solas_ion: (for little there is of my life remaining)
pain that never left with no reprieve )


[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 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: (wandering shadow)
[This morning the video shows Route 30 from ground level; judging by the sounds, a Venonat is the one messing with the 'Gear today. Her trainer sitting on the ground nearby hadn't seemed to notice it was on just yet. Lancer's hair wasn't even tied back, and it looked like he'd been asleep until not too long ago.]

Some holiday. Leave it to humans to come up with something this ridiculous. [The former Servant spoke mostly to himself, running a hand through his dark and disheveled hair.] But knowing you, you probably would have done something for it.

[Rummaging through his backpack, Lancer kept talking to himself.] If I was even with you for this long, I imagine you'd have made some kind of excuse or just told me to shut up and take whatever you gave me. But you seemed to be kind of a pain like that.

[Smirking, he took out a small object and set it on the ground. Beside it, he stuck half of a broken fishing rod into the ground as a marker of some sort--it wasn't a lance, but it would serve its purpose.]

Just my kind of woman. [A sigh.] I know it's not going to get to you, but this is the best I could manage. I don't expect we'll meet again even in this place, so...farewell, my friend.

[His back to the camera, Lancer stood up and ran a hand through his hair again before finally tying it back. The Servant looked over his shoulder, a small smirk on his face.]

It's about time for us to get going. We should find that Cecil kid if we want to get to Violet soon.

Let's go...Fragarach.

[The Venonat gave a happy sound in response, knocking over the Pokegear and turning off the video in her rush to hop over to her Trainer.]
solas_ion: (church on the hill)
[Well hello there, residents of Johto. On your Pokegear and on Route 30 today, you'll find a certain blue-haired Servant with a broken fishing rod and a very displeased look on his face.]

I can take a lot of things in stride, you know. Timelines all over the place? Sure. Some kind of surreal alternate universe? Fine with me, I've been to stranger places than this. Weird monsters? I've seen worse.

But how the hell does a fishing rod just spontaneously snap in half?

[Life just isn't fair when you have the lowest Luck stat of pretty much anyone in your canon. Isn't it sad--wait, wrong game What he's not saying is how he didn't even catch anything; every time he tried, a Magikarp snapped his line. Annoyed? A tiny bit. He's starting to catch on that the universe might just hate him.]

...I'd ask 'who'd I piss off to deserve this', but I have a feeling it'd be a long list.

[Including quite a few women, a goddess, several armies...the list went on and on, and that wasn't even counting everyone he crossed as a Servant.]

Ah, well. All things considered, guess I can't complain. But if the next fishing rod is this brittle, someone's going to catch hell for it.

Guess it's back to Cherrygrove, at any rate; Olldóiteán, Aigéan, let's go.

[A Houndour and Poliwag could be seen for a moment in the background, Lancer muttering to himself in an annoyed tone of voice before cutting off the video.]


solas_ion: (Default)
Lancer || Cu Chulainn




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