Probably who share the bed with their master tonight.Originally Posted by Lycodrake
Signum and Reinforce Eins disagreeing on...something
Only for Vita to trumps them both
Probably who share the bed with their master tonight.Signum and Reinforce Eins disagreeing on...something
Only for Vita to trumps them both
Underneath the Stars
Spoiler:
Spoiler:
It seems that Vita decided to make some changes to Graf Eisen after watching a certain giant mecha show.
"Bring it goldielocks."
I've got a bit more done - the rest should be done by either later tonight or sometime tomorrow. Comments and such, etc. You know the deal.
==========
Vaizen. TSAB Administered World Number 3, and home of Caledfwlch Techniques. Gateway to Mid-Childa. The civil war has dragged into its fourth war, with horrendous casualties on both sides. Still, the end is in sight - if the CoW can take and hold onto this world, then they will be able to launch a direct assault on the headquarters of the TSAB itself.
Unfortunately, the assault force had stalled, and now they were pulling back, trying to shorten the front they had to defend.
"Shirou," Hayate had told him. "I need you to hold your position until our forces finish their withdraw. The Wolkenritter are tied up defending..." There had been the loud sounds of an explosion. "...defending headquarters. I need you to do this."
And so he held his position, even as the rest of the army retreated around him. So far, not a single enemy had challenged his position. Apparently none were willing to risk the wrath of "Yagami's Attack Dog", as the latest news reports from Mid-Childa had called him. Oh, how he hated those names...
Then suddenly, a challenger appears. A speck of black and gold against the green of the hilltops.
"Sleipnir," he says, and black feathery wings sprout from his back even as he rises to meet the intruder. It is someone he recognizes. "Fate Testarossa. How kind of you to visit."
She snarls at him wordlessly, and slashes at him with Bardiche, which is already in Riot Zanber form. He drifts left, not even bothering to block the overhead swing, and the yellow blade misses him by a hairsbreadth.
"Why are you so angry at me, Testarossa?" he asks. He receives no reply, and, instead, Fate slashes at him even more viciously. This time, twin black-and-white blades materialize in his hands, and he parries the blow.
"Don't call me Testarossa," she hisses, as she breaks off. "You monster! You have no right to call me by that name. How can you live with yourself after slaughtering so many people?" She swings again and again, and is blocked at every turn. "Why?" she asks him, between blows. "Why do you kill?"
He smiles. "The people you call comrades are my enemies. It is their job to impede me, just as it is my duty to remove their impediment. This is no children's game like it was before, Testarossa, where defeat means friendship and every attack is nonlethal. No. This is war. Fight for your life, Testarossa, because I fight for mine."
Fate has pulled back a bit now, to build up momentum for another pass, and he lets the twin black and white dao in his hands fall to the ground. She knows she has no chance of winning at range, not against the master of the Tome of the Night Sky. She has to finish this fast.
Trace, on.
He knows what blade it'll be even before it materializes in his hands. It's the holy blade of a paladin who fell in defence of his liege. Durandal. There will be undoubtedly be reinforcements behind her... Hopefully he will fare better than this blade's previous owner.
"Strike true," he whispers, even as Fate swings back around. The blade glows, as if to acknowledge his command, and, even as Fate charges at him, he throws.
She lets out a strangled gasp as she skewers herself on the sword with her own momentum. It sinks into her chest up the the hilt, and she falls out of the sky.
He grimaces. He can smell the blood with his reinforced senses, even from here. There are others now, on the horizon, no doubt intent on avenging their comrade's defeat. Even if she doesn't die from the blood loss, it's at least a mission kill. No need to worry about her again for quite some time. But perhaps he can check on her before he retreats?
He sighs, even as he calls up Archer's bow. This is not a good time to worry about the fallen. All that can wait until this fight is over - the battlefield is no place for philosophy, after all.
Still, as he fires at the unlucky mages of the Bureau, he cannot help but whisper. Hate it though he might, Fate's words have struck a chord within him. "Hayate," he mutters, even as screams of pain and fear rend the air. "How many more must I kill?"
Last edited by enthalpy; July 23rd, 2012 at 08:47 PM.
天下大势,合久必分,分久必合。
Damn.
Grimderp senses tingling.
Spoiler:
Same. :/
F/GO SUPPORT
Meh seems I am the only one to enjoy this
You make lurkers such as myself feel sad for being left out in conversations.
Spoiler:
What Fate/Stay Night character are you?
Kotomine Kirei
You are Kirei. You've always been a little different from the rest. You probably have low social skills. Whatever, it's not like what they think matters anyway. Ever searching for something missing within you, you probably don't experience the same happiness as everyone else. Good and evil are just labels, you are who you are.
My bad at least I said seems to show just because it looks that way does not necessarily mean it's true. Still if you like it try to support the author.
It's missing all of the stuff that follows after it. This is the low point. Well, it should be, at least, if I wrote it correctly.
天下大势,合久必分,分久必合。
All we need is fukaki nemuri in the background as Fate dies to make the scene epic.
Grimderp senses on full alert now.
Spoiler:
Who cares about that, really...
His previous snippets were interesting, so if the one he's working on won't be, we'll complain about it then.
“Evil or not, I refuse to accept this 'fate'.”
Spoiler:
Looks interesting.
I'm still not entirely satisfied with the parts about Reinforce and Hayate, but I'm not really making any progress on this, and I have other things to work on, so here it is. And, of course, there's the obligatory joke in black text at the very end, if you care for such things.
==========
In the eighty-first year of the TSAB, thirty worlds rose up in revolt. They declared themselves to have removed themselves from the aegis of the TSAB, and formed a new governing body, the Congress of Worlds. They were joined in their rebellion by three separate fleets and nearly forty percent of the TSAB's standing army.
The TSAB objected most vociferously.
The resulting war was henceforth referred to as the "Third Dimensional Civil War", although it was hardly 'civil'. It was short and vicious - even though it only lasted five years, casualties on both sides were appalling. It was a war which, in many cases, pitted brother against brother, sister against sister, friend against friend.
By all accounts, the war should have been over in days. The rebel army was outnumbered almost two to one on the ground, and the TSAB had kept nearly all of its naval assets. But the TSAB was unprepared for war. No one in the upper echelons had seriously believed that a rebellion of this scale would ever occur. Much of its forces were tied up on garrison duty, and, by the time it mobilized its reserves, the CoW had already achieved parity.
Even then, the TSAB might have won - it still controlled the core, industrialized worlds, and its population base was an order of magnitude larger. To this day, the CoW's victory is attributed to one thing and one thing only - the defection of the majority of Special Operations Force Six. When the SOF left, it took with it hundreds of the most skilled powerful mages in the TSAB's employ.
Under the guidance of Hayate Yagami, and freed from their police duty, they quickly became notorious for their unorthodox fighting style and their ability to show up at the most inconvenient times and places. Soon enough, they gained a reputation fearsome enough that some TSAB units would flee upon contact.
Among the ranks of SOF Six, there was perhaps one person whose name inspired terror in friend and foe enough, one person who carved a bloody trail through the history books. His name was Shirou Emiya.
He has the dubious honor of having the highest kill count of any soldier in contemporary times, even rivalling that of the Sankt Kaiser Olivie Segbrecht herself. Always accompanied by the Wolkenritter, he was consistently the first in to every combat situation and the last out.
The CoW said he was a hero of the people, and the presses told stories of his brave deeds, day and night.
The TSAB said he was a war criminal, and placed a bounty on his head.
They called him a murderer and a martyr, and, in the end, he was both, and neither.
~ Excerpt from Blue Sky, White Sun: The Story of Special Operations Force Six
==========
Vaizen. TSAB Administered World Number 3, and home of Caledfwlch Techniques. Gateway to Mid-Childa. The civil war has dragged into its fourth war, with horrendous casualties on both sides. Still, the end is in sight - if the CoW can take and hold onto this world, then they will be able to launch a direct assault on the headquarters of the TSAB itself.
Unfortunately, the initial assault had failed to take the planet, and Hayate's forces had stalled. Now they were pulling back, trying to shorten the length of front they had to defend.
"Shirou," Hayate had said to him. "I need you to hold your position until our forces finish their withdraw. The Wolkenritter are tied up defending..." There had been the crackling boom of an explosion and loud shouts, and it was a long moment before Hayate spoke again. "...defending headquarters. I need you to do this."
And so he held his position, even as the rest of the army retreated around him. So far, not a single enemy had challenged his position. Apparently none were willing to risk the wrath of "Yagami's Attack Dog", as the latest news reports from Mid-Childa had called him. Oh, how he hated those names...
Then suddenly, a challenger appears. A speck of black and gold against the green of the hilltops.
"Sleipnir," he says, and black feathery wings sprout from his back even as he rises to meet the intruder. It is someone he recognizes. "Fate Testarossa. How kind of you to visit."
She snarls at him wordlessly, and slashes at him with Bardiche, which is already in Riot Zanber form. He drifts left, not even bothering to block the overhead swing, and the yellow blade misses him by a hairsbreadth.
"Why are you so angry at me, Testarossa?" he asks. He receives no reply, and, instead, Fate slashes at him even more viciously. This time, twin black-and-white blades materialize in his hands, and he parries the blow.
"Don't call me Testarossa," she hisses, as she breaks off. "You monster! You have no right to call me by that name. How can you live with yourself after slaughtering so many people?" She swings again and again, and is blocked at every turn. "Why?" she asks him, between blows. "Why do you kill?"
He smiles. "The people you call comrades are my enemies. It is their job to impede me, just as it is my duty to remove their impediment. This is no children's game like it was before, Testarossa, where defeat means friendship and every attack is nonlethal. No. This is war. Fight for your life, Testarossa, because I fight for mine."
Fate has pulled back a bit now, to build up momentum for another pass, and he lets the twin black and white dao in his hands fall to the ground. She knows she has no chance of winning at range, not against the master of the Tome of the Night Sky. She has to finish this fast.
Trace, on.
He knows what blade it'll be even before it materializes in his hands. It's the holy blade of a paladin who fell in defence of his liege. Durandal. There will be undoubtedly be reinforcements behind her... Hopefully he will fare better than this blade's previous owner.
"Strike true," he whispers, even as Fate swings back around. The blade glows, as if to acknowledge his command, and, even as Fate charges at him, he throws.
She lets out a strangled gasp as she skewers herself on the sword with her own momentum. It sinks into her chest up the the hilt, and she falls out of the sky, tumbling and spinning with the wind.
He grimaces. He can smell the blood with his reinforced senses, even from here. There are others now, on the horizon, no doubt intent on avenging their comrade's defeat. Even if she doesn't die from the blood loss, it's at least a mission kill. No need to worry about her again for quite some time. But perhaps he can check on her before he retreats?
He sighs, even as he calls up Archer's bow. This is not a good time to worry about the fallen. All that can wait until this fight is over - the battlefield is no place for philosophy, after all.
Still, as he fires at the unlucky mages of the Bureau, he cannot help but whisper. Hate it though he might, Fate's words have struck a chord within him. "Hayate," he mutters, even as screams of pain and fear rend the air. "How many more must I kill?"
==========
Signum is troubled. She is the one who understands Shirou the best. Among the Wolkenritter, not even Rein can claim to have as deep of an understanding of their master as she. Perhaps it is becaause of his nature. She is a swordswoman. She knows blades - they are her calling, after all. And is Shirou not a sword himself?
Even as she fights off the suicidal attack on General Yagami's field headquarters, she has this feeling that somehow, something is not quite right. And as she flies off to cover her master's retreat, this feeling only grows.
It is not until she actually sees him, though, that she understands the reason behind this. He is carrying an unconscious, and, from the looks of it, a half-dead Fate Harlaown. And embedded in her chest is the Durandal, the sword of Roland.
In her spare time, she has studied the legends and histories of the land she now calls home, and Shirou's use of this blade... It disturbs her on a visceral level. Roland, in the end, died in a desperate last stand, and his situation is uncomfortably close to something that Shirou might do.
She realizes, of course, on an intellectual level, that Shirou will someday grow old and die. But it is not something she has dwelled upon, and for good reason. But this... sword, and the stories associated with it, only serves to hammer this truth into her heart.
"Shirou," she greets.
"Signum," he returns, with a smile. "I'm glad you're safe."
"Go," she tells him. "I'll cover you."
He nods gratefully, and flies off, the back of his shirt dripping with blood which is not his own. And she cannot help but watch. It is all too easy to imagine Shirou being the one with the sword through his chest, gasping for breath even as he lies dying on some forgotten battlefield...
She shakes her head forcefully. No. Her master is safe. There is no reason, no reason at all to worry.
Shirou has done so much for her, so much for all of the Wolkenritter. It seems as if her contributions to his safety pale next to the sheer weight of what he has done for her and her family.
And even as she chases after her master, the man she would die for in an instant, the person she loves above any other, she cannot help but shiver, and imagine... No. She has devoted herself to Shirou's protection. She must not fail in this self-imposed duty. She will not fail. She must never fail.
==========
Shamal is troubled. She is the one who understands Shirou the best. Among the Wolkenritter, not even Signum can claim to have as deep of an understanding of their master as she. It is only right that this is so - of the cloud knights, she is the one who heals and nurtures, the one who takes up the plowshare instead of the sword. And is it not said that the doctor knows her patients best?
But even as she heals the wounded from the Bureau's suicidal attack on Hayate's headquarters, she has this feeling that somehow, something is not quite right. And even as Signum flies off to find their master, this feeling only grows.
It is not until she actually sees him, though, that she understands the reason behind this. He is carrying an unconscious Fate Harlaown, who, from the looks of it, seems to be near death. And embedded in her chest is the Durandal, the sword of Roland.
Signum has told her of her forays into the legends of their new home, and the story of Roland is one of the few which she still remembers to this day. It simply struck home in a way that few of the others had. It is not a story she particularly likes - the tales of blood and battle are ill-suited for healers, after all, but that last stand is uncomfortably close to something Shirou might do.
She has always had a feeling that someday, Shirou would fall in battle, far away from her healing touch. This sword and this story associated with it serve only to bring this feeling to the surface. It is not something she would prefer to dwell on.
"Shirou," she greets. "Are you hurt?"
"Shamal," he replies, with a smile, "I'm fine. You should check on Fate. She's a lot worse off than I am."
"Go," she tells him, after casting a quick diagnostic spell. "I'll take care of her."
He nods gratefully, and walks off, the back of his shirt caked with drying blood that is not his own. And even as she works to stabilize the dying girl, she cannot help but think of that shirt. How many patients has she failed to save? With each death that has occurred under her watch, she has felt more and more guilty. Failure, she thinks, each time. I failed yet again.
She shakes her head forcefully. No. It was not my fault. There was nothing more I could have done.
Shirou has done so much for her, so much for all of the Wolkenritter. It seems as if her contributions to his safety pale next to the sheer weight of what he has done for her and her family.
And even as she works on saving that girl he brought in, she thinks of her master, the man she would die for in an instant, the person she loves above any other, she cannot help but shiver, and imagine... No. She has sworn to heal her master, no matter how grievous his injuries. She must not fail in this self-imposed duty. She will not fail. She must never fail.
==========
Vita is troubled. She is the one who understands Shirou the best. Among the Wolkenritter, not even Shamal can claim to have as deep of an understanding of their master as she. After all, they are kindred spirits. Her job is to break and shatter, to pierce through walls, no matter how strong, through sheer brute force. And is that not an apt description of what Shirou does best?
But even as she fends off the Bureau's pointless attack on Hayate's field headquarters, she has this feeling that somehow, something is not quite right. And even as Signum flies off to find their master, this feeling only grows.
It is not until she actually sees him, though, that she understands the reason behind this. He is carrying an unconscious Fate Harlaown, who, from the looks of it, seems to be near death. And embedded in her chest is the Durandal, the sword of Roland.
She has asked Shirou before, to tell her stories of brave knights and fair maidens, to let her have the childhood she never had. And so he had. Germany, Japan, Russia, China... he had scoured countless books and tomes to find more and more tales to relate to her. And she has remembered them all. Let it never be said that Vita does not treasure what she few memories she has of a kinder world. She remembers them all, and the story of Roland is no exception. She hates that story, hates it with a burning passion. It is anathema to her. It stands counter to everything she stands for, for it is a story about a man tried to break an obstacle, and shattered himself in the process.
But despite this hatred, she knows. Someday, there will be a barrier that Shirou seeks to break, a wall that he seeks to shatter, a hurdle he seeks to leap. And he will fail, and in the process, chip and shatter just as Roland had in that story. It is not something she likes to think about.
"Shirou," she greets, after Shamal finishes checking him over. "You all right?"
"Vita," he replies, with a smile. "I'm glad you're all right."
"Come on," she tells him, latching on to his arm. "Let's go home. Hayate's granted all of us two days of leave. She figures you could use some time off."
He nods gratefully, and walks off, Vita still clinging to his side. She can smell the scent of blood on his body, even if his shirt is crisp and pristine. It is a thick, cloying smell, and it never quite goes away. How many people has he killed? How much blood is on his hands? No matter how much death and destruction she may have caused in her past incarnations, it no doubt pales before what Shirou has done. But there is perhaps one most important question. How long until Shirou meets someone he can't kill? Something he can't break?
She shakes her head forcefully. No. Best not to think about that. No sense in ruining a vacation with dark thoughts, after all...
Shirou has done so much for her, so much for all of the Wolkenritter. It seems as if her contributions to his safety pale next to the sheer weight of what he has done for her and her family.
And even as she laughs and giggles at Shirou's jokes, once more the little girl she could never be, she thinks of her master, the man she would die for in an instant, the person she loves above any other, she cannot help but shiver and imagine... No. She is the knight of the hammer. She will smash everything in her master's way. She must not fail in this self-imposed duty. She will not fail. She must never fail.
==========
Reinforce is troubled. She is the one who understands Shirou the best. Among the Wolkenritter, not even Vita can claim to have as deep of an understanding of their master as she. Who else can say that they have inhabited his very body, walked among his thoughts and dreams? In some sense, she was Shirou, if only for a brief few years. There can be no closer connection than that.
But even as she sits at home, waiting for Shirou's safe return, she has this feeling that somehow, something is not quite right. And even as she hears Hayate's brief message detailing the particulars of Shirou's leave, and rushes off to make frantic preparations for his return, this feeling only grows.
But it is not until dinner that night that she understands the reason behind this. He has yet again done what would be impossible for any other. And from what Signum tells her, he has called upon Durandal, that accursed blade, to do it.
She knows the story behind every single blade in that vault that Shirou calls his soul. It is rare that she is called upon to fight with Shirou (and how she hates how she is always the one left behind), but every single time she unisons with him, she treads upon that barren wasteland, and she knows. And it is the histories of blades like Durandal that stay with her the longest. Sometimes, she wishes she didn't know, wishes that she could simply smile and be awed at the swords of such fine craftsmanship that Shirou produces. But it is far, far too late for that.
Reinforce knows. She knows how Shirou is a sword himself. She knows far too much about swords now to forget that any sword will inevitably break. Swords are only metal, after all. They will rust, and chip, and shatter. And Shirou is no exception.
"Shirou," she says that night, just before she falls asleep. "I'm worried about you."
"Rein," he replies affectionately, with a tired smile. "I'll be fine. As long as you're safe."
"And that is why I'm worried," she says.
He nods gratefully. "Thank you," he says, running his fingers through her long hair. He's telling the truth, and that makes it all the harder to accept. Shirou will do anything to ensure his family's safety - especially hers - and she hates it. For once she wishes that he would let her fight, but it is a hopeless endeavor. She knows him all too well, after all. But Shirou is a sword. Some day, he will try to cut something that cannot be sundered, and then he will himself be sundered.
She sighs. No. She shouldn't dwell on such thoughts. For now, they have each other, and that is enough. But still the thought lingers.
Shirou has done so much for her, so much for those she calls her family. How could she possibly contribute something of worth, compared to that which he has given her? Someday, he will break, and then no amount of effort could possibly hope to put the pieces back together. What will she do then?
And even as she falls asleep contentedly by his side, she dwells on this question. And in the end she comes up with nothing. All she can do for now is wait and hope - hope that the war comes to an end soon, that Shirou and his knights will return, safe and sound, that she can finally live in peace with her family once all this is said and done. And she does.
==========
Hayate is the one who understands Shirou the best. Even the Wolkenritter cannot claim to have as deep of an understanding of their master as she. She, unlike them, is human, and so she can truly understand just how deeply Shirou's distortion runs. It is because of this understanding that she has always tried to help Shirou where she could. After all, he certainly needs whatever help he can get.
But even as she's desperately trying to command with the soldiers that she commands while simultaneously fending off a Bureau air raid, she has this feeling that someohow, something is not right. And even as she works to pave the way for assault to regain lost territory, this feeling only grows.
It is not until she finally get around to reviewing footage of Shirou's fight, long after the headquarters complex has been locked down for the night, though, that she understands the reason behind this. Hayate watches as Durandal materializes in Shirou's hands, watches as he spits his former colleague upon that sword, watches as he lets her fall to earth.
She knows the story behind most of Shirou's blades - even though he may be reluctant to tell her their stories, she at least knows their names and abilities. It is her business to know. She is his commanding officer, and in order to be able to lead him effectively, she must know what Shirou is or isn't able to do. Durandal. Grants three miracles. Wielded by the paladin Roland, who used it to make a heroic last stand...
Hayate doesn't know why Shirou chose that particular sword, but its choice stands out to her. The parallels are there, and connections between the two situations are easily made. Perhaps it is indicative of some psychological disorder? Well, she already knew that. She's tried psychiatric treatment before, but it's failed miserably. Even Shamal has given up on trying to "fix" him. Thankfully, Shirou has mellowed quite a bit from what he was before. Otherwise she would be genuinely worried.
But still, it is a dangerous trend. Perhaps she'll need to speak with him about unnecessary risks at some point, if just to make sure he understands...
Shirou is a sword. It is his Origin, after all, the guiding force which defines his existence. And swords can be damaged, all too easily. Maybe, then, she should give him and his family a month or so of rest and relaxation. But can she afford to have him away from the front for so long?
Hayate sighs and leans back in her chair. She hate having to make these decisions.
A long, long time ago, she looked up to Nanoha as a paragon, as a symbol of all that was right and good in the world. Back then, there was only black and white, and friendship could solve every problem. She's long since left those days behind, though. The world is a harsh place, and it is filled with hundreds of shades of grey, and it is only thanks to the Holy Grail War that she learned this lesson.
It has been a long, hard road since then. She's crawled up the chain of command, one step at a time. In the process, she's been presented with awards and accolades. But what does she truly have to show for her work?
She is jealous, she supposes. Yes. Jealous of Shirou. They were both orphans, who living alone in the world, without any family to speak of. But where Shirou had built a family of his own, she has nothing, save for a spartan apartment, barely lived in.
She's not exactly getting any younger, and sometimes she wishes that Shirou would look at her, if not as a woman, then at least as... family. Yes, that would be nice. Family.
Hayate grimaces and turns back to her work. There's no point in wallowing in self-pity. She has chosen this for herself. It is by her own decision that she walks this path.
She wonders, though. When the battles are all over, when there is nothing left to fight, what will she do?
No. There is no point worrying about things which are yet to come. For now, she has a war to win. One step at a time, right?
But even as she works into the early hours in the morning, she cannot help but wonder. Where does she go from here?
==========
Isn't it sad, Zafira?
Last edited by enthalpy; July 24th, 2012 at 09:14 PM.
天下大势,合久必分,分久必合。
All four think they know him best...or know him best in a different way.
That...that is a very interesting direction to take this. I honestly enjoy the thoughts you put into each section. Nice work.
F/GO SUPPORT
...
Zafira gets no love. The poor wolfie.
But seirously now, I think this was pretty interesting with the way you explored how one action is viewed differently, yet in a parallel fashion by the thoughts of the four different people that love Shirou and each believe they understand him the best.
Wow, That was pretty good....I'm speechless.
In a sense they love him deeply though whether intimate like a lover or kindly like family is a bit blurred for me when I'm reading this however I feel it reaches the goal which is set out to do.
Though the no mention of Zafria makes me feel sad for him.
Teasing the Penguin God!
Highlight the last line of my post, below the last set of equal signs. It's hidden because of the potential for mood whiplash. :3
天下大势,合久必分,分久必合。
Really?
*Check*
WHIPPED!
Teasing the Penguin God!
