful poetry, moreover about love, and most of all, WHY WOULD I SHARE THIS DRIVEL WITH MASTER?! I know how to bed a man, damn it!", she raged, almost applying a heavy amount of trauma to the poet's face then and there before she noticed her Master's reaction.
Shirou couldn't hold in his laughter at the display. Here was Assassin, the first Black Widow and the seducer of man, flailing like a teenager with a crush over being called out on said crush. Shirou doubted she'd ever need such a thing. If she wanted a man, she would have to do little to gain that man's affections, he reasoned.
Slowly regaining his composure, having almost keeled over in laughter, Shirou spoke once more.
"Why not keep it, Assassin? At the very least, if it's "awful", you could use it as a standard of what not to do", his rather snarky remark drawing on another chuckle from himself and caused her cheeks to redden further.
"You're not helping, Master..."
"...Snow?"
Caules was thoroughly confused. When he and the Knight first started the morning, the weather had been like that of the early autumn, the temperature steady with the occasional cold blast of wind. But now it was snowing of all things? He could feel the temperature steadily drop, and he began to feel cold.
"Well that's just a tad out of season, I'd say. I guess our choice of breakfast should be something warm, huh?", asking the Knight. That armor must get quite cold in these temperatures, he reasoned.
