Berserker . The Masterless Servant

[chevalier_mal_fet]

Sir Lancelot's final memories of the Tower as he knew it last are all Darkness and Fire. But then, many of his own memories of Life and the War both carry a similar distorted taint. He recalls a Madness not his own, and a merciful Death. He recalls a brief respite-- a few lost days in his Master's company before Death took him once again. Suddenly, in that moment, as one struck by an arrow from afar. Or by some poison.

On his second rising, even the air of the place seemed changed, his own senses seeming to have lost their compass for a the space of a breath. Only that little time needed pass before he missed his Master-- and indeed, their bond is broken.

Berserker has wandered since as Mist and Shadow, and sometimes as Himself unseen. Content, for the time being, to watch as events play out before him. Without Kariya Matou, he feels less substantial, and less the more human Self that he had shared with his Master in this Place. Strange and Fae, he goes where his Will takes him.

...

The Graveyard - Here, he lingers by his Master's grave. He has avoided this Place, as it has nothing to show him that he does not already know to be true. Still, the sight of Kariya's grave marker is a painful one. A reminder that in the end, he failed his Master-- in every way a Servant can.

The Meadow - This was his Master's favorite among the Tower floors, and indeed it was here they met again after having been taken from the War. Here he is sometimes unseen, but today he stands beneath the false Sun, his back to the entrance, unguarded.

The Cathedral - Once a Holy Knight with a Blessed Weapon, Sir Lancelot does not enter the Sanctuary, but wavers just within the threshold-- as if in debate with himself over whether to enter or no.

Room 1-10 & Environs - Those he shares rooms with may find him sat on the edge of his bed or checking the contents of his Trunk. He may also be encountered in the dormitory hallways nearby.

Comments

Cathedral

[athousandcurses]

[The Cathedral seems nostalgic to Grainne. It's not the structure, but the feel of the place that gave her a strange feeling of home. Maybe because it felt ancient. She can't place why herself, but many of the days she's spent in the Tower were in the Cathedral, usually with some sort of work in her hands.

Her powers are nearly returned to her; she's felt more like herself the last few days and even the more passive powers are working, if a bit vaguely. A Servant again. She never thought it would be a relief.

She sits not far from the entrance, with a bit of sewing in hand and in her robes, but without her veil and cloak. She stops working though. Something's wrong. A change in the air or maybe she just sensed it. There's someone here; she turns to see who it is.]

Hello?

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[He has been aware enough of other Servants, these past days, but has avoided speech with them for reasons of his own. Perhaps the chief of which is that he felt empty of words.
He senses the presence of this one now, but it is a not a presence he knows. He does not move, but answers with his eyes still fixed upon the distant and False vaulted ceiling.]

Lady. I beg your pardon. I have not come to Disturb you.

[athousandcurses]

[Grainne shifts in her seat, setting her sewing down.]

I'm not disturbed.

[She is curious about why he is standing there, though. He seems like he wants to come in, but is reluctant.]

If you wish to sit down, I am not going to stop you, Sir.

[chevalier_mal_fet]

If I wished to enter, Lady, none but your God could prevent me.
[Though low pitched, his voice is harsh-- either in anger, or as one who has not spoken aloud for some time.
Though he does not turn his eyes on the Servant, he does temper his tone.]

Tell me, why do you linger here-- and who do you Serve?

Graveyard (cw: this could get negative?)

[neverbeamemory]

[Morbid curiosity for the one who has died brought Sephiroth here initially, if only to see Rick's headstone for himself on the off-chance others aren't around.

Sephiroth is not by any means prepared to have to face others that might seek some pointless vengeance for what he did, especially since he is again without his powers and his healing forearm still throbs beneath it's support bandage despite the fact that it's no longer an open wound. He looks still frayed around the edges and the presence he exudes usually is not there at all.

His usual leathered frame comes to a stop no less than three headstone spaces away from Lancelot and peers between the one he might have called a friend and the headstone that he can't quite make out the name of from his distance.]

(Good to see you! I have no objection to negativity.)

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[He knows the grave to be empty. Yet he still feels its mockery keenly-- it deepens the pain of his strange sorrow all the more.
Sephiroth, he knows, is near. There is much that might be said, but for the nonce he simply speaks his mind, as if to the air itself. He does not lift his head, but gazes at the stone, his long, dark hair curtaining his face. ]

When first I came to this place, we quarreled. He had no head for Strategy, and hardly the stomach for Battle-- only the feverish conviction of the Righteous. Indeed, I thought us poorly suited and myself shackled to an unworthy Master. Indeed, I said as much.
In this I erred, and was humbled by his Will and Faith. If he lacked Power and Command, then what of it? I was his Arm and his Strength, his Strategist. His Champion, his Companion, even. He had no Fear of my Form or Wrath, and I did his bidding with a calm Heart.

What will come to pass now that we are parted, I cannot see, and cannot say. Our last days together are Dark with Shadow in my Mind, and I was not Living at the Last when he fell forever in this Hellmouth where we tarried together.

Tell me then, why is it you linger here, Sephiroth? Whose grave do you seek?

My pleasure! \o/

[neverbeamemory]

[Seldom, yet more often recently Sephiroth has lost his thoughts in gazing at the various names of a handful of the graves that represent those that have been lost forever to the wasteland of his Planet. He'd outlasted them all. Until very recently he'd seen it as almost a strength of his, now, he came reminisce on that which he had lost; similar to one of his only sometime-companions left here who now stood before him doing the same.

Though it wasn't clear whether Lancelot refers to Sephiroth himself or to the name of the one he has recently lost.]

I come here- [He pauses, attempting to conjure up some of his lacking confidence back into his voice but it falls far short of how Lancelot is used to him sounding.] -because I didn't so much before, even when perhaps I should have lingered more often.

[To bask in the scale of those who had fallen away from this place. Perhaps a few of the names etched in stone around on this floor could have focused his thoughts to a different end than this.]

The Meadow

[oathshackledbird]

[Between his wife's arrival and being sick most of last month because of Sephiroth's little...game, Diarmuid has spent most of this month feeling like he is behind and has missed a lot. When he spots Lancelot in the Meadow, that feeling only grows stronger. It is obvious that, while the madness that was plaguing him before seems to be gone, something else is wrong. No knight would leave themselves so open and unguarded. Especially in this place.

He crosses to where the other servant is standing and then speaks.]

What has happened?

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[He does not turn, even at the familiar presence, or the words. He only smiles very slightly. Diarmuid us Duibhne remains unchanged, or so it seems.
After a long moment, seemingly lost in reading the clouds that dot the False sky, he answers.]

Much has happened, it seems-- and yet I know little enough of it. I have not seen your face in some time, Diarmuid ua Duibhne-- and then it was in this Field, as I recall.
Tell me, what has passed for you?

[oathshackledbird]

It was and you were falling to madness then. Now, you have returned to normal...

[And Diarmuid doesn't feel like he has to say what that implies. Lancelot must have died and returned to the old collar fluid, though, when that might have happened he has no idea after losing so much of last month.]

I was...ill for most of last month thanks to Sephiroth. So much of the time is lost to fever and delusion.

[He shakes his head, frowning.]

Though, perhaps I was lucky and shouldn't complain. Thanks to my bond with Waver I did not die like I have heard others did.

Dormitories

[bowandblade]

[He didn't quite have a routine; obviously there were many places to go in the Tower, even if they continued to be dangerous. As the floors became more familiar, the danger became the only thing worth looking forward to.

And even then, the thrill of danger from an environment, from brainless, mutilated creatures, did not compare to fighting one of the "higher ranked" Servants.

Despite detecting a Servant nearby, Archer doesn't pause until he actually sees that long-haired individual on the far side of the hall. He lifts his head and narrows his eyes, setting out to stride towards him wordlessly.]

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[Having at last determined to be visible and to walk among the living-- if they may indeed be called the living-- he has both recognized and expected the recognition of the other Servants present in the Tower.

Archer seems particularly intent on renewing their acquaintance this day. Though with what intent, he cannot guess.
As it is, he stops where he stands, raising a hand in informal greeting.]

Archer.

[bowandblade]

[Archer's feelings do not make it to his face as he makes his approach; his frown is slight at best, his stare intense but not accompanied by knitted brows or other visual tells.

That is, until he's all of three feet away and his stare turns into an all-out glare, and his own hand comes up -- formed as a fist. With surprisingly little fanfare, he lets his fist fly at the Berserker's stomach, only then spitting out words of greeting.]

Berserker.

graveyard

[fionnuisce]

[Berserker had hovered over Waver's shoulder at an unsettling distance from time to time as the latter had worked. It had deeply disturbed the lecturer--like being watched by a giant, feral wildcat that could just as easily tear one's throat out.]

[And yet somehow, it was the lack of that occasional lurking presence that concerned him more. Though he didn't have much in the way of spare time, Waver found himself wandering to the graveyard for the first time in a while; there were a few names he wanted to check for.]

[However, this was something of the inverse of what he'd expected.]

O-oh. Kariya's...?

[chevalier_mal_fet]

Magus.
[Lancelot supposes he is yet a Servant, albeit one without a Master.
It seems a Lifetime ago that he last had Speech with Waver Velvet-- though he does have dim memories of lingering nearby while the man worked his Will.

Though his Master had loathed other Maguses as a Rule, he had enjoyed this man's company.
He does not turn his head, but though his voice is low with disuse, his tone is mild.]

The very Earth in this Place is as False all else here. But-- aye, this is my Master's Grave.

[fionnuisce]

...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.

[He did sound genuinely upset, approaching and folding his arms.]

Are you going to be alright?

cathedral

[glassceiling]

[Assassin has mostly kept to herself mostly after being ejected from the Tower. Only since the monsters have started disappearing is she exploring again, trying to find out why they're gone, and if they'll give way to something more dangerous.]

[She greets Lancelot as she spots him while going down the staircase toward the cathedral.]

Peace be upon you, Berserker.

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[Another Servant-- one he has not met in a long while, but remembers as a neutral, if intense, presence.
He lays a long, black-gloved hand upon his chest in greeting.]

Well met, Assassin.

Perhaps I came to this Place in search of Peace, I cannot say.
Only now that I stand upon the threshold am I reminded that I shall find none in this such a Place. Be it here or elsewhere.

[glassceiling]

Ah...yes. This is one of those Christian Cathedrals, is it not?

[She frowns at Berserker's words.]

...Why would you say that? Even here, there are moments that one can find peace.

The Cathedral -

[greyerrant]

Loken stands by the lectern within the cathedral, glowering at the world from behind his helmet as always. He spares the smaller but still immense knight a stare, and then a nod.

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[Even at this distance, the image of the hulking knight in the pulpit is at once absurd and alarming. An odd Priest-- and he himself had been odd enough of one.

He raises a hand in greeting, but does not step over the threshold-- yet.]

[greyerrant]

[ the distant figure booms, though somewhat muffled by the nature of the cathedral. ]

Unlike you to be hesitant, or afraid of something. What ails you, knight?

The Meadow

[no_longer_a_king]

The once and no longer future King of Britain had found herself going to the meadow quite often these days. If only to think about options. A party of their number would be going downstairs soon to find out what Riki was up to and she knew she would be among them. This was a good thing in her opinion, though she worried. There was only so much time left and no way to determine the exact right course to take. Everything from the beginning had been twisted in some way until no one was sure what was right and Arturia, once ever-decisive, found herself impatient, antsy, and wishing for something to do.

That was when she entered on this day to find Lancelot there and paused. It'd been a while since she'd seen him and she believed him to have been sent back to his world. However many who had been here before were being brought back. How unreasonable was it to assume this was the same Lancelot she had come to some kind of terms with, despite everything that had happened between them.

"Lancelot."

If there was anything she ever wanted to do that her men often did, now would be the best time. What other opportunity would she have to try it and she knew Lancelot would take it, though he would likely be incredibly confused. Her hand curled into a fist as she marched up to Lancelot and beckoned him to lean closer so she might speak to him more clearly.

And so King Arthur, that once stalwart and true King, decked Sir Lancelot across the jaw.

FATALITY

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[OOC: Did you want to continue this thread? I admit, I was looking forward to it! If not,
just give me a heads up!]

Arthur--

[Though dimly aware (for he has been much lost in thought) of the presence of another Servant, Lancelot is as surprised to see Arthur as he might be. He had not enquired after her upon returning, as he spoke to no one for some time.

He is even more surprised to find himself on his arse in the high, summer grass of the Meadow, nursing his jaw with one gloved hand.
Arthur's head obscures the sun, making a halo of it. How fitting.
When he speaks, his voice is hoarse with disuse-- and almost amused.]

Am I to have satisfaction from you, then? Or have I given you such offense that this satisfies some complaint of yours?

[no_longer_a_king]

You left.

[It's a childish thing to be upset about, but she is. Even if they did not speak much, she had grown used to the idea of Lancelot being in the Tower, had enjoyed the quiet friendship they had resparked. All she would need was Guinevere's presence and Arturia would have found herself happy here, cruel and shameful as it was to think it.

She had not expected him to land in the grass, but it did not matter. Arturia put her hands on her hips, her expression a mockery of a petulant child's. Hopefully he would get she was attempting to joke. It was not as if she had been trying to break his jaw. She did not even have her gauntlets on!]

You were not supposed to leave at such an inconvenient time. [Though they both know it was through no fault of his own.]