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[The Cu Chulainn that appears in the feed is a far cry from his normal, cheerful self. His hair looks even more disheveled than it usually is. His eyes have narrowed into slits and vein are popping all over his face. And his spear is out for all to see.]

WHERE IS SHE?

[He screams into the monitor, slamming his fist down on the keyboard and shaking the entire terminal.]

WHERE IS AYAKA SAJYOU? WHICH ONE OF YOU BASTARDS TOOK HER? WHICH ONE OF YOU TOOK MY MASTER?

[He takes a deep breath before he screams again.]

AND WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKERS ERASED HER NAME ON HER DOOR AND MADE HER A GRAVE? GET THE FUCK OVER HERE AND I MIGHT LIMIT MYSELF TO BREAKING YOU IN HALF!

[He knows. He knows that these are usually indicators that people had left the Tower for good. But he doesn't want to admit it. If he does, it means he's failed his Master again...]

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Cu Chulainn.

[Lancelot's command of the terminal is fairly new, but the tide of emotion coming from Cu Chulainn has a disturbingly familiar tone.]

I hear your pain, and feel it as well. But I have not taken your Master.
[Indeed, such a thing is unimaginable.]

I will aid you how I may-- in either finding or avenging her.

I know you didn't!

[He tries to force himself to calm down.]

Thanks for the offer. But I'm pretty sure I only need the "find" part.

I will search then, to see if she may be found.

Where did you last see your Master, Cu Chulainn?
[Lancelot has his doubts the she will be found, given what he's learned of the Nature of the Tower, but he will search nonetheless.]

Tell me how I may know her, and I will go.

Two...three...nights ago?

[Right before knowing about the soul thing. Right after he and Diarmuid had killed each other.]

She's a Japanese girl with dark hair and glasses. Kinda short. Around 16 or 17 years old.

Very well.

I will return with what news I may find.
[And with an eddy of black fog and a glint of red light, Lancelot is gone.
It is easier for him to move about the Tower unseen, if he has a purpose.

...

Sometime later, he returns. Empty handed, but visible once more.]

I have no news for you that you will love, Cu Chulainn.
I have seen the empty grave, and much else besides, and I can find no other trace of your Master. Perhaps she was taken back to your world through other means, or perhaps not, I cannot say... perhaps my senses fail me, but I did not find her living or dead within this place.

[And by now, much of his rage, at least that which is directed at everyone else, is spent.]

Ah...it's true, isn't it...

[His fingers dig into the sides of the terminal.]

DAMMIT! Why...? Why did I fail again!

I fear so.

[Lancelot's expression is somber.]
This is a perilous place, and full of fell magics. From what you have told me of your Master, she would not have you
reproach yourself but continue to fight and to live as if on her behalf as well as your own.

Beware, Cu Chulainn, of falling into Despair.

This isn't despair!

[It was rage. Directed at himself, mostly.]

[~~Yeah, it's totally despair.~~]

And I would rather that she reproached me.

[His voice is calm, but bitter. He knew his own failings, so everyone else should acknowledge them too.]

Whatever you may tell yourself, I know of what I speak.
[It isn't sympathy, but a kind of empathetic understanding that moves over Lancelot's face.]

Yes, it is a hard thing, to suffer without judgement when one wants it most.
Your loyalty does you credit, Cu Chulainn, do not poison it with fruitless blame.

Only when it comes to my legends.

[He glowers at Lancelot. If only the other knight knew what really happened in the Grail War. How Cu Chulainn had thrown away both honor and loyalty for the sake of one girl.]

It is not your Legend I speak of, but my own. Traitor and forsaken that I am, I have seen my rage and despair bring to ruin all whom I loved, and make a mockery of my every word and deed. All for self-reproaching pride and the fear of losing-- what was most dear to me.

[Lancelot's voice is low and rough, and he meets the other man's stare with one of his own. It has been a very long time indeed since he spoke of his own life.]

If you would be reproached, then do so, and learn from it what you will. But if you have your Master's love yet, do not tarnish it in this place that strikes at the heart.

A-and what if I realize that she wasted her love on an undeserving Servant?

[His voice cracks. He knows that Lancelot speaks from experience, and is perhaps correct on many points. But he can't stop blaming himself. He needs something to blame.]

[Else he would have to admit that the world was an unreasonable place...]

It is not your privilege to name the love of another, Cu Chulainn. Not even the love of your Master. It is hers to give as she will, and it is not for you to judge her gift.

This place is a den of foul magics and fell monsters. Even a battle won here may not be what it seems when the field seems set against us. Yet you must fight on. Persist, with your Master's fate and her wishes in mind. Curse this twisted place, but believe that you will meet again-- for she would not want your fire to fade.

[If Lancelot seems a little more human than usual-- well, he doesn't speak of these things in this way very often. He feels more human, and isn't sure he wears it well.]

['Curse this twisted place.']

[He wishes he could. He wishes he could wholeheartedly curse this Tower and its administrators.]

[But there would always be a tiny voice in the back of his mind to remind him that they are the ones who gave him his friends here.]

[He lowers his head and slams his fist into the top of the terminal's screen. He wishes it wasn't so confusing.]

I'll fight.

[Even if he's not sure how he can do it.]

I-I'll make this place regret sending her away!

[When he looks back up at Lancelot, his face is grim and determined, not twisted in rage or despair.]

Thank you, for reminding me of that.

[He hasn't seen enough of Lancelot to know that the other knight is acting more human than usual.]

[Any difference in himself is likely something only he could note or feel. Not even the Arthur he has met in this Tower could claim to know him now.

Lancelot bows his head, satisfied. Harnessed Anger is preferable to Despair.]

Yes.

Though my Master and I do not share such a deep tie, I too would be furious and distraught were he taken from me in this way.

For my part, I will aid you in any way I can.

[A smile tugs at his lips.]

...No way I can fail this time, then. After all, I've got two good knights backing me.

[Comradeship. It's been a very long time indeed since Lancelot felt anything like. It's an odd feeling. Like sensation returning to a disused limb. Welcome, but nearly painful.
He returns the smile faintly.]

Yes, Cu Chulainn, your allies-- and friends will not allow you to fail, or to fall.

We must all stand fast.

And if worst comes to worst, you can all duck behind me. I'll protect all of you!

[Maybe this is an unreasonable promise, but he liked making challenging promises and sticking to them.]

[Lancelot's bark of laughter is a brief and rusty noise, but it is genuine laughter nonetheless.]

Why then I need not shield myself, since I will have such a bold guard. This is welcome news indeed.

[He joins Lancelot with a barking laugh of his own, though Lancer's carries a note of hysteria.]

The best heroes should, by logic, stand at the very front. Won't you say?

[Lancelot's eyes narrow slightly in friendly challenge. Cu Chulainn could plainly stand to work off some energy.]

I would say that a Hero's place is wherever he makes it. Nonetheless, I believe that now I have found my Master, I am owed the honor of sparring with you, Cu Chulainn. You may name the time and place when it suits you.

Then how about a week from now? We can do it in the other meadow floor. The one that people don't usually use.

[Because right now, even if he needs to work off energy, he can't trust himself not to flip into a warp spasm during a spar.]

Meaning the Faerie Meadow? Or the other, strewn with pits?
Either would certainly represent a challenge, Cu Chulainn.

[Lancelot respects and well understands the need for distance.]

The other one. Who knows what we'd get into if we went into the faerie meadow? Or maybe we can use the soccer field floor. As long as nobody's playing on it.

I would be willing on either field.
[Lancelot allows a slight smile.] Indeed, dealing the whims of Fae folks, especially in this place, would present a challenge that we would do better to meet together, rather than avoiding their snares in our combat.

I trust you will find me when the time comes, Cu Chulainn.
Or indeed at any time that I can be of Service to you.

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puppy_lancer - 2013-03-13 05:28 (UTC) - Expand

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