CMO 2018 EDITION

[eonflamewing]

I am, once again, in hell.
»		«
the rest of the gang is here
» Feel free to request OCs, I'd be glad to provide writeups about them if needed. » I am generally a slow tagger due to RL/workbut I'll get one out every 2-3 days at the latest. » Pick a prompt and get the ball rolling! Or post a comment and I'll brain something. » Long PSLs are my jam, hit me up on plurk or discord if you'd like to do anything similar ;) » This CMO is sfw but if you want to write nsfw stuff that's also on the table....... WISHLIST ☐ >>>> FATE/ AU <<<< ☐ hair brushing ☐ reincarnation au ☐ mercy killing ☐ royalty au ☐ masquerade party ☐ mermaid au ☐ 'city in the sky' au ☐ long airship journeys ☐ space jockeys
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[erstderletzt]

[ Such courteous tea drinkers they are, as befit their station. ]

I've always wondered, how did you ground them?

[ He's capable of ground-to-air artillery, but. The Archer class truly is composed of archers. ]

[nozart]

[ How fascinating. Foreigner is like a bell in a soundless vacuum, a scream that hits cushioned walls and falls to the ground, neutered but beautiful. Even in cat form, there's something about him that feels incongruous with the real world, and that's something Mozart has always found favorable about his fellow Servant. That he's neither here nor there, both tethered and untethered.

Ain always sounds sad and beautiful and impossible to comprehend. Every day is a learning process. ]

Maria'd be glad to hear that. It was her, wasn't it? [ Flippant, but proud. He tries to scratch behind one of Ain's ears, if Ain will let him. ] I was on my way to get some pen and paper for my compositions— and you?

[abgrund]

[ In this form, his corrupting aura has been sealed completely, allowing him to coexist with humans without damaging their psyche. It's not one that he minds, either - the whisper of the void never leaves him, and it is in his nature to wish no harm on those who do not deserve it.

(As for how one determines if another is deserving... that's an entire issue altogether.)

One would be hard-pressed to conclude that he actively enjoys this form, but at least he does not shun it. ]

Yes... she wanted to help me.

[ He stays still under Mozart's touch, fur sleek in a way reminiscent of acrylic, his body lacking heat. ]

I wasn't going anywhere.... Can I come....?

[painalty]

We had a little help from Captain Drake. She insisted on accompanying us.

[Probably for the spoils of war. Lady needs a lot of dragon teeth.]

It looked like she had a lot of fun shooting them down.

[nozart]

[ Foreigner is considerate, in his own way. The empathetic capability of a being devoured by the Void isn't something that Mozart has ever considered at great length, but it's easy enough to come to a conclusion about Ain in particular: he tries.

It's why, Mozart assumes, he chooses to appear in this nonthreatening form.

Black fur feels like warmed ink under the musician's fingers, and sifts under his nails like a whisper. ]

I have no objections on my end! The more, the merrier.

[ Eyes narrowed, he scoops Ain up to tuck him in the crook of one thin elbow. A gaggle of teenage girls pass by, mouths covered under their palms to muffle their cooing.

Mozart laughs, and waves to them by lifting one of Ain's paws. Precious. ]

[antemeridian]

[ 'A cycle of repeating their own mistakes.' Is it absolution, one wonders, if one's goddess has seen them laid bare and forgiven them- proclaimed them to be her best friend, even- regardless?

Archer has accepted that, perhaps, her repeated journeys through time meant- not all that much, in the end. Perhaps another her would have rejected the sentiment outright, grown defensive, but Archer has moved past that, even if it had to be forced. ]

If it is hubris driving them, then their pride would not allow them to learn. Not easily. You would be better advised to argue with a rock.

[ It certainly felt that way, some timelines. Conviction, she understands. Stubbornness, certainly. And yet still...

Her head tilts, minutely. Considering. ]

In any case. Not through hubris, but perhaps, sometimes, through other means. [ Not in the way that she accuses the mages of this world to perhaps want to aspire to. ] Ascensions- true ones, that is-

They would be considered under the purview of 'miracles,' would they not?

[ They aren't talking about their existences as Servants anymore, are they? ]

If man became god. They are no longer considered men.

That separation, then, is maintained.

[ But it's inflected in a way closer to a question, rather than the statement it's worded as. ]

thanks bluhen for being the well-adjusted one here

[postmeridian]

I couldn't possibly finish all of this myself. [ That's the surface level reading of his question, at least, but she hums again, going back to her busywork. A constancy of motion. ] But if you mean simply the act of it, then perhaps? It was never a skill I possessed an excess of in life. Even if it was mere whim that led me here, I doubt any food here would go to waste, truly. [ They do have a fair few gluttons among their number, after all. ]

the ains need at least one sane man

[erbluhen]

[ An innocuous answer; though he doesn't have much reason to suspect that her answers are lies. So he maintains his expression of idle interest, straightening up again ]

It's good to explore new things, that's true.

[ A deviation from the norm. Cooking would be something that Archer shunned, but he saw nothing wrong with it. ]

Could I try some later, then?

that's fair..... looks at homura

[postmeridian]

[ Another thoughtful hum. ]

I'm not sure if I would say it's entirely new rather than something I simply was too busy for, before.

[ To be fair, after the initial answer it wasn't much of a lie. She may play her part up at times, but too much of her had been rooted in seeking the truth, seeking answers and solutions, to bother overmuch with unnecessary deceptions.

Though veiling any image of vulnerability is in fact a necessary one, as far as she's concerned. Disarming is fine. Vulnerable is not. ]

Later? I'd think they'd be better when warm, but I suppose if you're not hungry now...

If that is what you want, I can set some of it aside and save it for you.

[abgrund]

[ Even in this form, he still retains a subdued form of kindness. Twisted by the void it may be, but the humans he once knew had engraved it into their memory, impressed upon his Saint Graph with reverence as they did with someone else. And so he carries it, both out of a lack of choice and a lack of opinion either way.

Though, the reason he picks a cat and not some other animal is entirely personal. ]

.... what are they doing?

[ He's been compliant with Mozart's antics, gaze following the human girls as they recede into the distance. A curious gesture, he thinks - but not one that's entirely comprehensible.

Surely, they do not feel his aura. Yet, are black cats not unlucky? ]

[erbluhen]

[ Technically, Servants don't need to eat. He did not need to eat in life, but had instead treated it as an experience, much like appreciating art. Charred cooking might be quite tasteless, but Caster is beyond that - plus, it might tell him more about her.

Thus, a shrug: ]

Oh, whenever you think is best. I didn't want to cramp your style, is all.

[nozart]

[ How funny— in life, Mozart surrounded himself with self-destructive artists, the types who would drink and dive into death if it made for entertainment. In death, he finds himself making company with the dreary sort, the ones who question the simple things in life because it seems all so incomprehensible to them. For good reason.

Sweeping his long hair back, Mozart laughs. It's the little things. ]

They're admiring the view. You might not have realized, but I'm quite the looker.

[ Who knows if he's being serious? He grins like a jester, eyes narrowed and teeth gleaming. ]

—Not to mention that you're not so bad, yourself. [ Playing with Ain's paws again. ] Mm, you're definitely what I'd call 'cute'.

[glanzenschwert]

[ Archer's words trail into silence. He does not disturb it, pale eyes fixed upon her - through her, as if he is watching something she cannot see.

There is no emotion in those inhuman eyes, his form outlined by a barely noticeable glow. ]

If a human attains that worthiness.

[ If. There is stress on that very first word, only slightly.

Of course, it's not so much an acquiescence as a challenge. Who deems the worthiness of humans if not for the gods themselves? But then, how would such a thing hold in a world without gods at all?

Important questions. ]

[erstderletzt]

[ truly, it draws to mind the question of why the rider class is full of gunners archers. ]

Ah, as expected.

[ though he falls silent immediately after. it's evident that he's not... the best at small talk. does sanson have anything to ask him? ]

[abgrund]

[ it's the little things that make people human. little things dusted over each day, a twinkling of icing in a world that moves and swirls like ocean. it is full of colours, full of life and laughter - a far cry from the abyss that fills his veins and pours in a sedate sort of madness. yet, he knows that it too has value, a world that exists to be beautiful... even if it is destined to fall into ruin one day.

after all, the abyss is merely the other side of this coin. ]

I see...

[ he does not question mozart's own boast. for all he knows, it may be true. who is he to understand the whims of mortals?

though... that second statement. his ears flick a little, just once ]

Is that a good thing?

[painalty]

[THEY RIDE AND THEY SHOOT.

After stirring his tea, he raises his cup and takes a sip. There's nothing in particular Sanson wants to ask him, but...]

Of course, once the dragon was grounded, we took over. Not that that would stop her from joining in anyway.

[Drake was strong, but she didn't have class advantage. But Voyager of the Storm was a major help in strengthening Assassins who generally didn't have a lot of attack power.]

[postmeridian]

[ ... 'cramp her style' ... She can't help it; she lets out a giggle, high and bright- though something about it seems brittle at the edges. ] Ah, but we can't have that now, can we? [ She turns away to finish up her current project- a stack of pancakes, piled to a very modest height- with a flourish of chocolate drizzle atop whipped peaks and strawberry slices. It isn't the most artful, but it doesn't look bad, either. Tomoe Mami's creations were better, but, well. Tomoe Mami has also spent much more time practicing, waiting, and hoping. Turns out the devil is the indulgent sort. Of herself or others, though... And then, addressing him again: ] It's a good thing I see no such threats here.

[antemeridian]

If.

[ She agrees, without difficulty, eyes shuttered. Another idle sip of the tea he'd deigned to prepare for her, before her eyes open again, gaze clear and lucid, though not defensive. Unlike others who were similarly inhuman, she believes she understands his motivations more, to an extent- and the extent of which his methods would reach.

It isn't entirely acquiescence on her end either, but nor is it rising to meet his challenge. Perhaps elaboration. Her agreement isn't simply surface-deep. ]

And, almost certainly not ever of their own aspirations.

[ That can only lead to the creation of false gods more than anything, delusions of grandeur propped up by forced idolatry. It won't ever last.

No, reverence from others... is an avenue to being placed into that position deserving of such worship, but it mustn't be sought. Not for its own sake. But if they are elevated in that way, and there are no gods to protest it...

What better acknowledgment of their being beyond humanity than such a designation? ]

Crim. And Eve. Because. ♥

[hollowbutnotempty]

A clatter, a commotion -- the source moved down the roof as it went, quickly, over the edge and fell into the garden area. The birds voiced their disapproval of the sudden invasion of their perch as whatever it was -- or whoever it was -- crashed into a tree next, before landing on the ground.

There were a few smaller sounds that followed the first, of a pencil rolling down after them, and two thick paperback books, a dictionary and a graphic novel of some kind. The binder had landed some ways away from the figure, open to some lined pages with neat, small handwriting in it. Schoolwork, perhaps.

The figure was just about five feet tall, lying face-down on the ground. A long-sleeved tee that was somewhere between purple and gray, black jeans... black socks and black-and-purple tennis shoes. A chin-length shag of purple-gray hair, messy after their tumble. Pale peachy skin, a bit too light to be simply a result of staying out of the sun. A thin figure, but one that seemed to hint at maybe just a little more than simple lanky youth, with the odd look of their hands.

It wasn't the similarly gray-purple nail polish that suggested something was out of the ordinary about them, but the way their hand's joints looked. The smooth glove of the look of human flesh wasn't present; the mechanically perfect curves of well-crafted joints in smooth plastic was. They pushed an arm under themselves, lifting their face from kissing the earth, and brought their other hand up to bury their fingers in their hair as they rubbed their head.

A moment later, a black hooded jacket fell out of the tree and buried their head, descent no longer delayed by the branch it had caught on.

All in all, a perfect ten-point landing, graceful as--

Okay, no, that was a lie. Someone should probably check on the kid.

\o\

[cmbr]

There's..... a sound. Definitely a sound.

Crim had been in the annex drafting some reports. It was mundane paperwork to keep herself in the legal alchemist's organnization - perhaps a misnomer, for they did not experiment wildly like the alchemists of old; instead pursued active production for inventions and other principles. Alchemists, but regulated - and regulations often meant paperwork much like taxes.

(She hates taxes.)

No one should be in her estate except for her and her assistant, so the sound of someone falling into the tree is very much a sign of intruder alarm. Nevermind touching any security feed screens while she's working - she bids Eve to turn off the instruments before hurrying through the house, pushing open the door to the garden —

— there's a kid there. Definitely not a human kid, she concludes, as her eyes fall onto their hands and limbs. But a kid nevertheless, one who might be trying parkour on an alchemist's roof.

Not a good idea.

"Hey... you okay?"

She takes a few steps closer, a woman in her late twenties wrapped in a red cloak, extending a hand out. She can't be rude to children.

:D

[hollowbutnotempty]

Doll froze and scrambled to push themselves back up more quickly at hearing someone else there. They dragged the jacket off of their head and it took their hair with it, revealing it to be a wig, and in their move to get up faster, ended up tripping on their own feet and landing on their butt not far from where they'd started, eyes wide as they looked up at her.

The kid was definitely alarmed at having been caught. They didn't seem to be notably hurt, for all that they'd crashed down from above. And they were definitely, positively not human, a fact made far more obvious now that they were facing her. They had no mouth, only a subtle curve to suggest lips that lacked a way to part them. Their bald head was mostly smooth, but for an indented little ring around it. Between that and a few tiny little bumps, it was clear enough that it was the way the figure anchored its wig, a place where it could grab onto the head when it wasn't half inside the jacket they were clutching to them.

Most tellingly, the childlike face was lacking eyes in the traditional sense. The orbits were exaggerated, moreso now to suggest an expression of alarm and surprise, and let her look in on a dark, hollow interior. Two yellow irises floated within, and presumably gave a bit of their own light, to have been seen in such an oddly dark little space.

The doll-child blinked at her, owlish, more alarmed that anyone was there, than at her in particular. The yellow eyes disappeared when they did; there were no eyelids, simply the sudden lack of the irises and their reappearance, but the overall result was effective enough at conveying the blinking.

And then they looked up over her shoulder at a small sound, and their eyes widened a little further. They raised a hand quickly, pointing up at the roof, where the thick paperback translation dictionary was finally making its way down. At worst, she might want to side-step that so it didn't hit her.

If Crim turned to see what had caught the plastic child's attention, they'd be gone when she looked back. A few feet away, under the tree, would be a probably much more mundane sight: a plastic baby doll. Old and well-loved to the point of being sun-bleached unnaturally pale, paint gone and eyes long missing, hair and nails marked up with the faded remains of what might've once been black pen ink, and dressed in a child's attempts to hand-sew doll clothes: black pants, gray-purple shirt, and black jacket. It was the sort of toy that most parents would've wanted to throw away years prior; that a child had had it long enough to be capable of trying to make clothing for it said that they hadn't, and that, ratty as it was, it was surely a young someone's prized possession.

Which probably only raised more questions....

[cmbr]

The kid...

... the kid kind of looks like Eve. Well, in the same sense that they are both inhuman, with odd eyes - a doll of a different make. Which is quite odd, as dolls like Eve are not licensed in the slightest; she had only obtained a license to keep it because of her work. Did someone also perfect the protocol for making new life? Most curious...

Her immediate thoughts are to identify this child and return it to its maker, but - the child points, and she turns. She catches the book with practiced ease from years and years of working in a lab with moving parts, making a mental note to gather up the child's belongings to return them later -

— it's gone. The child is gone, by the time she turns back. In its place... a proper doll.

Crim walks closer, crouching down at a safe distance to inspect the doll. A glimmer of understanding touches her eyes - perhaps, a catalyst of some sort? She should take good care of it, just in case. Dolls like those need to be handled properly.

She picks up Doll's doll form with gentle care, bringing it indoors and into the annex. The annex served as her laboratory, half the space taken up by equipment while the other housed two tables and her books. Eve is there, a homunculus with slim limbs and delicate features - more of a spirit than an actual human. It had flowing silver hair tied up in a low ponytail, but what is most apparent about Eve's appearance is its eyes - reflective, like mirrors.

Eve tilts its head, questioning.

"I found this outside. Can you put this on the measuring table? A lot of other stuff fell as well, I need to gather them up."

And so she will, taking a bag from the stack of containment sacks folded by one side. This would leave Doll alone with Eve, who only looks at its doll form in curiosity.

[glanzenschwert]

[ she agrees with him, somewhat. she agrees with him in a way that most humans do not, leading to this respect between them - of one who was inhuman to begin with, and one who has since learned to see. at least, that is what he wants to believe. ]

Yes.

[ as long as they were not elevated by human hands, he will accept it. and implicitly, accept the existence of that person whom which archer respects. ]

I am glad we are in concordance.

[ he's far too tired of arguing with others, even when other saints come to break the fight. ]

guess who became too tired to write idol angel... it was me.....

[erbluhen]

[ he doesn't miss it, that brittleness. it ties in to the mystery that surrounds caster, folds around her like petals, like birdcages. he's aware that he should not pry, but there's something hard in that laugh - the edge of a square where none should be, if she was happy.

— it's not his place to question that, though. ]

Mm, that's good!

[ perhaps his own cheer would suffice. he wanders away to find a spoon, just in case, coming back with one balanced between two fingers. ]

Are you done making, or can I help?

[antemeridian]

[ And she does remember that, or at least catching glimpses or stray mentions of those altercations. Such occasions, she thinks, were somewhat more common when he was still Archer, still possessed of that caustic haughtiness. Or at least more freely displaying of it.

She hadn't minded, so long as he kept to his own business- and he had, at least enough so as far as she was concerned. It wasn't much to have to deal with, all things considered, and though they all share a common cause here, Homura has always kept her own counsel. Ain isn't much out of line from what the old traditions make angels out to be, outside of perhaps, not singing enough of a litany of praises. ]

We all have our obligations and aspirations. Regardless, it can only be for the better if we all managed to find common ground to work with each other on.

It must be interesting, being among the other Rulers.

[ She's aware that the original Holy Grail War summoning ritual was a predominantly European affair, and as such artefacts of such have trickled down into Chaldea's Fate system. Still, the predominance of one particular faith in certain classes, despite how the other classes have filled out with those from all sorts of histories... it's a little curious. It's a little curious, especially given her upbringing, but not enough so for it to concern her overmuch.

Less severe, then, and more distantly polite, in a serene sort of manner: ]

What was it that you were reading before I interrupted?