solas_ion: (premonition of a storm)
So are we just not gonna talk about how the apparent end of the world got called off at the last minute?

[Beat.]

No? No. Okay, whatever.

[Shrugging his shoulders, Lancer dismissed the thought and moved on to the next subject.]

Y'know, yesterday marked two years I've been here? And it's not really something I ever gave much thought to, but...hell, two years is a long time when you're not constantly fighting. I'm still not sure how you humans deal with a life this boring, but I guess it ain't all that bad. That's two years I shouldn't even have been alive for, so complaining would be pretty stupid even for me.

[He laughed, a rough but not unfriendly sound that sounded almost like barking.]

I guess what I'm kinda drivin' at here is...I've seen a lot of people come and go--people I gave a damn about, and I'd be a liar if I said I don't miss the hell out of them. But I'm pretty grateful I got the chance t' meet anyone here in the first place.

[As if he'd just realized the sentimental nonsense he was saying, Lancer paused somewhat awkwardly.]

...Hell, I must sound like I've finally lost it. Maybe I have. Doesn't matter, I guess. Listen, I ain't really sure where I'll be around the 13th, but if anybody wants to meet me for a drink around then or anytime, really let me know.

[It seemed he wasn't going to elaborate on why the 13th specifically; even if he was, it was right about then a Houndoom came poking her nose in his face demanding attention. Scratching her lightly behind the ears, Lancer stopped the video without another word.]
solas_ion: (for little there is of my life remaining)
pain that never left with no reprieve )

[video]

[The hovering camera focused on the back of a figure in black, dark blue hair swaying faintly in the occasional breeze as he walked about five feet in front of the camera. He stood straight and proud as ever; his current emotions aside, he would never allow himself to appear any other way.]

[The concerned buzzing of a Venomoth and the beat of its wings the only indicator of who held the Pokegear, anyone fluent in its language might have been able to tell the insect was saying 'Something's wrong.']

[And of course something was wrong; Lancer seemingly refused to face the camera, assuming he knew it was on.]


Fragarach. Turn that off--knew I shouldn't have told you how to use it.

[And thirdly, there was no emotion in his voice. Bright, cheerful, charismatic Lancer spoke in a near-total deadpan tone. When the Venomoth buzzed in response, Lancer sighed. Hands in his pockets, he still refused to look back at Fragarach and the camera she held. But when he spoke again, it was a little louder--as if Lancer was adressing someone watching rather than his Venomoth.]

What did I tell you, kid? [Calm, dismissive. The flat tone had faded somewhat, the former Servant's voice steady as ever with an added note of 'I told you so'.]

[He stopped walking, standing tall on an empty road. Aside from the Venomoth holding the camera, Servant Lancer was completely alone on the route he currently walked. No Olldóiteán, no Liath Macha or Dub Sainglend...and no sign of Connla.]

[He had always expected this day to come. How many had Cu Chulainn lost? His brother Ferdiad, dead by Lancer's own hand. Scathach, the teacher that had been so dear to his heart, separated from the mortal world and doomed to a fate unknown to him. His dearest and only love Emer, dead for at least two milennia now.]

[And now his only son, lost to him once through a misunderstanding and Lancer's own blade...now surely lost forever through no more than the whim of an extradimensional reality.]


Good luck never lasts.

[Johto had been as good as paradise to him and better. So if he was to continue losing all that mattered...that was fine. Even though it ached more than his own lance had when it cut through his heart, it was alright. Servant Lancer would simply go back to doing what he always had, and be a guard against whoever or whatever would threaten this place that was to be his homeland. So that those who were happy in this place could stay that way.]

[The Hound of Ulster would remain a proud Knight of the Red Branch until such time when this place would send him to his third and final end.]
solas_ion: (clashing souls)
[For those that knew him both in Johto and in Fuyuki, it was likely obvious that Lancer was not the type to get genuinely angry. And for good reason. With his summoning as Lancer he lost the ability to snap into a warp spasm that would kill hundreds, but the former Servant still made sure to keep his anger in check at all times. He would get annoyed or irritated, but in or out of combat he was a laid-back individual who was nearly impossible to push far enough to send over the edge.]

Who the hell is responsible for this?!

[So when the video broadcast showed the calm and amiable Hound of Ulster snarling like he was ready to kill the next person he saw, it should have been painfully obvious that something was fundamentally wrong. Lancer never snapped that badly, because he knew damn well what kind of stupid things he could do when angry with or without a ríastrad.]

[At this point, however? Controlling his emotions was a distant thought so far in the back of Lancer's mind he'd need a map and binoculars to find it. His expression was the enraged look of a literal one-man army, crimson eyes burning and sharply focused.]


I want answers. Now. [And as he continued in a tone that suggested any answer he heard had damn well better be the right one, the reason for his uncharacteristic anger was made clear:]

What happened to Connla and who do I have to kill to fix it?!

[Gods help anyone that crosses him, because papa wolfhound is pissed.]
solas_ion: (unmei no yoru)
File this under 'Reasons Nao Needs To Stop Reading The Mythology'. Figured I'd throw it here just because...because shush. /)_(\ /flees

ford of the forked branch )

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