Event Log: May, An Inauspicious Arrival

[faileas]

Event Log: May, An Inauspicious Arrival

I. Boaltinn (1st - 3rd) Boaltinn comes around again. A handful of Mirrorbound will remember the holiday from last year, but for others, it will be brand new. In both Residential Districts, bonfires burn in central locations through the night, frequented by the residents celebrating another summer come to Aefenglom. Curiously, while last year the bonfires seemed quite segregated by human or Monster, this year, there is more of a noticeable mix at each, and Mirrorbound are invited to join the games and festivities quite happily. Characters are invited to try and jump through the bonfire's flames to burn away any poor relationship experiences, be it romantic or platonic, past or present; to aid them in this, those at the Eastern Bonfire will give those participating rune-etched accessories to protect them from the fire. The city has quite a bit to offer for this holiday: shared rose baths at public bathhouses and pleasure establishments that increase feelings of friendliness and talkativeness, poles draped in ribbons meant to be danced around, wrapping a ribbon around the pole to bring good luck for the summer, food stalls whose offerings are meant to be shared, and fortune-telling set up by Divination students of the Coven, who can tell your day is going to go. To see last year's Boaltinn prompts, you can take a glance right here! Much of it, including the bonfires, baths, and entertainments will be similar this year, so feel free to use those in your top levels.

II. An Unusual Arrival (3rd on) A full year from the arrival of the first group of Mirrorbound, the 1st passes quietly, with no one showing up in the mirror-lined halls of the Looking-Glass House. Dates and times are important in most kinds of magic, and this is strange enough that some Witches of the Coven get together on the night of the 3rd to try a probing ritual, attempting to gather some kind of clues that could be useful in prying out the cottage's secrets. Boaltinn is the best time for such things, when the boundaries are thinner, and magic is stronger. Those who are awake that night at 3 am might notice a pulse of harmless silvery light that spreads like ripples on water throughout the whole city, originating at the Looking-Glass House, but nothing further happens, and the Coven receives no answers. Well, nothing happens in the Looking-Glass House. Before long, the reports start coming in: people are emerging from mirrors, regular old mundane mirrors, all over the city. Anything with a particularly reflective surface could be an entry point for someone from another world! Inhabited homes, businesses closed and locked for the night, pools of still water in fountains or the river, these unorthodox Mirrorbound pop up anywhere and everywhere, causing chaos for the City Guard (folks aren't happy to find strangers in their bathrooms at 3 in the morning) and the Coven both. Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. If you are one of these unfortunate arrivals, it's likely a rude awakening for you, to find yourself somewhere inconvenient, somewhere other than where you've been. It only makes sense to be confused. Hopefully someone finds you and explains to you what's happened to you. Resident Mirrorbound will hear a message from Miss Nessie shortly after it begins, a call to arms: "Dears, I'm quite sorry to disturb you, but it seems your fellows are arriving elsewhere than the Looking-Glass House this month! We're trying to track them all down for the usual welcome, but we could use a hand or several! If you could just bring them by the Coven, the usual spot, that would be lovely." She'll give her usual orientation and pass out Watches, but no doubt the Mirrorbound will be more helpful in this regard, with so many arriving.

III. The Goblin Market (All Month) Life goes on in Aefenglom, despite the addition of so many new residents. With the City Guard decidedly busy dealing with the sudden flood of break-ins (or, more accurately, break-outs?), the vendors of the Goblin Market find opportunity to set up their stalls more openly than they have since the crack-downs some months ago. They pop up all over the city, but clustered more often in the Residential Districts and the Harbor District, where there are even fewer law enforcement agents out and about to run them off. These sellers, while not as devoid of morals as those major players of the Black Market, still have very few compunctions when it comes to lying, cheating, fencing stolen goods, and misrepresenting their wares to unsuspecting buyers. It's also the place to find those things that are- not quite legal, shall we say. They won't say a word if you don't. If confronted, they are quick to pack up their things and slip away, however; they know this city and its hiding places a lot better than you do. With a brand new batch of what the natives assume are Mirrorbound, many undergoing rapid transformations into their Monster forms, many of the wares on display are potions: supposed cure-alls for aches and itches, calming draughts for the full moon restlessness, some even claim their brews can halt changes entirely! Some concoctions are meant to increase a Witch's magical ability, or decrease it, or provide them a finer control. They offer potions that they say will eliminate the need for a Bond, or temporary Bonding potions of their own that they claim are more pure, stronger, than the ones offered by the Coven. Claims are only claims, though. A few remedies for the pain of changing or some regular temporary Bonding potions can be found here and there, but for every potion that works, there are twenty more that have less than pleasant side effects. A brew that will cause everything you touch to turn to solid gold for up to an hour; a potion that will invert your sense of direction - trying to turn right will make you turn left, trying to go forward will cause you to walk backward; a potion that will remove all traction from your feet, causing you to slide around as if cobblestone are the slickest ice. Worse, some shadier vendors sell things more sinister, including a potion that gives you the appearance of being moderately to heavily infected by the Cwyld. Even if you don't drink any, the vendors are not at all careful where they're sloshing those bottles around, trying to show them off, and they all activate on skin contact.

IV. A Wilde Hunt (7th - 22nd) All Mirrorbound, temporary or not, are likely to feel it. Monsters are always affected by the full moons, but this month, it is more. Stronger. Instincts rise to the surface as the Sisters emerge full and visible in the night sky, and for many Mirrorbound, they are undergoing rapid transformations into whatever type of Monster they are meant to be. Curiously, the natives get along like they usually do, noticing nothing out of the norm, other than the increased agitation and restlessness from Mirrorbound Monsters. Monsters' aggression fades when the Sisters start to wane, but as the new moons approach on the 22nd, Mirrorbound Witches will notice their magical reserves overfilling, and will find themselves stricken with the overwhelming urge to use it, until casting spells, pushing one's magical limits, is almost a compulsion. Those who are not in proper Witch-Monster Bonds will feel it even stronger, with no stabilizing magic to consume (for Monsters) or avenues to expend magic (for Witches) other than casting spells. (For those who are interested, the Coven does offer temporary Bonding potions which can be used to help alleviate the effects somewhat.) The Coven Witches notice the signs, and they take decisive action on the morning of the 6th, the day before the full moons. So many Mirrorbound, likely to be so heavily affected by the lunar cycle this month, many of them coming into new features and abilities at a breakneck pace, only spells danger for the city. They barricade off a massive chunk of Wilde outside Aefenglom, largely free of Cwyld and totally bereft of farms, homes, and Wilder outposts. They invite anyone who feels the effects of the moons too strongly to control to come out for a Hunt. The hunting grounds will be open nightly to anyone who needs to work off restless energy or overflowing magic; all participants will be warned that their safety cannot be guaranteed from others, but they won't be able to harm bystanders out here. The woods are thick, with the river cutting through them, and full of wildlife. There is room to run and chase prey, or room to play with your developing magic. Play cat and mouse with your friends or Bondmates, or stalk a stranger. If playing games isn't your thing, there is something else to hunt out here as well. With the deep Wilde entering into Winter, this patch of land so close to the city is much warmer, and fearsome Shades have emerged to search for prey. These were once living beings, Monsters, Witches, or animals, who have been overtaken by Cwyld infection long ago, leaving them dead but for the infection, white-eyed and seeking out sources of magic to consume and infect. Anything could become a Shade, but the most common out right now are the ferocious remains of bears, wolves, and nomadic Arachne and Turnskins. If not killed, these Shades threaten the people of the Outer City, when they inevitably escape the barricade. Careful to limit your contact, though; anyone infected upon their return to the gates will be escorted straight to the infirmary.

Welcome to May's Fourth Wall event, An Inauspicious Arrival! The comms are now open to comments from all registered users and will be until June 1st. Current players, if you don't want fourth wall characters tagging your posts, just say so in your text. Fourth wall characters can use this post for their own network top-levels, or this post for log top levels. This event is game canon; threads from this fourth wall can be used as application samples later and current players may use these threads for AC. As always, be courteous to each other! Let the mod team know if there are any problems and we will handle things.

As always, please direct your questions to this thread!

Comments

[tryhard]

[ The younger Waver watches him in silence, a strange mirror. ]

How long has it been, for you?

[ He asks, just as softly. He doesn't bother offering a seat or tea anymore. He doesn't move closer, fingers tightening slowly on the back of the chair. ]

[hypomeneo]

I am forty two now. It's been twenty three years since our war.

[He doesn't look at all forty two.

But Servants rarely appear their true age.]

But how long...

Sit. [There's a pause. The older self frowning.] The answer isn't going to be what you expect.

[tryhard]

[ The younger Waver's eyes widen considerably. ]

Twenty--?!

[ That's longer than he's been alive. The shock is difficult to bridle, his mouth hanging open for a few moments longer even when his older self cuts in to bid him take a seat. In his own shop. Waver is so dumbfounded, he doesn't even argue.

The natural passage of time shouldn't be so shocking, and yet there's something about it that's so difficult for the human mind to grasp in full.

Waver sits, and perhaps unexpectedly, quiets down to listen. ]

[hypomeneo]

Twenty three.

[Waver's fingers press down a little harder on the table. The hand that bore Command Seals twice.]

I've seen him in glimpses, but not quite as the man we know. The first time was on the eve of the Fifth War, underneath the Clock Tower deep in the Spirit Crypt Albion. He was summoned as a Divine Spirit to be used as a way to tap into back into magecraft lost with the passage of the Age of Gods.

[Divine Words. High Speed Incantation. Age of Gods Magecraft doesn't depend of magic circuits - that was a system set up by the King of Magic, himself, Solomon. It instead is granted by a bestowal of pieces of the god's authority to the casters themselves.]

That couldn't stand. I wouldn't allow him to be used. [A pained pause.] I sent him back before...

[There's the shake of a head.]

Then his younger self as a child much later. I last remember being on a battlefield with many Heroic Spirits, fighting alongside him and Darius the Third, and trying to keep between the two of them. A chaotic mess... then I was here.

[He's neatly avoiding mention of the Singularity and Septum for now. No youth needs that knowledge. He's still coming to terms with it himself.

If he can ever come to terms with it.]

[towards_okeanos]

[Clatter of hooves on the stones. There are few horses in the whole of Aefenglom that have such a heavy step. Iskandar doesn't hurry. He has already finished all of his errands, even took time to pick up dinner and left it in the house. If he was worried that Waver wasn't there yet the explanation was easy. So his choice was to get on Bucephalus again and go wrangle his boy from clutches of overwork ignoring the inevitable protests. Wouldn't be the first time...

The shabby stall erected near the entrance doesn't surprise him either. It was here yesterday and the day before. Joys of Goblin Market so it seems. He laughs as he stops and dismounts from his horse.]

Aren't you persistent little rascal?

[But that's everything he does. The pucca owner mutters under his breath and Iskandar just laughs again. He can leave guarding the entrance to Bucephalus. She has shown time and time again how rude she can be if the man tries to block the entrance again or harass the customers.]

Waver! You'd better be prepared to ...

[He shouts right from the door but the sentence dies before he finishes it, in an instant, when he sees Waver is not alone. A split-second shot of panic, surprise and anger, all calming down to a cold assessment of the situation. While his boy looks far from relaxed, he doesn't seem in danger. The wards are intact and given how easily they could trigger at the slightest suggestion of bad intentions Iskandar knows he can trust them. He made them. And then remade them. More times than it was necessary or even wise.]

Waver, dearest, who is your guest?

[This man. Iskandar can't shake the impression he knows him. But how? From where? Or when?

He looks so familiar. He could easily be Waver's older brother. The longer Iskandar looks the more similarities he finds. In truth, they look so alike it's eerie. Same dark hair, same eyes, same set in their shoulders. A little stiffer in the man than the boy but recognizably, unmistakingly same.]

[tryhard]

[ It's... difficult to imagine. It hurts to imagine, and he's not even the one who lived through it. Without him.

Waver's brows knit together as he listens, trying to keep up, though there is so much he doesn't understand. When his older self starts talking about fighting on the battlefield, his canine ears perk up cautiously, confused. What kind of battle? How had he gotten there?

And a child version of Iskandar? Why, and how? ]

Fighting alongside... other Heroic Spirits? Not another Holy Grail War?

[ That part is the one that makes the least sense to him without any context. Waver would have kept pressing with questions if it weren't for the sudden realization that he can hear familiar hoofbeats slowing and stopping outside. The Bond doesn't exactly tell him where Iskandar is, but when he's near, it feels like a string pulled gently taught. Warm and close.

His head snaps up in the direction of the nearby door. ]

Isk--

[ And his gaze swings back around immediately to his older self, the sound cutting off in his throat as he watches his reaction. ]

That's... a bit difficult to explain.

[hypomeneo]

Yes. Much worse than that.

[The spitting image of Eumenes, save for the bangs and lack of white streaks through the hair, turns and freezes at the voice. At the figure in the doorway.]

... Rider.

[The moment seems so fragile suddenly. Waver's throat and chest tightens, there's the subtle readjustment of the body to brace. He swallows, feeling something hot well up in his eyes.

The hair's longer. His king's been here quite a while.

Dearest.

That's a knife to the heart. He might have been given the magic, but the decades have taught him what he'd really choose over that if it came to choose. But oh... I just don't like you for some reason. That's all. still echoes in his mind. Along with everything else - the joy in fighting him, the agony in killing him. All he wanted was to save him...

But nostalgia is a powerful thing. So is love. ... and hope. It cuts through, pulling his lips up into a rough smile. He's living, breathing, probably getting into no end of trouble... happy? Waver hopes he's happy, even as part of him waits for the inevitable rejection. It'd make everything alright if he was happy. Wouldn't it?]

[towards_okeanos]

[The moment when recognition hits couldn't be more obvious. All it takes is for the older one to move. To utter a single word. Iskandar's expression softens as he looks from the boy to the man and smiles.

The strangeness of this world never ceases to amaze him. It has happened before though not exactly. Cu Chulainn and Cu Chulainn. Even if they weren't the same person in the end. More like splinters of the same image. The original and its unwilling copy. A little different and yet no so much.

But this his boy. All grown up. The man Flat spoke of. Professor. Complete with crease between his brows. To hear about this is one thing but to see it... He truly became a teacher. Iskandar's eyes travel between both the older and the younger. Well, that might complicate their already not simple situation here. Still, it matters not. They will figure it out somehow. He's sure of it.

He grins. Ha! Let none say that King of Conquerors shies from a challenge.]

What's wrong, boy? Aren't you going to come closer?

[hypomeneo]

[One tear drops down his cheek, then another. Waver's lip wobbles as he comes forward step by step.

He had a dream like this once. One that stayed with him after he waked. When Iskandar was calling him over... it feels a little similar.]

Boy? I'm older than you, now.

[Not if you count the two thousand years since Iskandar's time, though the measure evens out by a lot when you add in Zhuge Liang's time to Waver's. He sniffs, the sound uncomfortably loud to him, as he looks up. Eyes are windows to the soul, and he's never been very good at keeping his composure around Iskandar, unless it's truly a life or death situation (and even then). Iskandar can read the story of his life in them if he truly looks.

His arms are coming up like he wants a hug. Waver's hands rest gently on Iskandar's arms instead... almost if there's something making him hesitate... before slowly pushing forward.]

I missed you.

[towards_okeanos]

Is that so?

[That's not doubt. It's more curiosity. Waver has never looked his age. So Iskandar wouldn't even try guessing it now. But to him, he'll always remain his boy. Old or young, it doesn't matter.]

There, there.

[Iskandar doesn't hesitate, not even a second. He reaches out, one arm pulling Waver close to his chest, the other patting his head gently. He lets out air he didn't know he was holding in a long exhale.]

It's alright.

[There's no need for questions. Not yet. Though, when the time will be right, he will ask. Tears streaming Waver's face tell a story clearly enough for him to understand. A tale of years of agony, the emptiness, of the hole in the world where the other person should be. Such visceral pain needs no words.]

It's alright now.

[Iskandar looks up, his gaze shifting to younger Waver. I don't want you to suffer like that. Ever. If I'd have to burn this world to ashes to avoid it, I will. is what his eyes say. He looks back to older Waver. He doesn't want either of them to suffer.

Time is an odd thing. Even if they are the same person, their experience is different. It made them different. Would one's past be the other's future? Is this inevitable? Not even the wisest of sages could answer that. Especially, know that they all are here.]

I'm here with you.

[tryhard]

[ Frozen in his seat, Waver watches on, feeling strange and far away and unreal. His older self's back is to him when he goes to greet their king, but Waver doesn't need to see his face to sense his pain. He's sure he knows the look in his eyes.

For him, the separation had been only about a year, all told. He can't even imagine how long and lonely over two decades would be. His mind can barely comprehend that span of time, in truth. On paper, the numbers are easy; in lived experience, they're insurmountable.

So Waver remains quiet, breath caught in his lungs. He gives them space.

This man isn't him, not as he is now, but they share a past. Now, they might need to share a future. It's strange to feel like an intruder in his own life -- on either side -- but Waver doesn't have the heart to reject him either. Especially not when Iskandar looks at him like that.

For a moment, Waver meets his gaze in return, wide-eyed and vulnerable. For a moment, he can't breathe through the intensity of it, the way it makes his heartbeat stutter. He blinks back tears, fingertips pressing hard into the arms of the worn leather chair.

What's going to happen now? ]

[hypomeneo]

Servant containers are deceptive.

[That should say it all, he thinks, without going into specifics. It answers his younger self's questions about the context of how he got to that battlefield he was telling him about and explains his behavior at least a little to Iskandar.

He's pressed to his king's chest, with his strong hand patting his head gently, other arm holding him tight. The comfort he's desperately been needing, even as he fights not to break down into full sobs into his shirt. It's the opposite of the rejection he's been instinctively been fearing, though time is the only remedy to soothe that fear completely away.

That offhand remark had cut deep - partly because it had been so offhand, and the stage had been set by Faker so long ago with her malice and the seeds she had planted. Waver had thought he was over it, gotten through it, thought he had accepted Iskandar's loss and was processing it the best he could.

(he knew he would never see him again and seeking a way to see him was in part silencing the murderous what ifs, like he knew in his heart he'd never grow in magecraft and those what ifs were just as painful. he knew he was chasing a dream... he knew it was a dream...)

And then the Incineration of Humanity happened, and amid the horror of that, Iskandar crashed into his life again as Alexander. Waver loves him fiercely - he loves all of Iskandar's facets fiercely, he loves the Divine Spirit fiercely - but the future Alexander would come to is naught but a dream to that child. Something different was forged. Professor. As if he could ever step into Aristotle's sandals. But all that was supposedly laying at rest was tore up too.

And then he stepped into that Singularity and he had to face everything that been haunting him through every nightmare and flashback and remark razor polished to gore. Relive that war, that he had been reliving in his soul for decades. Save Kayneth. Fight Caster in his lair of tortured children. Fight Gilgamesh. Face the boy... compare that to the man, and everything that had made the man... and with one single remark thrown at him by the man who meant everything, the man who Waver made it his primary goal to forge himself into a person Iskandar could be proud of...

... what he really became...

And then things had spiraled into the challenge and the battle and Iskandar's death. Of all the Servants in the Singularity, he had wanted to save him the most. Yes, he knew in the end there was no stopping him from becoming dust - call it selfishness, but even if Iskandar had wanted that poetic warrior's death that so many seemed to crave, Waver both did not want to deliver it or keep seeing it delivered. His king pressed on despite the damnable truth of the Grail, that winning it only meant unleashing death and every evil known to the world, called him a warrior, put his path of conquest on the line. Worthy. As an opponent. Instead of as a target which he called him before.

He leapt. How could he not leap?

It was exhilarating. His heart was dancing. A fierce joy there's no name for. Then it was horror.

It ended as it always does for two Servants. Blood on someone's hands. He had killed his king in real. He had killed the person he loved. Zhuge Liang's power. Making his younger self watch, taking the place of Gilgamesh, a cave instead of a bridge. The mission looming over, and knowing he's just fucked everything as he himself fell, and everyone had to in turn take out Berserker... setting the whole damned thing off.

He sniffs again, gripping tight.]

[towards_okeanos]

Servant, hm?

[Does it surprise him?

In truth, no.

Iskandar prophesied yet another battlefield for him once. Their war was not to be his only war. Already then he saw the strife and hardships that still awaited his boy. Some part of him, shameless in its cowardice, wanted a quiet life for Waver. Yet even that part knew that no hero ever goes to live a quiet life. And Waver's path was the path of heroes from the moment he dared to pursue an impossible dream, to summon the World's greatest conqueror, the moment he chose to follow him.

While it is true that the path of heroes is steep and abounds in danger, something tells him that the trials of chasing a dream are what's on older's Waver's mind right now. Only a great loss can cause such sorrow. And what that might have been Iskandar doesn't even try to guess. He just keeps Waver in an embrace, close to his heart. Let the boy speak if he wishes, or stay silent if that is what he needs. All his King can do is to provide a reassuring presence. But Iskandar knows he's not only Waver's king, knows that he loves both the boy he met and the man his boy became. That he would love him always. And it is this love that doesn't allow him to remain idle.

So it may appear quite unexpected when the hand on Waver's head moves to his waist and Iskandar lifts him from the ground as if he weighed nothing. To him, even taller and older, Waver is still light as a feather. Iskandar makes his way to the sofa where he sits depositing Waver in his lap.]

Ah, that's a more comfortable spot to talk.

[He raises his free arm making space for younger Waver to snuggle in. He wants them both close. Doesn't he have two hands? There's enough to share.]

Now, tell me what happened.

[tryhard]

[ ...Servant?

Waver starts slightly at this revelation, eyes wide with disbelief. What on earth does that even mean? Flat hadn't mentioned anything about that.

There's no way. He's no hero. Servants are spirits of the heroes of men from ages past. It makes no sense.

The younger Waver is still speechless when Iskandar picks up the stranger of himself, and his heart twinges uncomfortably with a feeling he doesn't understand. It's not so ugly as stark jealousy, but it is... unpleasant.

He hesitates. Opens his mouth briefly, then closes it again. It's not like him to remain so silent, but he really has no idea how to even interject, what to say, and he doesn't want to interrupt. He wants to hear just as much as Iskandar does, of course, but at the same time--

Thinking of this as himself is disconcerting on a visceral level he can't really fathom, a faint existential panic just hovering in the back of his mind. Is he going to have to accept this? Is this man -- this Waver -- going to live with them? He can't even wrap his head around the concept of having to share his lover with... himself. But he can't think of this man as himself either, not exactly; they're clearly different, with different experiences and even different forms.

The whole thing is very confusing and frustrating, even with his understanding of alternate realities and even keeping in mind Berserker and Caster, both Cu in their own right but so different. He'll have to get used to that. He wonders how long it took them.

Finally, Waver rises from his chair, taking some time to gather himself and look away from the two on the sofa while he walks over to the door, locking it firmly. There, he lingers for just a moment before turning back to the impossible scene behind him. He doesn't exactly snuggle. He sits, stiff-shouldered, on the edge of the couch only because Iskandar beckoned him.

He doesn't want to share what he has. It's a cruel thought, and Waver is not a cruel man; he's ashamed of himself, and worried, and his ears are pressed so close against his hair they've practically disappeared. ]

[hypomeneo]

Yes. A very unique case. I'm still alive for a start.

[He can practically hear the denial going through his younger self's head, knowing the definition of Servant as he had it then, too narrow for what it actually can mean. He's right in part in that. He's no hero. He's a man who's tried to struggle on doing what's right and known the constant taste of failure and humiliation. Maybe survivor is a closer fit. It's certainly the most complementary he can chose.

The Heroic Spirit is Zhuge Liang.

Not him.

Not the history. Not the means to become one. That was true at the time of the fusion. It will probably be true forever.

Waver starts slightly as he's picked up, obviously not expecting landing in Iskandar's lap, but not protesting this treatment other than a slightly shocked blink and a low sound of surprise. Positive, affectionate physical contact? Hasn't been a thing... really ever... outside Iskandar and Gray brushing his hair. It's not unwelcome... it's not unwelcome at all considering who's holding him - hell, it's been a fantasy on so many lonely nights - even if it does feel overwhelming by turns and stops the sniffs dead by pure shock.]

Have you heard of a place called Chaldea and the events taking place there? I was summoned into that mess after dismantling the Grail.

[It'll be easier if he doesn't have to go over everything and explain the entire clusterfuck there.

... his eyes flick to his younger self. No, they don't like the idea of sharing at all. Not the younger, or the elder. He has no wish to kick his younger self out of what is clearly a relationship that's making him and his King happy... and besides... how the bloody fuck does he himself navigate this now after everything?

Waver has no idea... no idea at all...]

[towards_okeanos]

[This is all wrong. Iskandar can feel the unease radiating from Waver, both the younger and older. Same frustration, irritation and discomfort. Some of it creeping through the Bond he shares with Waver. The younger one.

He feels it and understands none of it. And it saddens him greatly. For it seems that he, out of everyone here, is the only person reacting positively to the very fact of being in the presence of the others. While he might regret not spending more time with Flat, not asking him for more details, the impression he had was that the memories that Flat had of that future Waver were good. He had always assumed, quite foolishly as it turns out, that meant his boy earned the recognition he deserved. He became a teacher, had students... it seemed good.

It turns out he was mistaken. It is in the reaction that older Waver has to his younger self, in that one panic-stricken yelp of shock when Iskandar picks him up, that it stops the tears but the echo of pain remains. This is not the reaction Iskandar was expecting. But then he asked a question and he's getting an answer. Sort of.]

Yes. Of a place, not what transpired there.

[Then in dawns on him and it's Iskandar's turn to blink in shock. He did what?]

Did you just say that you dismantled the grail?

[Excuse him, he has difficulty to process what you just said.]

skipping tag order here for a sec

[hypomeneo]

[Urgh. He doesn't know. This is going to be fun.

Iskandar then focusing in on the Grail sends a frisson through Waver. This is starting to feel a little too familiar... but he did bring it up. Damn Grails. They never seem to go away. Having them throughout the Singularities seems like mockery to all the effort and sacrifice made in taking the original system down.]

Yes. Yes, I did. Along with Rin.

The Grail was irrevocably corrupted with All The World's Evils. There was no wish that wouldn't end in utter destruction. Besides, it was never meant for granting wishes. The whole premise of the war was a lie.

there's post overflow for 4th wall in ooc com btw

[towards_okeanos]

Is that so? Hm, a true shame.

[Iskandar nods, a hint of disappointment lingering in his voice. In truth, he always knew it sounded a bit too good to be true.]

Bah! It was still worth a try.

[Nothing ever comes to those that fear to take a few risks but sometimes those risks just don't pay off. How odd then. His loss in the Grail War might have been not a bad thing altogether. No Grail to grant him his wish and yet here he is, having a second chance at life.]

Was this Rin a student of yours? In Chaldea?

[Assuming those to things are related is a stretch but then this older Waver is awfully cautious in his manner of speech. Not a bad habit to have altogether and yet rather irritating to his King who just wants to know what happened to him during all those years. How long even was it?]

[ooc: overflow post here]

Re: there's post overflow for 4th wall in ooc com btw

[hypomeneo]

[Continued here.]