Archer [Fate/Prototype] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bowandblade) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2013-08-15 07:28 am
bowandblade) wrote in towerofanimus2013-08-15 07:28 am
when the mind tortures the soul
Characters: Archer [AU3] and open
Setting: Any floor for August 12-15; any floor between dorms and floor 25 for August 16
Format: Action brackets to start. I'll follow preference after that.
Summary: Is there anything that can unsettle the King of Heroes' heart?
Warnings: Shadow children. Character death for August 16.
August 12
[The first smiling shadow had appeared on his bed on Sunday, so silent and unobtrusive that it might as well have been a second shadow. Archer had peered at it silently, suspiciously poked at it, but soon enough ignored it to go through his day. All is fairly well on the first day.
Receiving Ayaka's glasses in his mailbox does nothing for his mood. He spends a good portion of the time on floor 58, skewering countless corpses and cutting into them as a means of releasing his anger.
When he returns to his room, he finds the note pointing him in the direction of the library. With the glasses still in hand, Archer hangs out there.]
August 13
[They had started speaking in whispers yesterday. Barely audible little sounds, wisps of longer sentences that seemed to be cut off. On Tuesday, those whispers growl louder and more coherent.]
Our king, blessed by the gods. Why did you not save us?
We are from your world, torn and ruined. You sadden us, King. Everything is gone, even the ruins of what you ruled.
You do not know. You do not know. You do not remember the world falling apart, do you? You, who must remember everything.
Everything is ruined, destroyed, empty... Woe be to all because of Gilgamesh.
[There are many of them, and they feed off of him even as they irritate him. But he cannot lash out against them or chase them off. Cannot outrun them. He cannot sit still in the tower, instead climbing and constantly moving.]
August 14
Archer.
[The voice is soft and weak, strained and familiar. His title instead of his proper name has him looking to the shadow children that are following him -- fewer now than yesterday, but still wavering and vaguely familiar behind those white, wide grins.]
I never got to thank you. For what you did. Saber came back with the potion, from you.
[His lips part as he realizes what the shadow -- what she -- is saying. His eyes widen underneath the fringe of his disheveled hair, no longer raked back.]
And now I never will. Never, never. I'm from your world, our world, and I was never saved. I never drank the antidote, and the world ended.
[Archer doesn't know why he feels lightheaded. Why it affects him as much as it does. But he turns and bows his head, walking away from Ayaka's voice. He heads to floor 7, to the swimming pool, and dives into its depths. To distract himself.]
August 15
[The tiredness did not completely leave him after yesterday, evident from the faded violet of his collar. The shadows that follow him are fewer now, quieter in their lamenting. He doesn't have the energy to be angry at them, to deny their existences.]
Archer.
[He recognizes the voice and looks up.] I was expecting you to talk yesterday, when your Master did. Holy sword wielder.
She had her time. And now I have mine.
[It had not been so long since he had heard Saber's voice, but there is still that clip of tension that had eased with the Saber he had met in the tower. He walks through the lower flowers, floors 10 and 11, as if meaning to drown out the shadow's voice with the sound of flowing water.]
The King of Heroes. That is what you were. Your ancient kingdom may be gone, but you were still the King of Heroes.
[He says nothing. He needs no reminder of what he is.]
What will you rule now? There are no more heroes. No more Heroic Spirits. No more wars.
You are the King of Nothing. Of No One. Of Nowhere.
Now you are as you have acted. You are no king.
August 16
[Archer has trouble climbing out of bed in the morning. It's a matter of going through the motions, of trying to focus. He is so weary that he almost doesn't notice that the mass of shadows that had been following him had dispersed to somewhere beyond his immediate periphery.
In their place is a single shadow, smiling its white, wide grin and only vaguely familiar.
But now, he knows what the shadow is. Why it has persisted for so long. Why it would not leave when the others could be chased away. Why it does not speak.]
There is a place. A meadow. I want you to see it.
[He has a long way to walk. But he will walk. He will journey, just as he did in another lifetime.
And the shadow child walks behind him, just as another had in another lifetime.]
Setting: Any floor for August 12-15; any floor between dorms and floor 25 for August 16
Format: Action brackets to start. I'll follow preference after that.
Summary: Is there anything that can unsettle the King of Heroes' heart?
Warnings: Shadow children. Character death for August 16.
August 12
[The first smiling shadow had appeared on his bed on Sunday, so silent and unobtrusive that it might as well have been a second shadow. Archer had peered at it silently, suspiciously poked at it, but soon enough ignored it to go through his day. All is fairly well on the first day.
Receiving Ayaka's glasses in his mailbox does nothing for his mood. He spends a good portion of the time on floor 58, skewering countless corpses and cutting into them as a means of releasing his anger.
When he returns to his room, he finds the note pointing him in the direction of the library. With the glasses still in hand, Archer hangs out there.]
August 13
[They had started speaking in whispers yesterday. Barely audible little sounds, wisps of longer sentences that seemed to be cut off. On Tuesday, those whispers growl louder and more coherent.]
Our king, blessed by the gods. Why did you not save us?
We are from your world, torn and ruined. You sadden us, King. Everything is gone, even the ruins of what you ruled.
You do not know. You do not know. You do not remember the world falling apart, do you? You, who must remember everything.
Everything is ruined, destroyed, empty... Woe be to all because of Gilgamesh.
[There are many of them, and they feed off of him even as they irritate him. But he cannot lash out against them or chase them off. Cannot outrun them. He cannot sit still in the tower, instead climbing and constantly moving.]
August 14
Archer.
[The voice is soft and weak, strained and familiar. His title instead of his proper name has him looking to the shadow children that are following him -- fewer now than yesterday, but still wavering and vaguely familiar behind those white, wide grins.]
I never got to thank you. For what you did. Saber came back with the potion, from you.
[His lips part as he realizes what the shadow -- what she -- is saying. His eyes widen underneath the fringe of his disheveled hair, no longer raked back.]
And now I never will. Never, never. I'm from your world, our world, and I was never saved. I never drank the antidote, and the world ended.
[Archer doesn't know why he feels lightheaded. Why it affects him as much as it does. But he turns and bows his head, walking away from Ayaka's voice. He heads to floor 7, to the swimming pool, and dives into its depths. To distract himself.]
August 15
[The tiredness did not completely leave him after yesterday, evident from the faded violet of his collar. The shadows that follow him are fewer now, quieter in their lamenting. He doesn't have the energy to be angry at them, to deny their existences.]
Archer.
[He recognizes the voice and looks up.] I was expecting you to talk yesterday, when your Master did. Holy sword wielder.
She had her time. And now I have mine.
[It had not been so long since he had heard Saber's voice, but there is still that clip of tension that had eased with the Saber he had met in the tower. He walks through the lower flowers, floors 10 and 11, as if meaning to drown out the shadow's voice with the sound of flowing water.]
The King of Heroes. That is what you were. Your ancient kingdom may be gone, but you were still the King of Heroes.
[He says nothing. He needs no reminder of what he is.]
What will you rule now? There are no more heroes. No more Heroic Spirits. No more wars.
You are the King of Nothing. Of No One. Of Nowhere.
Now you are as you have acted. You are no king.
August 16
[Archer has trouble climbing out of bed in the morning. It's a matter of going through the motions, of trying to focus. He is so weary that he almost doesn't notice that the mass of shadows that had been following him had dispersed to somewhere beyond his immediate periphery.
In their place is a single shadow, smiling its white, wide grin and only vaguely familiar.
But now, he knows what the shadow is. Why it has persisted for so long. Why it would not leave when the others could be chased away. Why it does not speak.]
There is a place. A meadow. I want you to see it.
[He has a long way to walk. But he will walk. He will journey, just as he did in another lifetime.
And the shadow child walks behind him, just as another had in another lifetime.]
August 16, closed; cw: character death
He found it hard to care, even as one whose fear of death had sent him on a journey that lasted decades.
Gilgamesh.
The androgynous voice was quiet, but still audible over the rumble of distant thunder. He did not look up, instead focusing on his legs folded in front of him.
"I should have known."
You realized. You remembered.
"Remembered?" A single note of a bitter laugh escaped, even as he felt a heavy weight growing in his chest. "I could never forget you."
There was a thoughtful hum, but no words in reply from the shadow child. Gilgamesh sighed and shut his eyes; if he was quiet and closed his eyes, he could almost imagine barefoot feet softly brushing through the blades of grass.
You must be tired, my friend. Lie down.
He wanted to resist, but his body was already obeying -- a sign of the weariness that had overtaken him. The grass rustled around him, and he breathed in the scent of flowers while idly wondering just how long it would take for him to fall asleep.
It has been a long, long time.
The voice was close, as if his friend had chosen to sit at his side. He managed a sound of agreement, folding his hands together low against his ribcage.
You should realize ... that this is only possible because the world ended. Because humanity is gone.
His eyelids twitched. His lips tensed into a frown.
We could only be reunited when your duty was completed.
He felt that weight in his chest tighten at the reminder of his purpose. His head moved slightly in a nod.
I am ... surprised, to be honest. I had not known I had a soul to ruin.
"Of course you have a soul." His words come in a rush, edged with what little fervor he could still muster. "You fool. You fool."
I apologize, my friend. He could hear a sound that imitated an exhale, a sigh. I could not stay away when I realized you were here.
"I would not want you to."
Even if it pains you now?
"I would not want you to." He breathed heavily, as if he had yelled those words and not barely hissed them. "Stay with me." There was a thread of pleading in his tone.
There was the briefest chime of laughter. My king is still so selfish. You would have me stay this way, ruined and warped and set adrift? How cruel.
To that, Gilgamesh could say nothing. He wanted to be selfish, to have his companion -- whose death had haunted him and remained with him even now -- by his side once again. But he could not forget what the shadows had said: They were all that was left of those who had been of his world. His people. His dead, his living, his yet unborn.
His fingers clenched against his stomach. His teeth gnashed together as he felt heat rising behind his eyes.
"How many lifetimes must I wait?"
This was little more than a continuation of this week of taunts. His dear friend was beyond his reach in death while whole, and a shadow that he could hear but not touch while ruined.
I do not know; you are the one who sees the future in your dreams. But I will return to the earth, with the dead all around me, without my dear friend at my side. When there was no reply forthcoming from the king, that familiar voice again floated down to his ears. Enough of that. While I remain, let me leave you with one more memory.
Gilgamesh nodded again, the motion barely noticeable with his movements so weak. He could hear humming, the introduction to a song, as his consciousness began to fade.
I am from your world. I am yours. I will always be watching you from the earth below. Until humanity is gone.
"Until humanity is ... gone..."
- - - - -
Gilgamesh's body remained on the meadow even as the storm raged. Anyone who came across the body would be greeted by the sight of the corpse on its back with its face tilted to the ground, collar drained of color. To the side of the corpse was a single shadow child, a hand ghosting over Gilgamesh's hair but unable to touch it.
The shadow child stayed with the corpse, even after the retrieval unit came for it.