towerofanimus | "Love Fool" Player Plot Log

"Love Fool" Player Plot Log

Characters: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne and anyone affected by his curse or who wants to get caught up in the chaos!
Setting: March 29th-April 4th. Anywhere in the tower during the beginning of the event, primarily in and around Room 4-16 later in the event.
Format: Any!
Summary: Instead of being mostly inactive, Diarmuid's curse starts being active most of the time and it's affecting both men and women! Chaos ensues! An OOC plotting and sign up post is here.
Warnings: Death, violence, blood, worms (X.x Kariya...), psychological torture, swearing, shenanigans of a romantic nature, and ANGST! I will update as it is needed!
Notes: Being affected by Diarmuid's curse requires a tag on his permissions post here so please make sure to stop by! If the log gets too big, I will make a second, overflow log and link it here. While most sections have dates on them, they are only references for the time of the week that the events are going on and not when the section is available for posting. All sections are open for posting just as soon as the log goes up and will stay open throughout the event.

Notice: The log is open! Have fun everyone and feel free to contact me if you have any questions!

Background Information:

One of Diarmuid's most defining traits is his curse, actually a gift given to him by a spirit of love, beauty, and youth as repayment for something he did for her. Unfortunately, while something like that might be an actual gift to a fellow spirit or god, giving it to a human doesn't work quite so well. Being a honorable man, though, Diarmuid has never taken advantage of those affected by his curse. Instead, he has done his best to let them down gently and guide them through the pain caused by it. Sometimes this has worked and sometimes it hasn't. In either event, he remembers vividly every person he's ever hurt because of it.

That approach works well until the woman who falls in love with him is his Lord's fiancee and a princess who won't take no for an answer. She places a geis on him that forces him to run away with her. Many things end that night and a great many more begin. At least, that's how the legends go.

In the tower, his curse has been weakened somewhat so that it is only rarely active. However, when it activates and for how long is random, and he doesn't know when it is happening until those affected start acting oddly toward him. Those so affected seem to remain that way for a week or two and often have some success controlling their reactions to him if they have a strong will or know that they are under the curse's spell.

Event Information:

During the event instead of activating only once and a while, Diarmuid's curse will almost constantly be active. It will also affect men and women meaning that almost everyone he runs into in the tower has the chance of being affected. He will not know this right away and will continue going about his normal patrol routes, meetings, and so on until he finally realizes what is going on. Once he does, he will start hiding in his room to limit the number of people affected. However, this won't work out so well because with him staying in one place, anyone who is under the curse's spell and trying to find him isn't going to have to look very hard.

Every day he will be spending at least a little time out of his room so that a character can be hit by the curse whenever they wish to be during the event. Anyone is welcome to have their character affected whether or not they actually have CR already with Diarmuid. This is actually a good time to start up CR if you have wanted to, but not been sure how since he will be checking in with people to make sure they are okay once the effects of the curse have passed. New players are also welcome!

How strongly and how long a character is affected by the curse is totally up to that character's mun. And remember, your character doesn't have to be affected by the curse to participate! Do they want to troll Diarmuid by acting like they are affected when they aren't? Do they want to slip him a gift or thank you but have been too shy to until they have the chance to do it under the guise of something else? Might they just be passing by Room 4-16 and get caught up in a fight? Do they have a friend who is affected and are trying to 'help' them out? Anything is possible and creativity is encouraged!

Below I have set up several locations and times to have things going on, but feel free to start something elsewhere if you wish! Private meetings between characters working together or other similar posts are welcome. Just be sure to mark what is going on. In an effort to try and keep everything to one log, I have made sub-headings for his Mailbox and for Network posts should characters wish to use those things as well to show their feelings. Because people are competing for his attention to the point of fighting in some cases, please be aware that I am encouraging threadjacking and sneaky tricks like stealing gifts out of his mailbox or from his room. If you want to make sure that a thread isn't interrupted by others or a gift stolen, please mark the thread's subject line with the word "Locked." Any thread marked in such a way should only have Diarmuid and the thread starter replying in it unless other arrangements have been made. All other threads are considered open for interruption, but please remember to be polite.

Important Note: To help keep things organized, please make sure to put either "Open" or "Locked" in the subject line of all newly started threads so that people know if it is okay to jump in or not. It is all right if you decide to change the status later in the thread--just adjust the comment title in the next post.

Diarmuid will not respond to threads that aren't marked until they are marked, and I would ask others not to either since once replied to, comments can't be edited. Once the thread is marked, it is fair game to be replied to.

During the end of the event players will find it harder to get into Diarmuid's room because the way will be blocked. Master Kariya Matou (

vermicompost ) will have ordered his Servant Berserker (

chevalier_mal_fet ) to guard the door. Far from what it looks like on the outside, both men aren't trying to help protect their friend from those affected. Instead, they have also been affected and are tying to keep away all other potential suitors! Can anyone say Boss Fight? Will those affected team up to take them down or maybe just sit back and let them take out a few rivals to thin the competition? It's all up to you guys and how nuts you want to get!

Important Note: When tagging the 'Boss Fight' section, in addition to marking your post "locked" or "open" in the subject line, please also state if your character is meeting Lancelot in his true form--which will mean having to deal with him in some way so your character can get through to the room--or in Diarmuid's form--which will mean he will greet your character and act like Diarmuid in an attempt to lead your character away from the room. Your character is free to be fooled or see through his deception as the thread progresses. Just be aware that Lancelot's mimic ability is high level and will take either knowing Diarmuid and his quirks well or having a lot of magical knowledge to see through.

Finally, while the tone for the event is mostly fun and humorous, if you want there can be more serious consequences. If any character is involved in a serious incident or dies because of something related to the event, please make sure you put a comment in this section with your character's name, journal, a quick blurb about what happened and, most importantly, if you want Diarmuid to know what happened. Obviously, because of his nature, he is going to want to contact anyone who is seriously impacted by or killed because of his curse.

That's it! Go forth and cause chaos! If there are questions or problems at any time, please feel free to contact me via pm though Diarmuid's journal (

oathshackledbird ) or on Plurk at

NekoSandy

IC Event Introducton:

The day starts off like any other for Diarmuid and for that he is glad. After all that had happened at the end of the month in February, quiet and routine days are something he is not going to argue against. Besides, with so many people who are from some version of the world he knows having arrived this month, he would really like them to have a chance to settle in before things get too chaotic again. There are those he would also like to spend as much time with as possible before anything else happens. So many people, himself included, need as much time as they can get to just sort out the things going on in their heads.

The problem is, will the tower give that time to them? Diarmuid knows each quiet day is one more step forward so that they can all be prepared for whatever the administrators throw at them next.

A small smile crosses his face as he takes off to make his first patrol of the tower. After that, he will probably have something to eat at the cafeteria, before taking some time to visit friends. Sometime before nightfall, he will make another patrol of the floors before retiring to his room for the night. It's a simple day and considering how quickly things can go bad in the tower when things get too complex, he's not bothered at all by that simplicity.

It's just a shame that he doesn't realize, as he leaves his room, that things won't stay simple for long. Not with his curse suddenly becoming active in a way it never has before...

Section Links:

Diarmuid's Mailbox #0091
Network Posts
Diarmuid's Room (4-16) on Mar 29th-Mar 31st
Outside of Diarmuid's room on Mar 29th-Mar 31st
Anywhere in the Tower on Mar 29th-Mar 31st
Diarmuid's Room (4-16) on April 1st-April 4th
Outside of Diarmuid's room on April 1st-4th
Anywhere in the Tower on April 1st-4th
Boss Encounter with Berserker on April 3rd-April 4th
Serious Incident/Death List

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Master!

[The momentary shock of Diarmuid's outburst is nothing to the sight of his Master, white and swaying where he kneels on the floor, vomiting blood, surrounded by the bodies of his cruel familiars.

So much blood already, and he can feel his Master's pain and wrath rising in the bond they share. Whatever else, Kariya Matou may or may not be, he is Lancelot's Master-- and Lancelot will act on his behalf.

He lets Waver Velvet's body fall from his arms to the floor, bending to lift his Master to his feet, supporting his slight weight easily. He feels a kind of cold fury at the state of his Master, at the state of himself-- at Diarmuid's words, and at the man himself, sat weeping in a pool of his Master's rapidly cooling blood.

He lifts Kariya easily to his chest, supporting the man at his shoulders and beneath his knees.
Yes, it is a cold fury, not the hot wrath that consumes him betimes. His words are always mastered by that anger, taken from him. Now they come all too easily.]

Your wish those who never cease to Suffer to remember your agony, as well as their own?

I will grant that it is your pain speaks for you now, Diarmuid ua Duibhne, for if I did not, I would find your words hard bear honorably.

[There is pain of his own as he says these words-- for lately he has felt so drawn to the man, so well-disposed and fondly loving. But it is his Master he thinks of now.]

Curse me if you like, if it eases you. But leave my Master in Peace.
Your Master will return from Death tomorrow. Mine dies every day, with every minute that passes. But perhaps his suffering lacks Beauty that would give it Meaning, in your eyes.

[Lancelot smiles, and it is a grim and joyless thing.]

Lay any curse you like upon us. There is no black name you may give either of us that we do not already bear, nor nothing you might wish stripped from either of us that has not already been taken-- or that we have not already squandered.

Know that when you curse us, you curse the damned.

[He holds his Master close, pressing the man's wounds tightly with his arms, his hands, his chest. He is aware of the his Master's slowing heartbeat. Soon now, he knows he must seek a healer. He will not allow his Master to die.]

[There are things going on around him. Movement. Yelling. Screaming. But every time Diarmuid tries to focus on anything enough to figure out what it is, that thing is caught up in the swirling of emotions in his mind and lost. The yelling and screaming disappear into the screaming of his own pain, shame, and agony. The movement disappears into the bubbling, twisting vortex of blood and darkness that fills his mind.

The end will come soon, right? Just as it had back then? The swirling pain and agony will soon fade into the nothingness of death.]

No.

[As much as it may feel like it, he is not dying. Not this time. Does that mean there will be no escape? That this will never end?]

No!

[And suddenly something finally breaks through all the pain and agony swirling through him.

The need to run.

He has to escape. He has to find a way to get away from all of this before he drowns. Before he suffocates.

Someone is holding him. That much manages to make its way into his mind. He has to break free of them no matter what.

And then he can run. And then he can escape.

The struggling is sudden and silent, as he bolts forward desperate to make it away from whoever is holding him and into the hallways. Diarmuid doesn't care where he ends up.

He just has to get away from here.]

[Cu Chulainn's mind is almost complete blank as Lancelot talks, but at the end, he can hear the words.]

[If only because they cut into him as hard as Diarmuid's had.]

...Not the only one.

[He mutters, in a strange, cracking voice that doesn't even seem to come out of his own mouth.]

You're not the only one.

[Who is he talking to? Lancelot? Diarmuid? Who is he talking about? Lancelot, Diarmuid, Kariya, or himself?]

[All of them are dying inside and all of them are damned.]

[If Diarmuid's words had frozen his blood in his veins, then this anger stirring within him is heating it up again.]

So you've got no right to tell anyone what to do!

[And that's when he notices his brother stirring. It's like someone flips a switch in his brain. He has to be by Diarmuid's side. To protect him better than he had before. So that his promises will no longer be empty.]

Brother...

[The harder Diarmuid struggles, the harder Cu Chulainn holds him. He would be his brother's support, his brother's shield.]

[Diarmuid would never have to alone again.]

[No, rather than that, Cu Chulainn doesn't want to be alone to drown in his failures.]

I-I'll do better now, Brother!

[Go where you want to go, do what you want to do, be anything you want...This time I'll keep my promise so just don't leave me...]

[Kariya is breathing heavily, but mercifully there's no more retching, no more upheaval of blood.

He listens to what Lancelot says, and then Diarmuid and Lancer. He feels so drained, and the winged worms buzz around him, one landing on his shoulder. It still takes prana to support them, drains his energy, but there they remain, like a manifestation of his anger. Blood leaks slowly but steadily from his eyes and the corners of his mouth. It sticks in his hair and slides down his neck, soaking his collar.]

You--

[He says the word again, though there's less fury in his voice this time; much of it has drained out of him along with his blood.]

I love you.

[Even if he's angry, he hasn't stopped loving Diarmuid.

His gaze flickers to Diarmuid, who isn't even watching him now. In spite of his anger, he wants to help, but there's nothing he can do for Diarmuid when he can hardly move. He lies still in Lancelot's arms. Why does it never matter, the way that he feels? Why do people want to negate his feelings, to act like they aren't real? It's happened to him all his life, ever since he was a child, and few things can infuriate him more. It isn't fair. Why won't it stop happening? At least he has Lancelot. His Servant, speaking for him and helping him...

Kariya isn't weak. He has power.]

[Lancelot knows a great deal about Madness. It seems odd that he and his admittedly weakened and bewitched Master seem to be chief among the sane at the moment.

It has become difficult to discern who is speaking to whom, though his Master's words are obviously meant for Diarmuid. Who can say if they reach him, though, as the man seems to have taken leave of his senses completely.

Lancelot watches as the two Lancers struggle on the blood-slicked floor. They are beyond his help. He must look to his Master, who is failing less rapidly, but failing all the same.]

Master, we should go now-- you are in need of a healer.

[Normally, he would simply do as he thinks best. But he fears that should he leave abruptly, his Master might become agitated once more.]

[He can't get away. No matter how hard Diarmuid tries to get away, he can't. Whoever is holding him back is just too strong.

Either too strong, or Diarmuid himself is just too weak. It's a distinct possibility.

A strangled whimper slips from his mouth as he struggles for a moment longer before falling limp and still. He just wants to get away to someplace safe. Someplace where the pain will stop. Where he won't feel so smothered. So trapped...]

"Brother..."

"I love you."

[Those words somehow manage to make their way into his mind, but their trips through the madness of his emotions strip away enough of the voices attached to them that he can't tell who is saying what.

He just hears what he wants to hear.]

Brother, I love you.

[Is it possible that after all this his brother has changed his mind? That he does love him?

Wild eyes search those around him, finally settling on the blue haired figure beside him.]

Brother...

[It's all he sees. All he cares to see. His brother. His hero will make everything all right just like he always has.

A blood-stained, trembling hand reaches out and wraps itself around Cu Chulainn's arm. In a quick and sudden motion, he stands and drags his brother, not toward the hallway, but toward their room.

It's doubtful he even realizes that Lancelot and Kariya are still there. The only thing that matters right now is the man who he loves so very much.

He will save him. He will lead him away from the pain. He will.]

[Cu Chulainn barely resists as he's dragged into the room. After all, if it's Diarmuid dragging him, then it's alright. It means he gets to be with his brother.]

Yes?

[He stares at Diarmuid with his wide, wild eyes, waiting for his brother to make a request.]

[Diarmuid doesn't let go of his brother's arm as he shuts the door to their room. Honestly, if he could, he would push something against the door to barricade it, but aside from their beds and the trunks there is really little in the room that will work. Instead, he just presses his back against the door, looking at his brother for a long moment before trying to speak--to explain.

The words won't come. His mind is still too chaotic and confused. In the end, he settles for actions, drawing his brother toward their beds.

They have found so much comfort there before. Why not now? And maybe some sleep will clear his mind enough he can say what it is he really wants to say.]

[The bed? Ah, of course. His brother was tired. Why wouldn't he have been tired given all that he had suffered in the past days? And Cu Chulainn had been too stupid to come back and watch over him.]

[He still doesn't resist. If anything, he walks even quicker than his brother toward their bed.]

[Diarmuid is glad that his brother seems to understand what he wants without requiring words. He might seem like he's calming down a little, but his calm is razor thin and fragile. Any little thing might send it shattering into a million jagged fragments.

And who knows if Diarmuid would be able to calm himself again?

He sits on the bed and holds his arms out to his brother. It's a childish gesture, but it's a start. Gather the child level of mental thought first and then the adult will follow.

Hopefully.]

[Lancer points at his face and gently mouths the word "Me?"]

[To be honest, he's a little surprised. And touched. To know that Diarmuid would still accept and desire his love, empty as it was.]

[Slowly, gently, he wraps his arms around Diarmuid, hoping that he won't be pushed away.]

[If Diarmuid was being childish, then Cu Chulainn's mind had regressed to an outright infantile state.]

[Diarmuid nods and wraps his arms tightly around his brother once he moves close. He doesn't seem to realize his brother is acting oddly. He hardly even remembers the ugly hurtful words that had spilled from his mouth not that long ago.

He is just happy to have his brother there with him. His brother fixes everything after all. He keeps him safe.]

Lets rest.

[Calling those words loud enough to be a whisper would be generous, but even if Cu Chulainn cannot hear what he has said, Diarmuid's shifting of them back further on the bed should make his intentions clear enough.]

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[ Cecil was on the third floor of the dormitories when she heard the screams. At first, she thought it was the administrators— that they'd released monsters into the dormitories and her fellow refugees were panicking. Taking up the Mythgraven Blade, she went to the stairs while others were rushing from them. When no one seemed hurt, she stopped a girl to ask what was going on and the girl informed her that someone on the fourth floor had been killed outside room sixteen— Lancer's and Diarmuid's room.

Sword in hand and expecting the worst, the white knight still wasn't prepared for the carnage that awaited her and she is horrified to lay eyes on it.

What she isn't surprised to see, however, is who seems to be responsible for the bloodshed: ]

Lancelot!

[ Cecil strides forward with her sword raised, ready to fight if she must, but praying she won't have to. ]

What have you done now?!

Edited (Just so we're clear they're acquainted... x:) 2013-04-12 07:15 (UTC)

[Lying in Lancelot's arms, Kariya feels calmer, but there are still blood and tears in his eyes.

He doesn't recognize the woman who approaches Lancelot. He realizes how this must look. Waver is dead, lying on the ground, and the floor is covered in blood. Almost all of the blood is his own, as Waver's death was bloodless, but a newcomer might not realize that fact.

Kariya feels sick, both physically and mentally. Diarmuid cursed him. Diarmuid is gone. He misses him already, in spite of everything. But he isn't about to disavow responsibility for what happened. If anything, he blames himself a little too much.

He coughs before speaking. The sound is wet, but he mercifully doesn't cough up any more blood, though it continues to seep from the wounds in his face. A long-bodied, wasplike worm settles on his pale hair. He meets the unfamiliar woman's gaze.]

It's my fault. He was following my orders. So--I'll take the blame.

[His voice is little more than a croak.]

[Lancelot himself is looking a little the worse for wear. His Master's blood is soaking into his suit and shirt front, it stains his hands, finds its way into the hair that has straggled out of its fastening.
Odd to think that Waver Velvet's death had left no stain on him at all.

As Cecil strides toward him, he makes no move. He can well imagine how the tableau before her must appear. But what she thinks he will do, with his Master in this condition, he has no idea. As he is about to answer her, his Master speaks-- which is unexpected. He sounds not far from death to Lancelot's ears. This, he will not allow.]

Master, calm yourself.

Lady, I cannot tarry here, for my Master is dying. But know that this is indeed my doing, as I was set to guard the door and was challenged by this Magus. I did not seek his life, but I took it all the same, as you see. No one else has taken injury save my Master, who became agitated some time after.

The Lancers, you will find safe in their room.

[He does not wish to speak of Diarmuid's Curses. His Master is poorly enough as it is.]

[ Cecil is torn between her anger and her concern, as while it's obvious that Lancelot's master is indeed near death, the revelation that he was the one who ordered Lancelot to interfere in what obviously has finally resulted in a disaster, angers her greatly. Disturbingly, she hesitates — albeit, briefly — before sheathing her sword and moving to Lancelot's side. She forces herself not to glance towards the door, even as worried as she is for Diarmuid and Lancer. She fights her feelings because she senses that even if they were to answer, there's nothing she could do for either of them except bring about more chaos, likely. ]

Hold him still. I will do my best to help him.

[ The paladin lays a hand on the shoulder of the servant's master and closes her eyes, concentrating, praying. She brings her free hand up in a fist and warmth and light gather in her closed hand. When she feels the magic truly materialize, she opens her eyes and her fist, raising her hand over the sickly man, letting the spell flow over him in a wave of bright violet hues. It's an Esuna spell to soothe the pain, stop the bleeding, and cure whatever illness it is he suffers from. She has no idea if it will work, considering they are not from the same world. Even if she knew exactly what ailed him, she could never guarantee his return to health. ]

[He'd only asked Lancelot to guard the door so Diarmuid could have some peace. And yes, maybe he'd wanted to have Diarmuid to himself, but it was only so he could talk to him. He hadn't been doing anything wrong or asked Lancelot to harm anyone. But now that things had all turned out so terribly, he had to take the blame.]

You don't have to--

[Even though he's badly in need of healing, Kariya doesn't know if he deserves it, now. But he breaks off as Cecil's magic starts to work. It's different than Raphael and Ishtar's healing. The spell washes over him.

It does heal him. He can feel his flesh knitting, but at the same time, he can feel the worms react. The spell is hurting them, threatening them, and they don't like it. They bite into him. He convulses, spitting up another mouthful of blood. The magic helps and hurts him at the same time. He's not sure which is winning out. But at least the wounds in his side and on his face are gone.]

Ah--

Master, enough.

[Lancelot's voice is low as Cecil works her healing upon his Master. He is grateful, an unfamiliar emotion to say the least. But every emotion seems extreme when one truly feels so seldom.
His Master's body relaxes in his arms-- for a moment.
Then, another cry, another flow of blood-- and he can feel the surge of Prana from his Master.
He looks to Cecil with alarm.]

The Worms. My Master's-- familiars. They live within him, feed from him, and they are agitated now. Is there another Spell of Healing that might alarm them less?

[ Cecil's alarm mirrors that on Lancelot's face and she actually fears for the man, feels guilt for bringing him more pain. He isn't the first person from another world that she has healed here in the Tower, but he is the first she's ever seen react to her magic like this. ]

I-I'm sorry.

[ She tenses her jaw and swallows hard, resolving to try again lest the Master's condition worsens because of her. She casts again, but this time, she uses only a Cura spell, the glow of light in her fist green instead of purple. ]

The... Esuna spell was trying to remove them from your body. I apologize— I did not know. This will only heal your injuries— broken bones, lacerations, bruises... It shouldn't aggravate your... familiars.

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[Kariya doesn't approach unawares: his Worms have long since detected the scent of violence and the sound of pain, now garnished with blood in a scent both sickeningly familiar and strange. He's prepared for a great number of things, even if the worst seems to have passed.

Then the screaming starts.

He's still too far and the crowd too agitated down the hall for him to make out what exactly is going on. There's apprehension, but to tell the truth the silence had been more alarming.

Then he makes out the words. The tone. The familiarity of the voice beneath the hideous strain of fury.

... you who swears to loyally protect that which he loves, but knows only how to betray and break all that comes to his hands.

He stumbles.

Nearly doesn't hear it--

And I curse you who speaks of love when he knows nothing but blind obsession. He who is too weak to truly ever know real emotion.

And for a moment, he can't move at all. It doesn't matter who the words are directed towards; what reaches into the deep, bruised parts of him is their tone, their speaker. So familiar, that tone of condemnation. If he closes his eyes, he can call up the expression that must surely accompany them. This, too, is a lie.

He opens his eyes, and realizes he's arrived. Somehow, the fact that the hallway looks like a murder montage fails to have the same impact. He watches dispassionately as his funhouse mirror image chokes something out, along with his Worms. He could probably guess. He could probably be angry, too, but he simply watches.]

... Lancelot. [His voice is very soft, where the knight passes him in the end.] A moment.

[Kariya feels better somehow, held and supported by Lancelot. He hadn't thought he would. But his Servant, at least, is loyal to him, when no one else is. He feels a certain grim satisfaction in this, even if his orders to Lancelot were a part of what had led to the current situation. He'd only wanted to help.

It isn't true that he's weak, that he can't feel. He knows his feelings are real. He won't believe that. (Maybe a part of him fears it's true, but he drowns that part out.) What hurts most is who said it, and how.

He doesn't notice himself--his other self--at first, but his gaze flickers to him when he speaks. He knows his other self doesn't like him. That fact still chafes, and the sting feels sharper now, after what's happened. He can still hear Diarmuid's words, echoing in his ears.

His other self addresses Lancelot and not him, but he won't be ignored.]

What do you want?

[The words don't sound harsh at all. Maybe they would have, but he's drained, and they're barely a whisper in his ruined throat. But he's still in control. He's the Master. The worms flying around his head settle on him, and on Lancelot's shoulders.]

[The eyes Lancelot turns on his Second Master, for so he has come to think of the man, are black pits, though they are not empty. Something lies in their depths.

His shirt front and the ends of his hair are dark, wet with his Master's blood.
As the worms settle on his shoulders, he glances down into Kariya's face.]

Master, you need not speak.

[Lancelot looks back up into the face of his Master, though this one on his feet.]
I must find a healer-- Kariya Matou. I can willingly give to you a moment, but I cannot stay.

[He, too, is subdued, though obviously not for the same reasons. It's with an odd lack of rancor that he says, to himself--]

I want you to put those away.

[He doesn't flinch from the blood, or the look Lancelot directs his way. He's held the gaze of Berserker himself, if briefly; after that, and after what's just happened, there's probably very little that could move him now.

To their knight, he says:]

He won't die. I need you to hold him still.

[With no further preamble, he places his hands on the unrecognizably thin chest outlined in blood, and reaches numbly for his magic.

It's possibly the oddest instance of spiritual healing he's ever attempted. It's little more than forcing prana into the wounds, an emergency patch, and he doesn't bother to make any pretense at finesse. It's just that much easier because their prana is -- well, their prana. The Worms won't react as much to something so familiar, and if they do he's certain he can at least force them back to manageable levels.

A little agitation is good for them, anyway. It alerts them to the fact that they might want to fix up some of the holes they've made in their host before he bleeds out.]

Edited 2013-04-16 07:16 (UTC)

I can't.

[He says this almost defiantly. Yeah, that's right, he can't put them away right now. What are you going to do about his failure at magecraft? He's too weak to put them away yet too weak to handle them, so they're just there, draining him, accidents of too much emotion.]

I don't need--

[He doesn't need to be held still. He might even be protesting the healing itself, even though he's so clearly in need of it. He's not sure, himself. It's hard to think clearly in his current state. Before he can finish his statement, the other Kariya is already using his magecraft, and there's nothing he can do about it. He grits his teeth to bite off a cry, and it dwindles into a sharp hiss. It hurts, a lot, if maybe not as much as the damage hurt in the first place. But he can take the pain. His fists clench, and his eyes close, then open again, but he hardly moves in Lancelot's arms.]

I shall. [Is all the answer he gives to the Magus.]

[He firms his arms about his Master, in case the man should writhe about during the Healing-- but there is no need. His Master is still as his Other Self pours Prana into him. Lancelot can feel it himself, the overflow of it washing into the Bond. He can feel his Master's pain as well, but the man bears it without complaint.

Kariya Matou is indeed Weak in some ways, but not in Endurance or Will. Lancelot feels a grim sort of Pride in his odd Master.]

[He looks up into the face of the Other who bears his Master's name, feeling more hopeful and refreshed with the man's Prana.]
When you have done, I can kill them, if you prefer-- the Flying Worms.

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canofworms - 2013-04-17 18:23 (UTC) - Expand

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