un: silverrose

[fionnuisce]

WHO: Waver + open
WHERE: Libra
WHEN: 1/29, morning
WHAT: Being stressed about a canon update
WARNINGS: Possible discussion of death, likely Nasuverse magicbabble.

okay i don't know exactly how to go about this so i'm going to be blunt

diarmuid's not waking up. and unlike with myself or vash, there's a very real possibility things could be different if he does--i don't even know with certainty that he will. strictly speaking, 'lancer' had nothing to return to at home.

heroic spirits like him aren't meant to retain memories of their past summonings. if he comes back, he might be different--still himself, but not quite as any of you knew him. but at the same time, this specific situation is so beyond unprecedented that i can't be sure what might happen. he might not remember having been in this city at all, but neither can i fully discount the possibility that he could.

wanted to be sure his friends were aware of what's going on, regardless of what outcome should happen.

Comments

[fionnuisce]

The nature of the war is such that any given hero's identity needs to be kept concealed as long as possible, to hide their potential weaknesses. Saber, Archer, Lancer, Caster, Assassin, Berserker--they're summoned into one of these categories based on their preferred form of combat. Diarmuid's someone known for using spears and swords, so he qualifies for either class.

As to why...it wasn't a deliberate choice. 'Lancer' was just the class I summoned ten years ago, and I'd expected to do the same the second time. Either the class was already occupied by the time I did the summoning ritual, or my luck's just that twisted.

[jackdawvision]

Hm, I think I get it. Saber’s swords, Lancer’s spears and polearms, Archer’s ranged weapons, Caster’s magic, Berserker’s a brawler, and an Assassin would be something like this.

[And he holds up his arm and demonstrates the hidden blade popping out of its housing.]

But probably not quite the same.

[Pops it back in.]

So it’s, what, only one spirit for each class? As wars go, seems like a very small one for a very large prize.

[fionnuisce]

Exactly right. [The explanation was a good sistraction to focus on; keeping his mind occupied with categorical fact so as not to get lost in several dozen what ifs and catastrophes.]

Seven Servants, seven Masters. All at each other's throats in the hope of attaining the Holy Grail. Power, fortune, prestige--ostensibly, any one wish one could want so long as you can kill six other mages and their summoned heroes.

[jackdawvision]

Any one wish, huh. Just kill twelve people, and six of them come back anyway. [Years ago this would've captured Edward's attention the same way the Observatory did—a way to become a man of quality, to go home with no worries whether he would hang for his crimes, to be all he knew he could be, all that he'd been held back from becoming in Bristol.

Now, though, he just feels a little sick. The Observatory had ended poorly for him. He can see what horrors a Holy Grail could do, and they're far worse than what the Observatory could conjure up.]

Jesus, I'd only heard a little bit, but it's enough to churn my stomach. A thing like that in the wrong hands... [He trails off, and shivers.] How did you survive it?

[fionnuisce]

Oh, you can only summon a Servant once in a given war. I had to wait a decade to be able to call Diarmuid for a second one. Kill a Master and Servant, you're out one set of competition.

[A very tired sigh left him, taking a drink and debating how to phrase his answer.]

I was very young, and very stupid--an arrogant teenager desperate for acknowledgement. I would have died a half dozen times if Diarmuid hadn't been there protecting me. Even then, I still didn't get out unscathed. [A slight gesture to the silver-handled cane leaning against his chair.]

At the end of it all...he died so that I wouldn't.

[jackdawvision]

[Ah. He thinks of Diarmuid’s sheer grief back in the cave, the way he’d touched Waver’s body as if it had been more precious than gold or jewels or any other treasure in the world. Perhaps it was, to Diarmuid.]

He thought it was worth it. He knew it was worth it. The loss of you—even a temporary one—broke him like nothing else I ever saw.

[And Edward’s seen plenty of people driven to despair and madness and drink, after a loss. Has been one of them.]

I’m glad you have him back. I’m sorry you had to lose him in the first place. Someone like that, with such faith—they’re not easy to find and keep.

[fionnuisce]

It didn't exactly feel great on my side at nineteen years old, so I can understand that.

[Flippant, but what else was there to do? Admit he was beyond traumatized about that night? God forbid.]

...He's a model knight any Master should be endlessly grateful for. I was beyond fortunate to summon him, and I've never once thought otherwise.