middaeg | [Closed] The Moon is Bright

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[Closed] The Moon is Bright

Who: Saber, Gilgamesh, Zelda (botw)
When: 3/8 - 3/9
Where: The City
What: Saber McFuckin' loses it during the full moon and runs into two very different people.
Warnings: Fighting, blood, NSFW shenanigans

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Saber has felt pent up and tense throughout most of the day. It’s crept up on her over the course of the week and it finally feels as if it’s coming to some sort of head as the day fades to night and she’s left facing around the small room in the barracks that she’s still using as temporary housing. There isn’t much to it. A few steps to the wall, turn, a few steps to the wall, turn, repeat. There’s just a sense of being trapped, of being cooped up, of having no outlet for some sort of frothing, churning, indescribable feeling inside of her. She doesn’t like it at all and she senses - somewhat - that this is what they’ve been talking about.

The full moon.

She had thought she would be able to ride it out, but it intensifies and gets worse and worse with each passing moment as darkness settles and the moon starts to rise outside. She’s vibrating inside of her own skin,hands flexing and relaxing, as she tries to sort out what she’s going to do. She can’t think clearly. She can’t focus. There’s just the burning need to move, to do something, to sink her fingers into flesh and tear until her nails are worn down to the nub.

To her credit, she holds herself in check for a short while. She refuses to leave her room, even when the feeling of being trapped intensifies and she begins to slam her fist into the wall, the bedframe, anything to get the energy out. None of it works and she can feel herself starting to spiral - a red haze that seems to cover everything, filtering everything into fight or flight.

Edited 2020-03-08 03:00 (UTC)

Finally, it seems as though it is time for something interesting to happen.

It is not the first full moon Gilgamesh has been through since arriving in Aefenglom, but it is the first in which he has truly taken note of the changes occurring among the more Monstrous of the Mirrorbound. All at once, those promised animalistic traits cannot be contained, and men and women seem to be reverting in real time to lower evolutionary states. All around him, it is as though he were witnessing a reversion to the Age of the Gods. Gilgamesh, being naturally sensitive as a Servant to certain environmental changes, might also be susceptible in his original status to a mood alteration, but here, humanized as he is, he has been removed from those spiritual psychological influences.

The crackle of magic in the air, however, is another matter. For those who have not Bonded, the magic in their bodies seems to have nowhere to go. It is all but spilling over -- spilling through them and into the atmosphere itself. Thick, heavy, like pollution. Gilgamesh does not know whether he finds this entertaining in a darkly visceral way or whether he thinks it is all a waste, and unsightly.

This is not a dull or boring night, to be certain. The energy in the air spurs him out and his apathy and ennui abate as he walks alone with his thoughts under the heavy light of the moons. The spring air is cool and invigorating. The evening is deceptively quiet save for the night sounds of insects, distant frogs, footfalls on the ground, and the rising wind. And yet that tension remains, and he finds himself straining to hear whether something moves around with animal scratching within the barracks.

Were he a little savvier to his other summonings, the King might think this night has all the sensation of a Grail War gone awry and all the low-key menacing aura thereof... in which case, his being out in back alleys has a tendency of not ending particularly pleasantly for him.

As it is, however, he only knows with increasing certainty that hears something from that direction -- an indistinctly sized creature, or could the Monster still have something of a human mind?

There it is again: the thump-thump-thump of someone throwing their body or fist against the wall.

He pauses, looking in that direction with the slightest interest and evaluating whether he should pursue any investigation on this matter, and to what end it would be pertinent were he to do so. Perhaps a hapless being should be left alone... although on the other hand, if there is amusement or entertainment or intrigue to be found... well...

She can't stay inside anymore. She can't stay in this tiny room. Every instinct is screaming at her to get out, because this is a trap and if she stays here, she'll be stuck. So she slams open the door to her room and goes stalking down the hallway toward the barracks exit. She doesn't seem to pay attention to her surroundings. All she wants to do is get out. Once she's in the open air, some of the panic lessens, but she's still under that red mist, jaw set. The full moon is overhead and it shines down on her. There's an itching under her fingernails that she can't fix and she desperately scratches at one arm and then the other as she breaks into a jog.

She doesn't know where she's going. Just that she has to go.

She ducks down one street and then another, moving faster now, her boots clattering on the cobblestones.

There is no mistaking that sound. Those hard, rhythmic footsteps certainly do not belong to a beast.

Perhaps Gilgamesh should be more attuned to Saber after they fought together during the Wilders journey at the Northern Outpost, but the city is another context entirely. The sounds and the threats here are new ones. Peering into the darkness, he hears the approaching clatter. The sound echoes ominously through the dark. Of course, as the man he is, he gives no hint of vulnerability, but continues to look on with only a vague expression of interest.

What poor unfortunate soul might be out and about and stirred up to such desperate motions? Still, he does not address this roaming shadow with any greeting or questions. It may be a stranger or it may not be, but either way, he turns and focuses some attention upon the direction of the commotion, mentally readying himself for the possibility of conflict -- as least as much as he can, given the circumstances. Gilgamesh appears deathly calm.

Saber comes out of the darkness and into the dim lamplight. Her eyes are wide, her whole body tense, and she doesn't move with the same grace that she normally does, even when in battle. Instead, she is jerky, quick, like an animal that is frightened or preparing to fight. She sees him and for a moment she stares, going stock still as she has been spotted by a predator. Her bare hands hook into claws, even though all she has are fingernails (but they itch, they itch terribly, and she cannot stop it, cannot think to try and stop it).

Some part of her recognizes him, perhaps. But it is buried under instinct and the madness of the full moon. As the first heartbeat slides into the next, she lets out a shriek and simply throws herself at him, slashing as if she means to open his cheek with her nails.

She has to fight or she has to run. And her natural instinct is to fight. She is a predator and she will not be chased.

Gilgamesh's eyes go very wide, then narrow considerably, as soon as she approaches his field of vision.

Saber. As strange as it might seem to say, when Gilgamesh had stepped out this evening, he had not been thinking about Saber's state of being or her whereabouts. By now, he obviously knows that Monsters can go feral during Full Moons. He recalls Caren's insinuating words, and he saw what was transpiring with his own Master. Therefore, it might seem obvious that he would wonder about Saber, having seen her physical developments and knowing what they would signify about her status in this world.

Yet, on some level he still classified her in his mind as a fellow king, a fellow Servant; that obstinacy of hers, the trait which drives him wild in the best/worst ways, should preserve her ego even against the magic of this world. Should it not?

But, even for him, there is no denying the absolute reality bearing down upon him at present.

"So you did not Bond, did you?" Ah, but she does not even recognize him, does she? Any hope of reaching her through mere words would be faint, but Gilgamesh also knows that his is an especially strong cadence. It is at least worth a try to reach her, even if they must ultimately fight. Besides, he would not be him if he did not goad her. "Foolish woman. Look at what your attitude has done to you!"

For a warrior of their composure, this is quite obviously a disgraced state.

He would pity her if he were capable of that, but as it is, he must very rapidly and instinctively respond to her aggression. It is more than a little ridiculous to use Ea like this, but whatever -- since it is effectively just an oddly shaped pseudo-sword now, he swings it up and out, almost like a baseball bat. Definitely not the most elegant move and not at all his preferred form of offense or defense (he was originally associated with Archers, after all), but if she is fighting as an animal and not a swordsman, such low tactics might be necessary.

The real question is how much deadly force to apply. He would rather not kill his future wife, after all!!

Gilgamesh says something and some dim corner of her mind recognizes him, recognizes that he's saying something, but the rest of her doesn't care. What matters is that he's here and that she needs (wants) to fight. The alternative is flight and she refuses to do that. So instead she comes forward, ignoring his words, but has enough presence of mind to still fight. She isn't mindless - just locked into an animal state, her reptile brain running wild.

She sees Ea coming around in a swing and she ducks back, waits for the momentum to carry it beyond his guard, and then comes in again. This time it's a pounce or a leap, hands outspread to try and claw at his face as she comes at him once again. Take his eyes out. Cripple him. Blind him.

Do whatever it takes to win.

Her teeth are bared, tail out behind her. She's going to grab onto him and sink her teeth into his throat and then there will be blood.

Edited 2020-03-10 23:59 (UTC)

Hm, it would seem that his Heroic Pep Talk utterly failed.

Now Gilgamesh is just going to become frustrated and lose all sense of decorum! As one does!

"What are you doing, Saber? This is no way to greet your husband!"

Though he supposes it is appropriate that she is charging directly into his arms and no one else's. This part at least would seem to be destiny. He had a fantasy of himself being the one to catch her at the exact moment of her fall from grace, but even he believed it was exactly that: a fantasy, always denied fulfillment. The reality is extremely different, an absolute inversion in which she is not breaking sadly in his arms, but descending to the nature of a goddess. Wild, untamed... yes, that is what she reminds him of, with that look in her eye.

Unaccustomed to the change in their powers, either in general or relative to one another, Gilgamesh underestimates the remaining strength in her small body or the extent to which she is still controlling her faculties and movements. She may not be able to dig in deeply, but she grazes his face with her clawed nails harder than he expected. There is blood and she even manages to wrest a gasp of surprise from him as he slides backwards. He drops the weapon and opts instead to push back with his more immediate physical presence, his hands trying to close around her throat in the hopes of applying enough force to render her unconscious.

... but honestly, he must also obligatorily and grossly think to himself that she is so incredibly beautiful like this.

Again, his words do not reach her. She hears them, but they mean nothing to her. There's her name, which calls up some distant form of recognition, but it isn't enough to make her hesitate. There is no past, no future, no consideration of what comes next. Just the immediate moment and the fight. Kill or be killed. If she were in her right mind, she'd be mortified - not just by her actions, but by the way Gil tries to frame this. She's not his wife and has never wanted to be his wife.

Fortunately, the thought doesn't enter into her mind just yet. Her thoughts are still a frothing, swirling maelstrom of confusion and flickering emotion that refuse to let her think or let up. There is a moment of gratification when she sees and smells blood in the air. Her joy is short-lived, because he pushes back and his weight nad height forces her back against the wall with a cry of pain as the air is driven out of her. There are hands going for her throat and she claws at his arms and then at his face again, thrashing and trying to push free.

Everything is ending up focused into a ball of white-hot emotion. The world is still covered in that haze and she opens her mouth to snarl, twisting her head to try and bite at his hands.

He closes his eyes for a long moment. When he opens them, they are half-lidded.

He tilts his head, smiling at this raw anger and violence.

"Artoria."

Before she can close those sharp teeth around his fingers, he drops his hands from her neck to her hands, taking them in his and holding them up before his face, kissing them as he did when they sat at the campfire. Well does he remember her reaction then, how flustered she became; he wonders, idly, how she shall respond here and now.

It is just a guess as to what urges she feels now and what she needs. But, you know... Gilgamesh of all people knows a little something about the desires of a lion. There is more than one way to satisfy that predatory hunger. If nothing else, perhaps his audacity will strike through to the mating instincts that must boil somewhere inside of her animal nature. It is for him to be absolutely confident at such a moment to assert his will against this danger, but if he bets wrong, he might be in quite a bit more trouble. How thrilling.

"Come now. Let us embrace."

Edited 2020-03-11 00:57 (UTC)

Again, he says her name and again it's lost in the animal instincts that are controlling her and running her ragged. The almost berserker-like rage that's fueling her. She doesn't quite catch his hand with her teeth and she's preparing for another attempt - she wants more blood. She's stretched taut, running hot, lost in herself, and he takes her hands and tries to kiss her fingers. There's a flickering moment of surprise and then her fingers hook and drag down his throat - they'll leave angry marks, the evidence of scratches - and then grab at his collar and tug him down.

She arches up and her teeth try for an ear. It's a hard bite and might draw blood, but at least she's not trying to tear his throat out with her teeth, right?

... it would seem as though his Romantic Timing continues to be slightly off. This Saber has still not swooned into his loving arms yet.

Gilgamesh was hoping to encourage some recognition of him, through appeals to her kingly nature and the more grandiose side of her, the title he shares with her, or he was hoping to shock or awe or anger her into feeling a sense of herself; he even thought her desires might have a more complex contour. But everything is only a guess and in the end perhaps he has no recourse but to brute force. Is that truly the only language Saber speaks now? Is his beloved Artoria no better than a Berserker?

Very well. If that is how she is, then so be it. He will do what he must. Gilgamesh, who has mostly been acting on the defensive, tries to lock his leg with hers, to pull her down. If she falls, he reasons, he can still bind her and disable her in this way. But if it comes to it... well, she knows he is hardly above hurting her further.

There's a moment of surprise and shock when she feels her leg swept out and she goes tumbling onto the ground with him. She refuses to let go now, though. Instead, she grapples, rolling her weight to try and get on top. To be underneath is to invite punishment; to be trapped and without a proper way out. There's a stab of heat in her; a rush of adrenaline and sensation and she chases it, clawing and grabbing for every advantage that she can. There's no honor in this. It's a brutal, drag-out fight.

By now, her breathing is ragged. They've been at this a relatively short while, but it's still physically taxing.

Doesn't mean she's going to give up.

Underestimating his opponents has always been Gilgamesh's fatal flaw. In a typical Grail War, he would be unlikely to underestimate Saber, or at least her sword techniques. But with the new rules of this world, assessing their relative strength to one another is proving far more complicated. He could still fight back further. He could use his magic. But should he? Would that not incur other, or different, risks? Would it not injure his pride, being unable to battle Saber without magic, when she is now only this human woman with the body of a teenage maiden? Yes, that is it: this small body of hers, lacking its Servant statistics, should not be proving so difficult for him to oppose!

Part of the problem is that she is much stronger than he anticipated, even in this state. Her feral nature may be imbuing her with power. Part of it is that he would still rather not destroy Saber altogether. But her limiters are off -- the nobility, the humanity -- which restrains her.

Blood rises beneath the skin of his neck where Saber's claw-fingered hands have left welts; blood throbs in his ears. Just what is she thinking, trying to climb above him? He scowls, but he too is breathing heavily... and unsurprisingly, considering he is having such an intense physical encounter with the woman with whom he is obsessed. This is not how he preferred to see her, or how he believed he did, but his desires burn wild, a mixture of attraction and indignation.

As Saber moves to try to position herself atop Gilgamesh, he instinctively catches her by the arms, trying to keep those fingernail-claws away from his face -- a King's visage is not to be tarnished by anyone -- and he looks up at her, eyes focusing upon her heavy, ragged breaths, her mussed golden hair and a droplet of sweat which twists a bit too perfectly down her pale, slender throat.

"Saber," he murmurs, eyes widening so very slightly, a flicker of some genuine note of acknowledgment and nameless feeling.

Saber can hear her blood rushing in her ears, every part of her strained and on edge and with it comes a sense of need. This fight isn't merely about blood or survival or hurting an opponent, it's about establishing dominance over another creature and she is not about to submit to him. Not like this, not now. She will hold him down, bury his face in the dirt until he submits to the stronger and then-

Then she doesn't know (but maybe does); she isn't thinking that far ahead. Is incapable of it in this moment when everything is red mist and desperate need and the surging chaos of flickering thoughts and animalistic desire. She can feel a heat spred in her belly as she crouches over Gilgamesh and her eyes flicker, focus on the dull gold of his hair in the flickering light of the distant streetlamps and then on his face and the way that she has smeared blood and dirt into it; raised welts with her fingers on his throat. She can't truly appreciate it any sense of the word, but some inner part of her feels pleased. Satisfied.

He murmurs her name, but it doesn't penetrate. Instead, a hand closes on his throat again and this time it's to choke. The other tries to force his head back and to the side, wanting to force his head into the cobblestones and dirt until he submits. She bears down with all of her weight (as little as that might be), muscles straining and corded, mouth spread in a grimace-smile, exposing white teeth as she straddles him.

The animal wants this. Wants him. But only if he submits.

Saber, Saber, Saber. Even in a feral state, you should know better: a King never submits. And certainly he would not submit to her in this state she is in, when she is driven by mere brute force. That is what Saber fails to understand, what she has always failed to understand: it is only her pure and noble character which can distract Gilgamesh into a loss. Once she descends to the level of a beast, those battle instincts of hers are dulled. His are as well, somewhat, but he still has his faculties and his senses.

He pushes back against her, his hands squeezing her arms with crushing force as he bucks against her. There is something Saber has forgotten -- namely that he is still wearing the chains that symbolize his friendship. He tries to turn on his side as those fingers try to choke him -- to shake her off and perhaps rake the links of metal against her skin. He attempts to take hold of his weapon so that he may wrap her arms and bind her, though with the amount of movement and squirming between them, that is easier said than done. Still, in this condition, his is the greater strength, and she shall not be able to hold him down so easily.

Now he fights back. The animal refuses to let herself be beaten and she tries to shake his hands off of her arms. She's forced to recoil as the chains rattle painfully off of her knuckles, but she refuses to let that stop her. She goes back in, clinching with him, fingers wrapping around the chains and twisting, intent on using them as a way to keep herself close. She half slides off of him before she can plant a foot firmly to push back, leveraging her weight and muscle-power against him again, squirming and lashing out with her feet to try and force him to give up his attempt to bind her.

Her free hand grapples with him and goes for one of his wrists, squeezing with the force of muscle and the strength of a monster - albeit a new one, even empowered by the full moon. They're entangled on the ground now, neither quite on top, both struggling to find a way to win.

There's little strategy to her fighting at the moment and perhaps that works against her. She tries to bite an offending arm, making a noise like an enraged cat as she does so. There's a word hissed out, hoarse and breathless and ragged, "Submit-!"

The next few words are choked out - or growled, "Submit or I'll kill you!"

Gilgamesh's throat burns. His breathing is intense, his eyes wild, and the sweat glistens on his own skin as they struggle beneath the moon that drives her so wild.

"I am a King," he says. There is a cold fury to his voice. "Kings do not submit."

She is strong; he shall grant her that, if not aloud. Those Monster adaptations no doubt add to her strength, for it is not possible that Saber's own body should possess such force. Gilgamesh does have a size advantage, though he is not a man on the size of, for example, Iskandar. Inwardly, he is forced to concede that they are fairly well-matched unless he uses magic, and he is not in a position to do so easily now. Still, as he told her, he shall not submit; if she must kill him -- ah, but there are people in this world who have tried to urge him to caution, who would be hurt or vulnerable should he die -- and yet. His pride. No, (relatively) frail body or not, he is still the King of all Heroes. He is still Gilgamesh. Circumstances shall not render him incapable, vault or not, Servant or not.

That cold fury turns hotter, burning within him as his body burns. He is angry at Saber -- angry that she would allow herself to become like this, to lose her honor and her humanity. He had looked to her with a fascination of her deep humanity, and if any should have broken her, it should be him. As Gilgamesh said, a King does not submit. And yet, here Saber is doing so -- submitting to this loss of herself, having not taken the proper care to prevent it. What an ugly fall.

Still, even in his anger, there is a strange undercurrent of excitement. He has not been pushed like this in a long time. His own wild animal side stirs, and realizing that she cannot be reached with words, that, indeed, this is not even his Saber, he throws himself against her, trying to force her back with his weight, and, finally, he lunges with his mouth towards her own throat.

She is not the only one who can leave marks.

Edited 2020-03-13 22:48 (UTC)

Maybe it's the tone of his voice, but it burns through some of the fog in her head that keeps her reacting mostly on instinct, driven forward by whatever urge or thought happens to go whirling through her head. She hisses a name at him, even as she struggles.

"Gilgamesh-!"

She cannot bring up whole memories or even reason them out. Just impressions and sensations. Hate and fear and despair and even that intrigue and the sense of loneliness. It jumbles together into the whirling mess and its gone, but for that moment, her eyes are wide open in recognition. She slams her weight against him, fighting back against him - but she will lose that fight. He outweighs her, for all of her strength and determination and here she does not have the strength of a servant to help her (but she does have the strength of a monster).

Saber senses the incoming blow and she twists her head with an animal noise to try and avoid giving him the chance to sink her teeth into her throat. Instead, she tries to twist into him and meet him head on, fingers turned to claws tearing at his shirt, teeth snapping at his face, even as she feels the nick of his against her skin. She is trembling and covered in sweat, muscles straining. Her chin tucks down, trying to protect her vulnerable throat, and failing that, puts all of her strength and weight into rolling so that she can at least end up on top.

This has turned into a drawn-out, brutal struggle in the dirt.

The recognition, after even Gilgamesh had all but begun to believe it was an impossibility, takes him aback.

The cry, so similar to that which she would use with her Noble Phantasm were she still in possession of it, cleaves the tension of the moment. Gilgamesh does not hesitate -- he has learned his lesson, at least for this one encounter -- his teeth still graze her throat as much as he can with her thrashing against him. Yet the animal savagery she no doubt expected is somewhat muted; he had certainly intended to sink his teeth into her flesh with feral viciousness to match her own, but at the last moment, at hearing her cry out his name with such desperation, his eyes lift to hers, even as his lips part. Rather than biting to draw blood, he simply applies pressure to try to still her somewhat.

The gesture is unmistakably possessive, perhaps recognizably so to her even in her current state. It is an assertion of his claim and his raw strength, but more than that, it is an assertion of his demand for her continued recognition.

But this is also reciprocal recognition: Gilgamesh does not once avert his gaze, but keeps intently focused upon her, daring her to lock her eyes with him, and also insisting upon it.

He makes a low noise against her throat, but does not fight against her when she tears as his clothes and moves to straddle him. He pants shallowly against her, so close that she no doubt feels his chest rising and falling under her fingers when she tears at the fabric he is wearing, and she must hear and see and feel the evidence of exertion. Were Arturia in her right mind, perhaps she would take some pride in that -- in knowing she has forced him to become more serious.

Ah... but could it be that this is why he finally made some impression upon her mind? Is this why she finally perceived him?

At last, the King of Heroes looks at Saber with nothing like scorn or mockery. Not for this moment, anyway. Nor does he say anything flippant. Again, if only for the moment. She has established that she is willing to maim or kill him, and he has been forced to treat her as a serious threat. Still, it is one he faces steadily. Finally, he releases her neck, but he is still looking up at her.

"Go on, Saber."

That is as much control as he will cede. And it is not submission -- not really -- it is more akin to curiosity about what she will do. He still feels confident in his ability to turn the situation in his favor if it comes to that, but that cry of hers and this sudden desperation she is showing -- so long as he can mitigate the threat, either to his body or his pride, he will be entirely willing to let her follow through on those impulses.

More than willing -- if it means Arturia at long last emerges from that selfless shell of hers.

Gilgamesh

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too early for this icon but his face fits for the mood?? so ok

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Zelda

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