towerofanimus | [open] // it gives meaning to each moment

Entry tags:

[open] // it gives meaning to each moment

Characters: Waver and open
Setting: Floor 3
Format: Either
Summary: Some people get depressed, others get angry.
Warnings: Standard Individuation warnings plus one for Waver's terrible language.

[Waver had generally ignored the four shadows that had been trailing behind him at varying distances the past few days. There was a lot on his mind, and some spectral nonsense ranked very low on his list of priorities.]

[So it caught him completely off guard when one spoke. Not just spoke, spoke in a voice he knew. As haughty and disdainful as it had been ten years before, the words spoken caused the lecturer to freeze in place and drop the book he'd been holding.]

['Blood determines a mage's strength.']

[He spun around, automatically scowling and ready to throw a punch right into the speaker's smug face...but the one he knew to have owned that voice was nowhere in sight. Just the same shadows, yet now one seemed to have shifted. It was far from a perfect silhouette, and yet it carried the air of that superior stance, that arrogant and cold magus Waver had hated so much--]

['Is this what your precious 'hard work' results in, Waver Velvet? You're nothing. You were destined to be nothing. Now the entire world is nothing--and it's entirely your fault. A proper magus could have prevented all this. If a real aristocrat had taken this title, he could have saved the world long before it was in ruins--not scramble to repair what no longer exists.']

[What? This was some kind of sick joke, right? Was this supposed to be some kind of poltergeist that spoke in his predecessor's voice? Waver staggered backwards, leaning against the bookshelf as though bracing himself against some form of attack.]

Really, this is it? Now I'm starting to think your illusions aren't even trying to look real.

[A second among the shadows spoke up at Waver's sarcastic dismissal, using the lazily spoken tones of a teenage boy.]

['Geez...I must be as stupid as you think. I really thought you could do anything, Professor. But I guess I couldn't expect a third-generation magus to save us. I bet you're glad to be rid of me, yeah?']

[Green eyes narrowed and turned cold. Don't argue with it. he told himself. Now you know this isn't real. With whatever ironclad logic he'd used to make that deduction, Waver did little more than shrug, pick up the book he'd dropped, and turn back to the shelf to disregard the shadows once again.]

['Don't you dare ignore me, Velvet.' The third was the voice of a teenage girl, her voice prideful and cold as only aristocracy could be. 'You let me die. I gave you everything and you let me die-!']

[Waver had largely tuned out the guilt-tripping poltergeists by now. He knew damn well that listening much longer would only hurt. Merely registering those last two voices had caused a distinct pain to settle in his chest with no sign of leaving. Oh, well. it would be over soon enough, just like all the other experiments. He'd just have to keep busy until--]

['I thought you better than this, Master.']

[If Kayneth's voice had left a crack in his metaphorical armor, it was that one which broke it completely. The sharp and cold shell of Lord El-Melloi's persona had shattered in no more than seven words, and for a moment Waver Velvet was very, very vulnerable.]

['You were the one for whom I would have done even the impossible. And this is how you repay everything I sacrificed? An entire world is dead and ruined while you alone survive. I thought you the kind to lay aside your own life for those more deserving, but I was wrong. You're a coward now just as you always were.']

Dia--

[No. Waver stopped sharply, cutting himself and his current train of thought off entirely. This was not real. He'd determined that mere moments beforehand, so clearly Jason or the tower itself had brought out the heavy artillery. His one real weak point.]

[Most in this situation would give up, he knew. Scream, cry, argue or beg forgiveness in the face of such pressure. With the hatred of Kayneth's words that still lingered in his mind a decade later...with the guilt of letting down Eskardos and Ismene both...and with the pain of his only friend calling him a coward, it would have been easy to break.]

[But Waver Velvet did not break. He snapped.]

Will you piss off--?! I am not in the fucking mood for this, so get lost and let me carry on with my day or I'll call a goddamned exorcist, do you comprehend that?!

[Completely enraged for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, Waver snarled in a voice he didn't even fully register as his own.]

If you really wanted me to believe this nonsense, you'd have Eskardos babbling like a brainless idiot instead of stringing coherent sentences! And honestly, none of you could even cobble together some form of projection? Our big threat this month is talking goddamned smoke?

[He folded his arms, tone cooling from 'fury' to 'critical sarcasm' as was his typical coping mechanism. Get angry and then belittle whatever made him angry to hell and back.]

I'm insulted that you thought it would be that easy. All four of you get out of my sight before I really get pissed off that you're talking so much in a library.

[Stopping after that frustrated outburst, Waver shut his book with a snap and placed it back on the shelf, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands and walking straight past the shadows like they'd never been there to begin with.]

[Later, he'd wonder if he just shouted eldritch abominations into submission. But for now, all four shadows trailing just behind him, there was someone he needed to talk to.]

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['You replaced me with him. How could a traitor have saved the world at all?']

[Waver's hand tensed and curled into a fist against the table, but he gave no other sign he'd heard anything at all.]

Just because I contracted him in your world doesn't make either of you 'better' than the other, don't say something so ridiculous. Listening to them at all is just going to cause trouble.

['And yet the third-generation failure doesn't have a solution to the problem, as per the standard. Shame I'm not around to steal anything else from, you might have found something of use.']

I-I know, but try telling that to my heart. It's not listening very well today.

[Diarmuid's eyes flick away from Waver for a moment when he notices movement, then they narrow when he realizes the cause of that motion. A lone shadow figure makes its way over to them, stopping not far away from Diarmuid.]

How could I forget? There is one thing you do well. Run.

[There is a soft hiss as Diarmuid draws in a breath through his teeth. Instead of responding to the shadow, though, he forces his attention back to Waver and his 'friends.']

Which one is your version of me?

[Diarmuid doesn't need to ask if one of them is Waver's version of him. Not with how shaken his friend is.]

It doesn't matter. Because this isn't real. [Waver replied in short and clipped sentences,fist shaking with how tense he was.]

They're just screwing with our heads, and that's all that matters. We're being guilt-tripped for shit that isn't our fault and that we never asked for.

[Diarmuid smiles weakly, his hand moving to cover the fist Waver has on the table. His thumb rubs at the back of Waver's hand to try and calm him some.]

You're not having much more luck getting your heart to listen than I am, are you? It's all right. You don't have to hide it from me, remember? We'll do this together, just like we do everything else.

Some knight you are. Do you even remember your own world? You know, the one that bloody gave birth to you and exalted you as a hero? Or have you forgotten all of us for the pipe dream this...poser is waving in your face?

You never were a knight. We would have been better off if you had stuck to chasing skirts. Though, if you're chasing him it looks like you fail at being a womanizer just as much as you fail being a knight...

[Those words cause Diarmuid to flinch as if he has been struck. He draws in a deep breath, trying not to let himself be upset by what isn't real, but the anger in his eyes shows he's not succeeding very well. He turns his head toward the shadow and snarls at it.]

Speak ill of him again and I swear...

Calm down. [Even though his voice was steady enough, under Diarmuid's hand Waver's own was still tense and shaking.] Don't even acknowledge them, it won't do any good.

['You're used to not doing any good, Velvet. I don't know what I was thinking--you're not even good enough to be my pawn.']

[Diarmuid forces himself to look away from the shadow and focus on Waver. The real one. The one who is shaking far too much for Diarmuid's liking despite his brave words.]

We need to get away from them.

Yes, bloody run again. It's your answer to everything.

Just for a little while. Let me take you away from here...

[The shadows will eventually return, but if Diarmuid takes them from the bottom of the Tower where they are now to the top as quickly as he can, they will have at least a short time to recover.]

What we need is a distraction. Just getting away won't help much if we have nothing else to focus on.

['So you're gonna run off? I guess you really are a coward after all, Professor. Same it's too late for me to get a class transfer.']

[Waver pressed his free hand to his head with a muttered 'Eskardos, I swear to god' before continuing.]

We can try a sparring match and you can teach me how to fight a little more properly.

Edited 2013-08-15 02:05 (UTC)

[Diarmuid raises an eyebrow at the mutter, but says nothing.]

I have been looking forward to having the chance to work with you, but are you sure you will be able to focus? A moment of inattention is what lead to this...

[He brushes his hand over his scar.]

...and I don't want you to get hurt.

No, you are just okay with hurting everyone else. Bloody selfish of you, if you ask me.

[It hurts. Those words hurt more than he can say, but somehow Diarmuid manages to push the hurt away and continue speaking.]

I know you don't like it, but will you let me carry you? We will be able to leave them behind for a little while that way. They will soon catch up, but at least we can start our lessons without their inane chatter.

I'll live. Realistically I can't do much to hurt you, and I like to think I'm hard to kill. Worst case, I can repair a couple broken bones.

['It was stupid to think you could save anyone, Waver Velvet. A worthless magus like you is lucky if he can heal so much as a papercut.']

[At his former teacher's voice Waver scowled and stood up, trying not to give them the satisfaction of lashing out again.]

I don't care how we do it, let's just get out of here.

[Instead of responding, Diarmuid just nods and gathers Waver into his arms. As he takes them quickly from the library, he hears the voice one last time.]

I wonder what you will do when you find yourself no longer able to run. It's not like you have any other talents.

[The words make him wince again, but it doesn't slow him at all. Soon they are on the gym floor. He sets Waver back on his feet, though one hand remains on his friend's shoulder just in case Waver is slightly dizzy from the dash...

...or maybe it's just there because Diarmuid needs the little extra bit of reassurance the touch brings.]

I'm assuming this is where you had in mind? It's the easiest place I've found to train in anyway.

Works well enough for me.

[He put a hand over Diarmuid's for a moment, head spinning as he contemplated the idea that he might never get used to how damn fast Diarmuid was.]

No point in wasting time, right? [Stepping back, Waver raised his hands into a fighting stance and shrugged off any lingering unease with a confident smirk.] Let's go.

[Diarmuid puts some distance between them before falling into a fighting stance of his own.]

I suppose I could have taken us to one of the safer floors that strip powers. We would have really been on level then. Who knows, in that case you might even end up kicking my butt...

[He laughs.]

...once I've trained you a bit more. Go ahead and attack. I will block and then tell you what you could have done to try and land the blow.

Whatever you say.

[He was more suited to defending, but when Waver moved it was quickly and with every intention of landing a punch thrown in the direction of Diarmuid's face.]

[Diarmuid has to give Waver credit that he's faster than expected, but even holding back Diarmuid is faster. It isn't hard for him to catch his friend's fist in his hand and twist the arm in an attempt to trap Waver long enough to deliver a blow of his own...a tap on the magus' nose.]

I realize from watching you fight you are probably more comfortable defending than attacking. Unfortunately, no fight is won only by defending. You know I am faster than you. Why did you attack directly?

[He winks at Waver.]

And saying I told you to is not an acceptable answer.

What--you did tell me to! What else was I supposed to do?!

You are suppose to think, Waver. That's what you are best at, right?

[Diarmuid lets go of his friend's arm.]

You know you aren't fast enough to strike me directly like that, and even if you managed to get a blow through, it wouldn't likely be hard enough to stop me from doing what I just did. You need to think outside of the box as they say now. Distract me. Confused me. Then strike when I am not as focused as I should be.

What should I have done, thrown a smoke grenade?

[What's he look like, Kiritsugu?]

Well, you do work with alchemy. Making a smoke grenade would be easy for you, wouldn't it?

[Diarmuid grins at him before becoming more serious.]

But what I really expect if for you is, not to throw a smoke grenade, but to throw a feint. Make it look like you intend to strike one place and then go for another and perhaps even another after that. You are faster than I expected. Use that to your advantage to duck in and out so I am not sure when you actually intend to commit to a strike. It is a strategy I use all the time when I fight since I don't have the strength that other servants have. It is hard for them to hit me when they are not sure where I will be and what I will be doing next.

[Frowning, Waver was clearly annoyed with himself for not realizing such an obvious course of action.]

You're right--I am more suited to defending. I tried to learn a form of martial arts that revolved around redirecting attacks rather than overpower them. Since I'm not all that strong myself, it seemed the logical course of action. Usually I just alter it a little to include strikes when I think I can get away with them.

Recognizing that is a big plus in your favor. So many of the Fianna thought the best way to fight was just to attack head on and bull their way through. If they were build like Oscar, then yes, that was true, but not everyone was. It took a lot of me running them in circles with a hit and run style of attacking before they realized that maybe there was some value in other attack styles.

[He shakes his head chuckling lightly at the memories.]

You chose the right kind of fighting style to fit your strengths. Besides, there is no reason to waste your own energy when you can use what others are kind enough to throw at you, right? And if you can get the person you are fighting to think you only wish to defend....they will be all the more surprised and off balance when you do finally attack. After all, feints are one way to confuse an enemy. Suddenly shifting the way you fight is another.

I'm not dumb enough to think I can brute strength anything. So it only stood to reason I should teach myself something like aikido, even if my technique's probably rough beyond belief.

[He shifted back into a fighting stance, stubbornly determined.]

Let's try again.

[Diarmuid laughs again, falling into a fighting stance of his own.]

Like I said, you are way ahead of some of them. They might have been my homeland's greatest heroes, but not all of them were the smartest.

When you are ready...

If I don't have my intellect, I don't have anything.

[Waver smirked, taking no longer than half a second to decide his plan of attack before attacking again. He moved with the speed and fluidity of his affiliated element, throwing a second punch in the direction of Diarmuid's face. At the last second he changed course, dropping to a level low enough to sweep the Servant's legs with his own.]

[Diarmuid leaps backward to avoid being caught by the leg sweep, but when he lands he's smiling widely.]

There you go! That is exactly the kind of thing I meant. If you can teach yourself to follow through with some kind of attack after that, it would be even better. After all, an opponent leaping away to avoid being tripped is focusing on that, not you. However, knowing exactly how and when to do something like that will take practice.

Ready to try again?

Yeah. I'm ready whenever you are.

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