EMIYA SHIROU
Why are plushies everywhere?
That was the first thing to go through Shirou’s mind. The second was: That bedhead.
Fortunately all that actually came out of his mouth was “Uh…huh?”
Shirou had known that Saber liked lions, but perhaps he underestimated how much. Stuffed animals lined the floor and furniture of her room, the majority of which were lions. In her hands was a massive dragon plushie, whose name she announced as Charles.
Then there was Saber herself, her expression still a bit sleepy as she smiled up at him. Her hair fell messily over her face, something the freelancer couldn’t help but find endearing. It was a stark contrast to her usual serious and dignified yet eager persona.
“Um, yeah, names and…stuff,” Shirou stammered. Wow, how about I never speak again.
Disturbed by their voices, Rin sat up on the bed with a groan, still mostly asleep. Shirou could hardly blame her; none of them had slept for that long. She was probably going to be pissed at him for waking her up. Oh well, too late to back out now.
“Mia ran away, I’m going to go out looking for her. I made breakfast for when you’re hungry.” It was a small breakfast given they had dinner very late.
LANCELOT
The former Knight of the Lake cursed himself – and his godforsaken headmate - for the umpteenth time as he slowly made his way back to Saber’s apartment, unable to gather the will to make himself move faster as he shuffled along the sidewalk, the occasional street lamp or passing headlights all that lit the way home. Dawn was approaching soon, and he hoped Saber wasn’t yet home, or had tried to call him. He had left the phone given to him by his former king in his rush to see what the commotion at the hospital was, and she was likely to berate him for leaving without it. It was a good thing her job often kept her out at late hours.
Scum. You bungled it, again. Disappointed her. Again.
Lancelot trudged along, snow crunching beneath his armored feet. Although his armor materialized over his clothes rather than outright destroying them, the events at the hospital had left his plain clothes utterly ruined, forcing him to stay in armor to preserve his decency. After having come to his senses near the top of a skyscraper that he had somehow smashed into, the dark knight could only vaguely recall what had transpired. What he did know for certain was that he had only aggravated the conflict that had been underway… and Mordred had been there.
Pathetic weakling, you couldn’t even kill her. Hypocrite, you betrayed Arthur first and gave Mordred the chance. Suffer the penalty for your crimes. Suffer the penalty for her crimes.
Lancelot continued watching the ground as he walked on.
Worthless failure.
Shut up.
The berserker’s frown deepened as his fists tightened. This damned thing in his head wasn’t incessantly screeching anymore, but it was still there. Even when it was quiet he could tell it was lurking in the corners of his mind, encroaching on his thoughts. Why wouldn’t it go away?
Die.
Gritting his teeth, Lancelot rounded a corner to be confronted with an unwelcome sight: more battle.
While Arturia’s knight thrived on combat and had made it his sole profession, he had endured more than enough for tonight. He was about to turn away and find a detour when he caught a good look at one of the combatants.
A vampire… no, four vampires, all against one other fighter. The red eyes gave them away. And yet the lone combatant was holding his own. Lancelot’s deep rooted hatred for the bloodsuckers and their ilk began to rise to the surface before he quashed it. It wasn’t his place to interfere here.
Abominations, filth, wrong, desecration!
Stop it.
Unfortunately, his own mind seemed to have other ideas.
Kill them! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!
"No.”
Atone for your penalties, your violence, their crimes, their victims, atone for them all!
“Go... away....”
DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!!!
“FUCK YOU!”
With a roar, Lancelot charged. He bore down on the vampire closest to the one other man, vision tinging red with hatred. He hated this, hated Forest, hated himself, and hated his failure. Sprinting as fast as he could make himself go, the dark knight rapidly closed in on the blond vampire woman. He reached out – and shoved her away with all his might.
He hated the demonic voice most of all. Right now it could go back to hell where it belonged.
“Get out of here!” he screamed at the remaining vampires while grabbing the other man’s spear with one hand, ensuring he wouldn’t take advantage of the opening and attack.
ANATU
Anatu’s cheeks burned with shame and she couldn’t look her protector in the eyes. He had saved her, let her come with him, gave her a place to sleep and eat and in return she had almost destroyed his household. He was regretting taking a lowborn in under him, and was going to have her kicked out, she just knew it.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry,” she said in accented English. It was a phrase the Babylonian frequently heard the citizens of this realm use, seemingly to express repentance and apologies, although she believed it had other uses she hadn’t quite discerned yet. She fervently hoped that it conveyed the intended message.
Suddenly his hand was gently touching the top of her head, and she looked up at him in surprise, her green eyes wide. This man… forgave her? She kept staring as he turned and walked away. A sense of relief coursed through her, but it was muted by a sense of worry and unease. She seemed to be forgiven for now, but she knew someone of his status would not tolerate continued mistakes; he was already being unspeakably generous as it was.
Confused, anxious, and above all exhausted, Anatu made her way over to the bench covered with fluffy squares – cushions, the people here called them – that was to serve as her place to rest. Her long blond hair flowing over the side and down to the carpet, the young girl curled into a ball and fell into a dreamless sleep.
MARK BURRIDGE
“Mother fucker,” Mark muttered to himself. His mark and her new companion were on a leisurely stroll, still chatting. Apparently she was determined to meet a doppelganger fucking up her reputation, and hoping to meet her at the police station.
All things considered, it was going to be quite some time before an opportunity would show up, if one occurred at all. He was reluctant to return to his other business – once her trail was lost regaining it would be almost impossible here in this ridiculous city – but time was of the essence. As much as the thought displeased him, he was going to have to rely on one of his people to do this. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and started dialing.
“Ah, yes?”
“Tell Brian to get his fat ass over to the police station, ASAP. Normal police, not Enforcers.”
“Will do. What will he be doing?”
“He’ll take over for my current job until after the party tonight. I can’t afford to delay the timetable anymore.”
“Okay, if you’re sure… none of us are really skilled at that sort of thing though.”
“Don’t question me. It’s a risk I have to take.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mark pocketed the phone and continued trailing the odd pair at a generous distance. He hated relying on others, but there was only so much even he could do at once.
