tiraunt

[tiraunt]

           I’M   slowly chipping away at my pre-event owed replies, but in the meantime, i’ll toss out another starter call for some fresh interactions !  seeing as i’ll be doing this gradually, i’ll leave it uncapped for now. as always, feel free to like even if we have ongoing threads ! 

[tiraunt]

[tiraunt]

Sigo aquí, me inspire un poco hoy por unas cosas así que hice varios coloreados… En lo personal me gusta mucho el artista base y creo que cada que puedo trato de hacer uno de sus trabajos mikon

[tiraunt]

emptyrule​:

             isn’t that surprising. 

   Morgan was expecting no answer to her inquiry. an outright refusal? yes. a twisted sort of game where she witheld her answers? absolutely. but for there to be an answer…it was almost disappointing. of course, she already knew the answer. she had merely wanted her to say it, to confirm it in her own words if she had the strength to. “ Is that so? Then perhaps I should refer to the insects that plagued the forests in my Britain as Artoria. Perhaps setting it on fire would have brought me more satisfaction.”

      unlikely and impossible now. and any possible satisfaction garnered from that would be fleeting and thus pointless. but…there is something else– “ Is it the same now, though? Have you yet to become aware that your cursed blade’s origin is in this city yourself? “

      ❛   Hm.   ❜   HOW   odd, to emit anything remotely resembling a chuckle in the presence of one who calls herself Morgan le Fay. Then again, in an age where Humanity itself fought for its right to exist, nothing was set in stone. After all, this Morgan has accomplished the impossible already: surpassed her in kingship, flames be damned. If exchanging barbs gives them both some sort of fleeting satisfaction, who was Artoria to argue ? 

          It’s only with what Morgan says next that even the red dragon’s blood runs cold. No... that would be inaccurate. It burns hotter ━ an instinct. Those typically impassable eyes widen, even as her lips press into a grim, firm line.  ❛   … This city is brimming with Servants and sensations. To adapt is involuntary... even that could slither through the cracks.   ❜

[tiraunt]

originsword​:

     … What is this sensation gripping him by his very spine? The warm feeling that always wells up inside him in Saber’s presence, the feeling of safety and admiration— it’s now… inverted. Now it’s more akin to prey straying into the lion’s den, rather than having the lion’s protection. His instincts cry out for an escape— yet those golden eyes have his legs frozen. His mouth feels so dry now, his mind growing clouded— but he must push past that.

     Steeling his mind finally, he cleaves the mental fog away— his own expression growing wary as the unease is pushed down. Fear will only provoke “Saber” even more— despite the uncertainty and confusion… that one truth is enough to cling to for now.

          “— The first time…?“ Back at Savior’s Respite, Saber had mentioned the abnormalities of time here— such as the possibility of Rin showing up here, but from the middle of that Grail War… Is that the case here? A possibility he had not born witness to, yet still a valid possibility regardless? Silence fills the church for a moment, but his feet pushing onward soon echoes lightly against the walls. Further into the den he goes.

         “Mm… Maybe you are different. That malice of yours is certainly new… Even so— you still called out to me, same as normal…” For just a split second, before the malice fully intoxicated her voice— that much was true. “… Help me understand what’s going on here, Saber. That’s all I can ask of you.”

      ❛   You’re letting your sentimentality get the better of you.   ❜

          SHE’S   lying. She heard it just as clearly as he did: her weakness, as if saying his name were the equivalent of staying her hand. Perhaps her retort is just as much for herself as it is for her former Master; nevertheless, her petrifying gaze never wavers.  ❛   Now I know for certain things are altered by your perspective,  ❜  the Alter continues, quiet enough to almost be for her ears alone.  ❛   You stamped out that sentimentality before.   ❜

           The bitterness is so potent that even she can taste it in the air. Twisted pride swells her chest in equal measure, even as that split second in time replays over and over in her mind. ‘Shirou… ?’  His pupils dilate. He doesn’t hesitate. Her heart is no more. Sakura is saved. In her mind’s eye, the clock rewinds and the scene replays — over and over and over. That malice of yours is certainly new, he says in the present day. It isn’t, she wants to interject. But perhaps it is. It isn’t merely an emotion she kept buried, but an emotion whose existence she never allowed herself to even acknowledge. Malice. Fury. Tyranny. Pride. Greed. Desire. It all roils inside freely now, restrained only because she wills it to be — because even now, Shirou Emiya deserves only her apathy. It’s the emotion he has the best chances of surviving; it’s the burden that would be easiest for him to carry once he leaves this place. The fact that she still thinks this way, considers her satisfaction secondary, is... infuriating. And so that twisted, blackened flame yawns within her core. 

       ❛   Be more specific,   ❜   comes an eventual reply, far too sharp — more of a demand. From his perspective, it likely seems unprompted. The flame yawns wider.  ❛   Do you mean this island ?  Or have you still not understood what it is you’re looking at ?   ❜

[tiraunt]

emptyrule​:

    “ If you know as such, then why don’t you spit out the answer? Or is it that you need time to come up with some form of an excuse?”

after that debacle at the castle, Morgan had wondered if she would ever see the corrupted King of Knights again. the true one, not a result of faerie magic. perhaps her wonderings were too effective– had she known her day would be interrupted as so, she would have planned better.

 “ That Noble Phantasm. Excalibur Morgan. Just who do you think you are, attaching my name to it? Will you tell me why you have done so? Or act a fool instead?”

          THERE   was small satisfaction to be found in earning her ire. It was childish, perhaps, and more than a little foolish ━ but satisfaction outweighed the rest. It was a technicality, of course; it was not this Morgan it was named after, but one of pan-human history. Being the more ‘fitting’ Morgan, she’d take far more satisfaction out of drawing that one’s ire... but beggars can’t be choosers, can they ? 

          After a lingering silence, the Saber clicks her tongue.  ❛   When gazing upon that twisted, inverted flame, no one else came to mind.   ❜

[tiraunt]

stainlessbloom​:

WHERE FLAMES FLICKER, SO, TOO, do those of crimson butterflies disperse in naught but sparks of life. wings flutter as they glide into rest beautifully atop burnt earth. life, were there any before, comes to a haunting still within the mists that settle so peacefully over quieted lands. no, even if those innocent creatures were to find their way back after they fled, they would not find their homes inhabitable upon their return. were it not the char upon the remaining trees, it would be the stench of corruption which clings in the crimson haze which would make it so.

what soils one walks was not only product of liquid fire, but that of blackened blood which has found its way to its soils, quenching its thirst in ways that should never have come to be.

ice can no longer find itself in the recesses of her heart, only the brightness of a pale flame that has now surged force, beckoned forth by the cool mists that encase all. icelit veins rest dormant where now a witch of relentless flame stands, figure wavering amid ripples of heat that break through the gloom, as the last splotches of darkness trickle atop the ground. gone, the monsters are all eradicated here at long last ━ none remain, their corpses but ash floating upon blistering air. were it only so, she laments momentarily, as the stench of alteration becomes overbearing.

                                            ah, was this as simple as that, she wonders?

❝ You… ❞ the voice draws from her, hidden coals falling upon such a demure frame from beneath her mask, as if assessing all which should be smothered out in purifying flames. ❝ Have you, too, come to be cleansed in fire as you are? ❞

@tiraunt

           SMOKE   strangles mist, filling the surrounding area in an unsteady haze. She doesn’t have the time to linger here, nor the luxury, but this unnatural heat begs her attention. After all... if it stings uncomfortably against even her cheeks, a young Master wouldn’t be able to stand it nearly as well. So she ignores the urge to go back the way she came, pressing onward until she finds the source. 

             A flame given form. 

            That was her first impression, at least. Saber grips the hilt of her blade tightly, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Illusion, or inhabitant ?  Distraction, or outright hindrance ? The woman’s eyes rake over her like hot coals, and the Alter’s chin raises slightly. Her voice is molten, equal parts inviting and menacing. Yes... A flame given form was certainly correct. 

       ❛   So this is your doing, then. … I suppose that’s obvious.   ❜  Her gaze narrows, one heel grinding into the dirt; it, too, feels caked in soot and ash.  ❛   What you choose to do to these figments is none of my business, nor my concern. But if you continue that train of thought, I’d sooner be bathed in blood than be given the same treatment.   ❜   The tilt of her head suggested the blood wouldn’t be her own.    

[tiraunt]

matoued​:

      small figures dance around darkened plate armor, almost as if in celebration of the appearance of the Servant. swaying to and forth, the familiars eagerly lead the Saber through the mist with haste, paying no attention to anything that might be lurking out there. their only goal was to return the wayward king to where she belonged.

  and there, within the depths, perched upon a lone cement wall, was that destination. Sakura had barely managed to escape Shirou. he was as persistent as she remebered, but he didn’t keep his promise. he didn’t stop her from doing bad. he didn’t scold her. he chose her (or so she saw), and yet. it was just another lie in the end. perhaps all of what she had seen was just that: a carefully crafted lie that almost passed as truth. it didn’t matter now, though. she was far away from him. there was nothing he could do to help her. and besides, there were more important matters at hand.

“ Saber.”

    ruby eyes lift, strands of ivory hair shifting with movement as Sakura lifted her head to gaze into the mist. people lied to her. they always did. but she knows this one won’t. she’ll tell her the truth, right? she’ll answer her questions with the truth. yes, yes she will. she knows she will.

    @tiraunt – mistified 

         SHE   recognizes these familiars in an instant. Even if they weren’t visibly familiar, their energy was; it was all but compelling her to their master’s side — her former Master. She was actually relying on that former connection to find Sakura Matou in the first place, deeming her to be the most vulnerable of those she felt loyal to, so this was something of a welcome development. The closer Saber drew, however, the more... unsettled she became. The output of mana was higher than it should be. The sensations were... Unclear. Not stable. … Familiar. 

         Something isn’t right. 

         It’s only when the Matou girl comes into view that she fully understands; yet, at the same time, Saber doesn’t understand. What could have been the catalyst to this without an ongoing Grail War... ? In some ways, to see her like this was comfortable in a purely selfish way; there was something satisfying at remembering the kindred nature which drew them together as Master and Servant. But even then... no Servant enjoys seeing their Master suffer. And she was most certainly suffering. She may bear a smile, but it’s dripping with ichor. Artoria would know it well.

     ❛   Sakura... I’ve been searching for you.   ❜  

[tiraunt]

★ 【applekun】 「 セイバーオルタ 」 ☆ ⊳ saber alter // fate/grand order ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter

[tiraunt]

          THE   sensation is immediate. 

            Whatever the Saber had been doing prior was irrelevant, cast aside accordingly. She’s felt this sensation before, of course— twice. When she’d first arrived, she knew instantaneously that at least one of her prior Masters was present. She now knows this to have been Ritsuka Fujimaru, as Shirou Emiya’s presence had a much different sensation... More like an ache, albeit a dull one. But this strong tug, this thrum of energy, she could sense as Sakura Matou. No guesswork necessary, even without the process of elimination. Could it be because of her unique ties to that unholy Grail, or was it the very nature of that Master as a person... ?

            She wonders, but she doesn’t dally; a Servant is perfectly capable of mulling all this over while approaching the city’s center at breakneck speeds. Even if the sensation weren’t so easy to pinpoint, she has the advantage of time in this city; she knew exactly where to look for new arrivals. 

       ❛   Sakura Matou.   ❜   Her voice reaches the spot almost before her physical form, assessing the young woman in brief silence. … Something is different here... 

       ❛   You’re unharmed.   ❜   Doubtful she realizes that in this place, that was always subject to change.

@matoued​ 

[tiraunt]

avengier​:

❝ So long as I win, then what does it matter? That is how war is and you know it. It’s fine if it means I can drag you down to the depths of Hell with me for a single victory. ❞ not that she would truly be able to get a win any other way no matter how hard she tries, given her unfortunate existence, right? ❝ It doesn’t. If you wanna try to play fixer for that stupid little country of yours, then go ahead. See if I care. Also, why do you keep bringing up that pathetic country? France this. France that. As if this burning hatred within me would be satiated to raze it into the ashes it deserves to be. As if that Master would allow such a thing to happen. Either way, I know now it would not matter. So shut up about that God forsaken country already! ❞

              HER   gaze narrows as if she’s honed in on a target. She remembers all too well Jeanne Alter’s words in Shinjuku about that other Avenger, about why death was the only suitable outcome. She’s wondered for some time now how an Avenger could tolerate being in a place like this; it seems she’s inadvertently touched on a fraction of the answer.

          ❛   I see... Interesting. For the first time, you actually say something reasonable: I cannot fault you when I, too, would drag you down to the depths of Hell by the scruff of your neck. Even for a single victory.   ❜   A measured pause. Very rarely have they ever discussed something resembling a truce; ‘negotiations’ in Shinjuku prior to Master’s arrival had been fraught enough.  ❛   I shall leave that ‘God forsaken country’ to the dogs for the price of your silence about that ‘stupid little country,’ and whatever you think my goal may be. … And perhaps lunch. On your bill. ��� Pasty.   ❜   One should never begin negotiations at their lowest offer.

[tiraunt]

avengier​:

❝ Oh? Fufu… is it not only right for me to when I bear those similar features? Or is this your way of revealing you cannot accept it’s just how it is? What a joke. I know better than anyone how unwanted this existence truly is. Unlike some sullied king who keeps breaking everything she tries to fix? Hah. Don’t make me laugh. You’re a hundred years too early with petty comebacks like those! ❞

     ❛   Speaking as if you’ve won when all you’ve accomplished is lowering the bar for us both ?  It’s just like you, mad dog. What does it matter to you what I break or don’t break ?  Shouldn’t you be occupied with burning the whole of France ?  … Or perhaps that’s why you’re even more insufferable than I recall, there is no France to burn.   ❜

[tiraunt]

avengier​:

❝ Aren’t you one to talk, too? Go get crispy in a tanning booth for once, pasty. ❞

      ❛   I find it a little odd that the matchstick witch is lecturing me about my complexion. I believe you’ve lost even more color since I last saw you; you look as though you’ve only just escaped a wax museum.   ❜

[tiraunt]

avengier​:

❝ You’re all unattractive. There, I said it. ❞

     ❛   I suppose you would be the most qualified on the subject, having all this firsthand experience.   ❜

[tiraunt]

counteralt​:

     now, it’s not as if this was intentional. in fact, the evening had carried on relatively peacefully. Okita had spent a portion of it following another Alter that resided within this city, and though it was their first time holding an almost proper conversation, she had heard the rumors. the woman was hardly one to hold her tongue– and her weapon. it was inevitable, wasn’t it? that the evening peace would be shattered. here, it is in the form of a glass mug hitting the ground and splintering into hundreds of pieces.

       which was quickly followed by someone being thrown over the bar countertop and colliding with the shelves holding a myriad of liquors. the silence had only lasted a minute after impact. then, everything erupted into chaos.

   she holds herself back. while her prowess as a Servant has been considerably limited, she still holds too much of an advantage over the humans within this bar and Okita had no wish to kill any of them. what doesn’t help is that the one thrown over the counter– and currently slouched unconcious upon the wooden floor – was the bar’s owner. 

     perhaps she should have stuck with going to Denny’s.

       “ Miss Saber Alter, how are we–” she ducks to avoid another flying body, the wooden sword within her grasp swinging out to trip whoever was trying to rush her. “ – going to bring an end to this? The authorities will be here soon. It would not be wise if we stayed here!”

@tiraunt​ – starter call.

          TYRANTS   weren’t known for being particularly merciful. 

            Even so, she’s shown endless restraint today, if you were to ask her. She allowed this Alter allied with the Counter Force to follow her around in the first place, after all. They’d even had some semblance of a rapport, borne from their mutual attempt to understand this odd summons; her experience in Shinjuku was of some benefit to their plight, she thinks. 

            However, she was no longer a King of the people. She had no obligation to suffer the presence of those that would try and interrupt her conversation, or her drink; a man incessantly trying to strike up a rapport of his own was none of her concern. Her own inattentiveness coupled with her increasing hunger ( and with it, rapidly declining patience ) would prove to be the owner’s downfall, as when he walked up to inquire from her in that demanding tone, she assumed it was the other man growing irate. And so, rather unceremoniously, her drink was shattered as she dropped it in favor of launching him across the bar. 

            She’d held back. No, really. Every single man she proceeded to come into contact with from that point on would walk it off. … Eventually. 

      ❛   We don’t bring an end to it.   ❜   A simple solution presented without any particular emotion. Even her expression is nondescript; her eyes, however... Her eyes are certainly twinkling with newfound mischief. Just a little.  ❛   While these fools fight amongst themselves—   ❜   A pause punctuated with a grunt as she drives a half-full pint into the side of a bar-goer’s face, mercifully made of wood this time. That would certainly sting, a passing thought as beer sloshes into his eyes. 

      ❛   — We leave out the back door.   ❜

[tiraunt]

u smelly

nobody's perfect.

[tiraunt]

@avengier​​​​ : “Here’s another curse for you - may all your bacon burn.”

              STUDIO GHIBLI.

           YES   , she was expecting a response like that. She exhales sharply through her nose, brows furrowing low on her forehead. Nothing makes her outwardly perturbed quite like Jeanne Alter. … Just Jeanne Alter, in general.

       ❛   If it’s curses you want, may your wine wither on the vine. May your flames be nothing more than a pathetic whimper, so that my bacon remains unscathed.   ❜