Trinity Angles (Discussion Thread)

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .



En route to Shujin Academy
April 11, 2016








In general, Galen had a fondness for subways; they recalled childhood shopping trips with his father and sister, convention trips with his friends, and similar experiences.

The Tokyo subway was a very different experience. The trains, for example, were cleaner, not to mention high-tech, almost futuristic. Not quite magnetic levitation—he still heard the familiar sound of wheels clattering over rails—but a lot quieter than he was used to. It also happened to be crowded beyond belief. In this instance, he was glad of that convention remembrance; it made dealing with the experience of being packed in like sardines much easier to handle.

He was dressed reasonably well, he thought: a charcoal-grey suit, black shirt and Gryffindor scarlet tie for colour—and luck. It seemed to match the school’s colours as well, so he thought it would be appropriate attire

. . . Sadly, he hadn’t counted on the rain.

But he was aware of the way the magical sensors in Japan worked, after his last stay here, which meant that discreetly Conjuring an umbrella wasn’t too difficult—just a matter of sleight-of-hand with his briefcase. Still, the effort slowed him down enough to make him worried about being late, so he checked his phone as he dashed across the sidewalk, ears open for potential collisions as he moved.

That odd icon was back on his phone, Galen noticed. He hadn’t deleted it, true—it was obviously connected to the test, so he probably wouldn’t be able to, even if he’d been inclined to—but he hadn’t called it to the forefront, either.

Why on earth would—?

“Damned Kamoshida,” a teenage boy muttered ahead. “Who does he think he is, the king of the castle . . .?”

“Destination found,” Galen’s phone announced suddenly. “Beginning navigation . . .”








En route to Kamoshida’s Castle
April 11, 2016








“What—the HELL . . .?” the teen demanded. “Where’s the school?!”

An excellent question, Galen mused silently, even as he noted the sign in front of the giant castle that proclaimed it was Shujin Academy.
Obviously, it was the app’s doing; just as obviously, this was a part of the “other side” that places like Tartarus, the TV World and the Velvet Room belonged to. Less obvious was the reason that the kid had been brought here with him, and why he was getting an odd sense of feedback—like the Legilimency equivalent of an ice-cream headache.

He shored up his Occlumency defences to reduce the effect, wondering about it. Neither Shirou nor Takara had ever mentioned this before—then again, they weren’t really all that adept at Legilimency. Takara had some talent, but aside from learning what little remained of the knowledge of the Nanaya family techniques in the art, little interest in it; and Shirou had even less of both. It was possible that neither of them had ever noticed the effect, he supposed . . .

Oh, hell—the kid was gone!

Cursing himself for getting distracted, the wizard ran toward the still-closing door, opening his briefcase as he moved to summon his gun. He’d deal with the consequences later; if he was going to be dealing with Shadows then Galen wanted every weapon he could get his hands on, bar none . . .

He burst into blue fire, suddenly, causing him to stop—and stare.

It looked not dissimilar to his typical combat outfit: a long coat, albeit black instead of grey, and cow leather over dragon’s hide, with similar gloves added. The really curious part was the additions of a black Musketeer’s-styled hat, and full-faced mask—and the sense of something, darkly amused and waiting, coiled in the back of his mind.

This was obviously significant, but Galen didn’t have time to figure out how or why; depending on the behaviour of the Shadows around here, that kid could be killed literally any second now, so he simply continued on, bursting through the doors—

There were four of them—three masked knights holding the kid, and a man in royal robes (and not nearly enough else) holding a sword, about to run him through. There wasn’t time to think, only react . . . And to his own surprise, Galen didn’t raise his gun or his wand, instead obeying an entirely new, but compelling instinct.

He reached up, and lifted the mask free, even as the invocation left his lips in sharp, searing words.

“Come—GUY FAWKES!”

[MWkillkenny84]

“Come—GUY FAWKES!”

... will Galen start to quote V for Vendetta?

[Kieran]

It's certainly a possibility . . .

To be honest, I'm not totally happy with my choice of Persona, here - I really believe the canon Arsene is ideal, but it's too blatant a swipe, I think. Galen is not the same person as the protagonist, even if he's acting in that character's stead, after all. However, while I suspect the final Persona would end up the same (there's no one better suited to use against the final boss, after all), I'm limited in terms of characters who fit the genre, or the theme (that aren't already used, of course) for the starting Persona.

I did consider Edmond Dantes/The Count of Monte Cristo, or the Man in the Iron Mask; both people dedicated to toppling corruption and injustice through trickery, even at the risk of their lives . . . Heck, even Merlin might count - he is a legendary trickster, after all, and a certain rebellious spirit can certainly said to be present in those versions where he was "meant to be the Antichrist, but declined the honour." Not quite fitting with the theme, though, is it?

. . . I don't know - what do you guys think?

[fsnfan]

I think Edmond Dantes/The Count of Monte Cristo fits more.

Other than the 'toppling corruption and injustice through trickery', he's also an Avenger in FGO which is the same class Galen was.

[MWkillkenny84]

It's certainly a possibility . . .

To be honest, I'm not totally happy with my choice of Persona, here - I really believe the canon Arsene is ideal, but it's too blatant a swipe, I think. Galen is not the same person as the protagonist, even if he's acting in that character's stead, after all. However, while I suspect the final Persona would end up the same (there's no one better suited to use against the final boss, after all), I'm limited in terms of characters who fit the genre, or the theme (that aren't already used, of course) for the starting Persona.

I did consider Edmond Dantes/The Count of Monte Cristo, or the Man in the Iron Mask; both people dedicated to toppling corruption and injustice through trickery, even at the risk of their lives . . . Heck, even Merlin might count - he is a legendary trickster, after all, and a certain rebellious spirit can certainly said to be present in those versions where he was "meant to be the Antichrist, but declined the honour." Not quite fitting with the theme, though, is it?

. . . I don't know - what do you guys think?

The choices are good, but the main problem that stay is that, unless the Demiurge/Grail has the power to cast a massive "Nothing magically suspect happen in Tokyo" and "The Phantom Thieves are only a live-action series" Fidelius, the magical Powers That Be would came like Thor's Hammer upon the whole mess (even the incident that started it all) to cover the secrecy of the supernatural.

The only way for the Trinity or the Seven to get caught in the P5 Plot is to use the "Voldemort's Last Fuck You! Plan" base and work with it.

[Kieran]

*Blinks* That's a bit out of left field . . .

As far as it goes, since the Metaverse is a "manifestation of the human unconscious," I'm operating on the idea that it's not really accessible on the magical side unless you're a Legilimens - which is, allegedly, a rare and obscure talent. And since it doesn't really qualify as spells, only its effects on the physical world are really noticeable - like the death of a Palace owner.

Likewise, as the game states, it's technologically accessible, but requires specialist equipment; and exactly what the Navigator App counts as, I leave up to the reader.

[MWkillkenny84]

*Blinks* That's a bit out of left field . . .

As far as it goes, since the Metaverse is a "manifestation of the human unconscious," I'm operating on the idea that it's not really accessible on the magical side unless you're a Legilimens - which is, allegedly, a rare and obscure talent. And since it doesn't really qualify as spells, only its effects on the physical world are really noticeable - like the death of a Palace owner.

Likewise, as the game states, it's technologically accessible, but requires specialist equipment; and exactly what the Navigator App counts as, I leave up to the reader.

The problem remain that Galen is a magical; and thus, the instant something like the background of the Trickster in P5 happen all he has to do is swear an oath that he had not do what the dick accuse him of having done, and good luck survive what the Aozaki sisters will do afterward to the dick for having tried to frame the best friend of the son of Touko and nephew of Aoko aka Scarlet Seven!Shirou.

Likewise, it does not matter if the Metaverse is magical hack-proof, the Mental Shutdowns caused by Akechi and the Changes of Hearts by the Phantom Thieves will make the Wizards go in force to Tokyo to investigate, and even if they can't enter the Metaverse they will find the connections between the cases and those involved.

A single dose of Veritaserum down Akechi's troath and uh-oh, Yaldabaoth will need to find a new pawn (the old one will be shipped to the Japanese equivalent of Azkaban or dead).

[Kieran]

April 20, 2003








The sun was shining through the closed curtains of Ai’s room—it wasn’t too bright yet, but it was shining. And it wasn’t really her room; her room was at home, and this was Gram-mama and Gram-papa’s house. But it was where she was sleeping, for now, because Mama and Papa wanted to spend Easter here, for family breakfast and an Easter egg hunt—

Easter! THE BUNNY!

The six-year-old sat bolt upright, suddenly remembering why it was important that she be awake. The Easter Bunny was supposed to have come last night, and left chocolate!

. . . Well, that was what Mama and Papa said. It had happened before. But she wasn’t quite sure, because some of the kids at school said there wasn’t an Easter Bunny, that it was parents who brought the chocolate. And none of the pictures she’d seen of the Bunny looked the same . . .

Though Papa said that was because the Bunny was very quiet and sneaky, so most people had to imagine what he looked like. Mama said he preferred to stay in woods and fields rather than streets and houses, so he didn’t always go to places where kids lived. It was why they were here; Gram-mama and Gram-papa lived in a big old house with a big backyard—they said there were plenty of places the Bunny would probably hide things.

And Ai was hoping she was up early enough to see him do it—bright enough to see, but still dark enough to be night.

As quietly as she could, the little girl slipped out of bed and began to tiptoe to her door. Carefully, she opened the door, and began tiptoeing down the hall, pausing at her parents’ room. Turning her head, she saw two big lumps under the covers of the bed—Mama and Papa. So if she saw the Bunny, it wasn’t Mama and Papa, it was really the real Easter Bunny!

. . . Wait—better check on Gram-mama and Gram-papa, too. And should she wake Sakura . . .?

No—it’d be easier to convince her little sister to follow her quietly if she found the Easter Bunny. But she should still check on Gram-mama and Gram-papa . . .

Once she’d satisfied herself that any Easter Bunny she found downstairs, if she found one, was really, really real, Ai started downstairs. There were a lot of stairs, and she had to be slow—so slow—because the stairs were old and creaky. But she knew all the squeaky spots, and how to be sneaky, so eventually, she found herself on the ground floor.

Now, where would the Easter Bunny hide things . . .?








There were big baskets on the dining room table that hadn’t been there when Ai went to bed, so somebody had been busy. She knew how to count, so she did——there were six of them, one for everybody. And each basket had a chocolate Easter Bunny in it; they looked yummy, but she wanted to find a real Easter Bunny, so she walked by them for now, looking for shiny things and colours that didn’t belong.

There were a few (and she’d remember them when Mama and Papa wanted them to hunt eggs later), but there weren’t many, which maybe meant that the Easter Bunny was still hiding them—and that meant she might see him! Excitement was bubbling up inside her at the thought—she couldn’t stop it, but she had to, because if she screamed or squealed like she wanted to, she’d scare the Easter Bunny, and then she’d never see him . . .!

Clapping her hands over her mouth, Ai tried very, very hard not to make any noise. It was hard to breathe, but she tried. She tried . . . And when she thought she had it under control, she kept looking. She hadn’t covered the whole house yet, so there was still a chance—

Ai passed through the living room, and froze.

Through the glass doors to the backyard patio, out on the grass, there he was!

The squeal was bubbling up inside her again, and Ai backed away, as quickly and quietly as she could—ears that big would hear her if she didn’t. Instead, as soon as she was out of sight, she ran back upstairs, until she was back up on the bedroom floor. Then, she did her best to whisper, instead of scream . . . But it was a loud whisper.

“GET UP, GET UP—THE EASTER BUNNY IS HERE!”








“Eath’ter Bunny . . .” Sakura lisped, her Veela-blue eyes wide with awe.

The four-year-old was standing still only because her father had a good grip on her, or else she’d have charged out there at full speed already. She loved furry things, and this was the biggest furry thing she’d ever seen in her life.

He had chocolate-brown fur and a fluffy white tail, and was wearing white gloves and a white collar, which had a purple tie hanging from it to match the hat on his head. There was a basket hanging from his arm, from which the Bunny would pull an egg and hide in a low place—or they’d float out of the basket, and into a high place, with a wave of his hand.

“Can’t we go see him?” Ai whispered, though it was very close to a whine. “Please?”

“Now, now, Ai-chan,” Ilya chided her gently. “You’re already seeing more of him than most people ever do. It would be greedy to ask for more. And you don’t want to be greedy—if you are, he might never come again.”

Quickly-muffled squeaks of denial and horror came from the girls—and outside, a long ear twitched.

Slowly, the Easter Bunny turned, revealing that he had a pink nose and big, bright blue eyes. He stood there, for a moment, nose twitching and ears flicking back and forth, and the two youngest girls in the room gasped, worried about what would happen next . . .

And then, one blue eye winked.

With a flick of his paw, two more eggs floated towards the glass door, each in their favourite colours. And as they set themselves on the patio table before it, the Bunny lifted his hat in farewell, turned away—and faded out, leaving a trail of golden sparkles to shimmer, briefly, behind.








“All right,” Kiritsugu asked his children, while Iris had their granddaughters hunting eggs far out of earshot—and with a few privacy charms up, for good measure. “What did you two do?”

“Do?” Ilya repeated innocently. “What are you talking about, Papa?”

“Well,” he said sardonically, “either there really is an Easter Bunny, or you somehow convinced someone—I’m guessing Galen, by the colouration—to take Polyjuice Potion catalysed with rabbit fur in order to convince the girls.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shirou retorted. “Not even Ilya has the power to convince him to wear a tie like that.”

A faint smile crossed Kiritsugu’s face.

“That's true,” he admitted. “So I suppose that I’ll have to start believing in the Easter Bunny . . .” He shook his head. “Or, that you two are officially the greatest parents in history.”

“If we were,” Shirou said dismissively, “it’s only because we had the best of examples.”

Kiritsugu shook his head. “No, you didn’t—unless you mean, ‘of what not to do.’”

“Sure we did, Papa,” Ilya countered. “Once you were allowed to try, at least.”

“. . . Believing in the Easter Bunny is easier.”








Writer's Notes: A belated Easter gift. I really, really wish I'd thought of this a couple of weeks sooner - and I decided we could all probably use a break from the serious snippets. Besides, Ai-chan is fun to write.

. . . Although, it occurs to me that this could be branched out into a Rise of the Guardians crossover . . .

[hatori]

i still say it's galen

[Kieran]

That's entirely possible, I suppose.

[Kieran]

A few hours later








He’d had to admit that he’d had a fun morning, despite starting at such an early hour—and an even more fun time watching children hunt for the eggs he’d hidden.

It really was amazing, Galen reflected, what an Unspeakable could get away with as long as the internal paperwork was properly filed.

Just as an example? He’d managed to snag a phial of extended-duration Polyjuice Potion and a Time-Turner, and a few hours of maintenance downtime on the Ministry’s magical detection system, all in the name of an experiment on “the metaphysical effects of first-hand observation on magical phenomena.” Translated from academic-speak, it was “what happens to magic when people actually see it”—and put simply, it was the opportunity and excuse to literally play Easter Bunny for a few hours, and brighten a few kids’ days in one way or another.

Croaker, he suspected, knew what was actually going on; nothing had actually been said that could be conclusively taken out of context, but there had been a few knowing looks after Christmas. And with no offense meant to Arthur Weasley’s intelligence, if he could figure it out, then the Head of the Department of Mysteries definitely could. The only—no, the most important—question was, what did he get out of not interfering . . .?

It was puzzling, true, but not a puzzle for the here and now. For now, Galen was content to rest on one of the hills in Ottery-St. Catchpole, hidden under the Deathcloak, as he waited for the Polyjuice to wear off. The day had been fun, however much hard work it had been, and even though dark clouds were rolling in—not unusual for spring—he took comfort in the fact that the cloak’s nature would keep him dry, and that they hadn’t arrived earlier, to spoil the egg hunts.

To be totally honest, he admitted to himself, being Santa was easier. I’m used to the fur, and the hearing, but the instincts . . .!

It wasn’t that he was unused to dealing with subconscious cues from a secondary set of animalistic instincts—quite the opposite, in fact—but in most cases, they were predator’s instincts, and rabbits were very much not. The conflict between the two viewpoints, and keeping a handle on their inputs, was a bit of a mental strain.

Luna, Galen decided, will probably handle this much better, if it happens again next year. I wonder if I could convince her, or the rest of them, to go for it? Easter’s not quite as big a deal as Christmas, after all . . . And what other holidays could we get away with? Something spooky but fun for Halloween, maybe? Not Valentine’s Day; love potions aren’t exactly what the holiday had in mind, and Neville’s the only one of us with the looks to pass for Cupid, even if in the more mythological sense. Not that any of us really want to see him in a diaper, or equivalent codpiece; though it might be funny to watch Ginny talk him into it—

Later on, Galen realised that if he hadn’t been suppressing his animal side so hard, he’d have seen it coming—maybe even sooner than usual, given how highly skittish the rabbit instincts in particular were. Certainly, the rabbit’s reflexes were the only reason he managed to dodge the initial strike—which was somewhat alarming, given that he felt himself shifting involuntarily from the moment he touched the ground.

. . . Then again, upon consideration the evidence suggested that it was likely the fact of his wearing the Deathcloak being the only reason he’d spotted the attack at all. And that was even more alarming, really.

Galen half-rolled, half-leaped into the air, infusing runes on his still-hidden wand sheath as he moved with magic and intent; the first, of course, to summon his wand itself, and the second—a more recent addition—to likewise summon his “battle gear,” and dismiss the Deathcloak to a slightly more hidden position. In most cases such as this, it allowed him to seem as though he’d appeared out of thin air; and with his knack for Apparition, it was usually dismissed as such, allowing the artefact’s presence and nature to remain secret.

To an outside observer, it was the Easter Bunny, or a reasonable facsimile, which left the ground . . . And a dragonhide-wearing, wand-wielding gunman who returned to it, scanning his surroundings.

His initial impression while in mid-flight had been of a shape: black, big, and smelling of horses and sand. Once he’d landed, Galen understood just how accurate that impression was—his attacker was a horse, formed of black sand, with sickly-yellow lights for eyes, gleaming malevolently. It was beautiful, in an eerie sort of way.

The fact that he could count at least sixty of them emerging from various darkened spots, on the other hand, was not.

“There you are!” proclaimed the sudden, menacing voice from the shadows, cool and velvet in tone, accompanied with a dramatically-perfect roll of thunder.

Its owner stepped into view, though not fully into the light, revealing a tall, shadow-complexioned figure that looked like the love-child of Neil Gaiman and Disney’s rendition of Hades, minus the blue flames. Certainly, the malicious smile displaying scraggly fangs lent to that impression, anyway, as he asked, “Do you like my nightmares, boy?

“I certainly hope so,” he added, after a beat, “because I’m about to introduce you to all of them.”

“Nightmares?” Galen asked in an innocent tone. “Interesting—I’ll have to give you an 8 out of 10, because it looks like you didn’t even try to go for the flaming manes or hooves.”

The stranger paused, and blinked. “What?”

“Likewise on the Voldemort impression,” the wizard continued, as if the other hadn’t spoken. “Now, to be fair, you’ve got a better voice than he ever did—seriously, if you don’t have a career in radio or voice-acting, look into it—but Voldemort doesn’t really have a link to nightmares. Still, I’m pretty sure we can’t find something in the Monster Manual to match that look; if nothing else, a few extra trinkets will let you pass for an appropriate demonologist or cultist . . .”

“Jokes?” the stranger said in sudden realisation. “You ruin my perfect plan to get rid of those meddlesome Guardians and reshape the world, and you have the audacity to make JOKES?”

Never had Galen been more grateful for his ability to parallel process, alongside his Occlumency training; it allowed him to try and figure out what the hell the guy was talking about, come to a few unpleasant possible conclusions in the process, and hide that reaction while replying dryly, “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

The stranger couldn’t exactly be said to turn a colour, precisely, but his face did take on a mottled texture, presumably representing fury as he glared. “You don’t—!”

He stopped suddenly, eyes suddenly going wide in disbelief. “You, you—don’t . . .” Galen had the impression of briefly being read by someone extremely well-versed in body language, because he himself could see the stranger take on an expression that was an equal mixture of awe and horror—a state that was only confirmed by the tone the other used next.

“Three hundred—THREE HUNDRED YEARS of planning, and work, utterly ruined—and you don’t even have the SLIGHTEST IDEA of what you’ve DONE!”

Voice laden with hysteria, the stranger seemed as though he would either cry, scream, or hit something at any moment—and that even he wasn’t sure which it would be.

“No . . .” Galen allowed, finally having come up with what he felt was a decent plan. “But I know Classical Greek.”

Even as the stranger’s lips began to form the question—

“ZEUS THE THUNDERER, YOUR JUDGMENT!”

It was a really bad thing that the stranger had brought all those storm clouds in his wake.

For him, anyway.

[Xamusel]

Kieran, something I should mention... you outdid yourself, again!

[Kieran]

Well, thank you.

As noted by the "Crossovers That Should Not Be" addition to the title, I fear that the Trinity are probably ultimately too powerful (and violent) for the Rise of the Guardians world - but I do approve of the setting, and think that there is crossover potential.

I think that's a nice way to cap it, though; and now that that's dealt with, maybe I can finally starting getting my next chapter ideas for the actual story "on paper," as it were.

. . . Assuming, of course, that I can get rid of the nagging little voice that says that if wizards impersonated a lot of the gods (as according to Rowling's lore), there's a possibility of the Dark Lord Kratos showing up at one of those immortals' balls I invented . . . *Sighs*

[Kieran]

Continuing . . .



Emiya Residence, Fuyuki
July 7, 2018








“Well, now,” the red-clad Servant drawled, staring across the room. “This is certainly unexpected—I seem to have a knack for drawing terrifying Masters.”

In actuality, he was far less calm than he appeared, and swiftly cataloguing details. None of his previous records held mentions of a situation that was anything like this, and that would be worrying enough on its own . . .

“Sempai . . .!” protested the woman he was addressing, her blush deepening. Despite clearly being an adult, she acted like the Japanese schoolgirl he remembered—which made her white hair all the more disturbing.

Nothing good had ever happened to him (or anyone in the general area of, say, Fuyuki City) when Sakura Matou had white hair.

Still, there was no sign of the red eyes or black veins that signified extreme Grail corruption and her eyes were clear, if fixated on him with a mildly disturbing intensity—which, according to those previously-mentioned records, wasn’t too far off his teenage experiences, actually.

He’d just only ever noticed it as Archer . . .

“It’s good to see you again, Sempai,” Sakura said softly, her violet eyes glistening with not-quite-shed tears.

The Counter Guardian known as EMIYA did his best to put a genuine smile on his face, and answered warmly, “It’s good to see you, too, Sakura-chan.” He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “But I was under the impression that the Grail System had been dismantled after the Fifth War . . .?”

“. . . It was discussed,” Sakura admitted, “but there was a faction that thought with the corrupted Grail and the source of its corruption destroyed, it might be safe to try again, after a thorough examination and overhaul of the system.” Her eyes flicked to one side as colour rose in her cheeks. “I might have been one of the major proponents.”

Archer stared. “After everything you went through because of the Grail War . . . Sakura, why?”

“Because you never came back, Sempai,” Sakura said sharply. “Even though you promised . . .” She smiled, but there was a hollowness to it that unnerved him. “And this way, I can make sure you keep it.”

Archer felt a shiver travel down his spine, certain that his original belief had been affirmed.

Nothing good ever happened to him when Sakura Matou had white hair.








Outside Fuyuki
July 7, 2018







“Well,” Ritsuka remarked, “nothing’s on fire, for a change—that’s a good sign, right?”

In her Shielder persona, Mash was too professional to giggle; her Master’s comment did elicit a small smile, however.

“We do seem to appear in mid-disaster more often than not, it’s true,” she admitted. “But this will be tricky, Sempai—we don’t know which Servant Foreigner is, after all.”

“Which could mean that we have to deal with all of them,” the Master sighed. “That’s just terrific . . .” He blinked at a sudden thought, and turned to Shielder with a grin. “On the other hand, based on our other experiences, Foreigner should be easy to spot if they get into a fight with one of the other Servants; all we have to do is watch for the tentacles!”

Mash would deny the squeak that left her lips in response to that statement until her dying day.

That her face went beet-red, on the other hand, would be on Chaldea’s mission recordings forever.








Writer's Notes: The actual chapter is approximately 10% written, and 50% planned - so, actual progress is finally being made.

[MWkillkenny84]

... the tentacle comment is completely unfair to both Abigail and the other Foreign-class Servants.

[Kieran]

. . . In all honesty, though - it might be unfair, but so far as I can tell, it is accurate.

[MWkillkenny84]

. . . In all honesty, though - it might be unfair, but so far as I can tell, it is accurate.

The way Ritsuka said it made it seems as they are doing it on purpose, instead of the tentacles being more-or-less a collateral effect of their contact with Outer Gods and/or related creatures.

Now, Caster!Gilles De Rais, on the other hand, with him it is intentional...

[Kieran]

It's a side effect, yes; so far, however, it's a consistent one. Therefore, Ritsuka reasons (at least half-seriously), any Servant they encounter with tentacles will probably be the one they're looking for . . .

. . . And I can't seem to get the video I posted in my prior response to work - phooey.

[Xamusel]

I dunno... I got the video to play for me over here.

[Kieran]

12 Grimmauld Place, London
July 22, 2011








It began, as so many great things do, with something small: the sound of a crack.

It was not, as was frequently heard around that particular house, the crack of Apparition. Nor was it, as was less frequently (though still often) heard, the crack of thunder. No, this was the sound of stone suddenly and violently splitting apart—and unexpectedly so.

Still, under normal circumstances, the event and its subsequent damage would’ve gone unnoticed for a significant period of time. The owner of the item in question was not present at the time, after all, nor was it one that the owner used or monitored frequently. However, this particular crack, while small in size and volume, was literally loud enough to wake the dead.

After all, many great things—terrible, yes, but great—begin with something small . . .








Ilya blinked as the calm, measured tone of Hermione Granger—specifically, the tone that said she was a hair’s-breadth from exploding into a shrieking banshee—came over her phone.

“Ilya,” the vampire witch demanded, “would you care to tell me how—and why, exactly—I am looking at the bloody Soul Stone?”

At any other time, Ilya might’ve been torn between amusement and terror; after all on the one hand, she was a magus and a Master, but on the other, Hermione had both the creativity to invent a spell to allow her to strangle someone over the phone, and the instincts to use it. However, she was a bit distracted by what Hermione had actually said.

“‘Soul Stone?’” the half-Veela repeated. “Do you mean as in, the Infin—”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Hermione hissed. “Leaving aside the fact that it’s not supposed to be where I found it, how did you miss this?”

“I don’t know,” Ilya said tightly. “But given those things, I wouldn’t be surprised if they could pull an end-run around a Holy Grail—even the Holy Grail.”

“That’s not good,” was the flat response.

“. . . Hermione? Where did you find it, exactly?”

“It was inside the bloody Deathstone. The black rock was just a shell—some kind of worthiness test, the thing says—and the whole thing just suddenly came apart . . . And it’s been asking for Takara ever since.”

“. . . She didn’t cause it?” Ilya said, her already-high panic levels suddenly spiking well beyond the proverbial stratosphere.

“. . . No,” Hermione answered, with dawning horror as she reached the same conclusion. “Oh, no . . .”

The Infinity Stones, after all, were naturally drawn to one another, like magnets—and the effect was concentrated, the more of them one gathered together . . .








Writer's Notes: *Grumbles* Dealing with the mess a windstorm left us curtailed my writing time; and even something as short and simple as this was annoying as heck to write, while making sure it was spoiler-free. Sorry for it.