[x] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
I have no idea where to even begin to find out who this could be... But that doesn't really matter! Hope for hope's sake!
[X] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
[x] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
[x] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
I want to talk about this option for a little bit.
Because in a hypothetical alternative universe where Edward was a Servant, this could be the option that summons him. Someone who wants to belong. To love and be loved. To find where you belong and hold it tight to your chest.
But there's one key difference between him and whoever this Servant really is. Edward would never admit these things—would never say out loud or even think them. And if you push him on them he won't break down and admit the truth. He'll deflect. He'll defend. He'll run away. It's how he's lived his whole life: two steps away from human connection because he's so terrified of wanting it. Of admitting that he wants it.
You don't heal a man like that. You don't confront him and force him to change. It won't work.
You have to let him heal himself.
And you know how you do that, with a man like Edward Dempsey?
You let him help heal someone else.
You give him someone who's a lot like him—someone he can see from the outside, whose flaws and hopes and dreams he can empathise with and consider and confront and in that process come to consider and confront his own. Someone he can't run away from no matter what. Someone he can connect with.
Like a Servant who dreams the way he does. Someone in whom he sees not a mirror—because the man Edward sees in the mirror is not a child of longing and worry and eagerness, oh no—but rather hope. Hope for them... and, one day, when he's finally come to admit it, hope for himself.
I want Edward to have that hope. So I'm voting for this.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
I would really rather not have an anxious or spiteful Servant considering the MC's already neurotic temperament. Emotional turmoil is all well and good, but having two main characters like that is a but much I think. Let this first Servant be a positive character, I'm pretty sure the MC needs it.
I forgot to mention, since the last vote was tied, I used a coinflip to decide. For all binary choices, that will be the method used. For choices with 3 or more, in the unlikely event of a three way tie, I'll pick personally.
You're using your Reinforcement, your arms and hands free for you to use your chains, but gods, you barely feel like you need to. A simple jump takes you up to the rooftop of the building across the way from you, and from there it's easy enough to start moving towards the civic center. Jumps that you'd have to supplement with a lot of energy barely take any effort at all, and you realise with a little bit of almost-melancholy that you don't even need your chains to help you.
No you fool, don't you see? Now that you're superpowered you can swing on your chains like Spider-man!
With those thoughts in your mind, you're ready for when your instincts start to scream at you, though even without them you'd have heard the whistle and crackle of soaring flames, the screaming of some horrible monster. You've already jumped and you can't really jump off of thin air, but fortunately, you've got some help. With a thought, your shield appears in your arms and you twist just in time for the fireball to slam into it, golden flames spilling out around your sides and heating the metal around your arms just enough to be uncomfortable. What's distinctly more than uncomfortable is the fact that you've been pushed off course, and you only just managed to slam one of the prongs of your shield into the crumbling concrete, arresting your movement and distinctly not tearing your arm off from the force. More evidence for that impossible conclusion, but you can't think about that now, not yet. The screaming still hasn't stopped, and you can see golden streams of fire above you.
You take a deep breath and let your shield disappear, your chains whipping out as you launch them upwards, blades digging into the top of the building. With your newfound strength it's easy to leap upwards, letting your chains retract and pull you up, before whipping back around your arms, ready to be used again. Face to face with a horrible fire-breathing monster is, unfortunately, not that uncommon for you, so you're a little calmer than you might be.
Yeah you do it Ed, you're the best around, nothing could possibly-
At least, until you see a woman's face.
Lavender hair streaked with silver falls in messy waves down to the small of her back, the wind whipped up by the heat of the flames below making it blow around in the air. Her eyes are covered by something that looks like a mask growing from either side of her face, golden scales bursting from her temples and growing until they blocked her vision completely. Her mouth is open in a wordless snarl, teeth filed to sharp points illuminated by the glow of flames down her throat, trails of something dark spilling down to her chin and the neck below. In one hand she holds dark, pulsing reins that seem to vanish into the construct below, and in the other she brandishes a broken staff, the delicate circular tip shattered in half into ugly, irregular spikes. A form-fitting dress of deep-purple covers her from her chest down, and you have to think she's got a kind of unearthly beauty despite the strange features.
Your eyes reach her waist, and you swallow sharply.
She's a woman from the waist up, but below, there's nothing but burnished golden steel and matching scales. Her body simply melts into the metal, skin spreading from the point of contact and reaching around the construct like wires or nerves. It grows into sinew and muscle around the wheels, tendons and bone where there would be bolts and connecting struts. It's a mangled mockery of a once-great chariot, the shine it gives off corrupted and tainted. From the front, where there should be horses hitched, grow the bodies of two serpentine dragons, wingless and legless, simply sprouting halfway from the chariot like a parody of limbs. Their eyes are black and shot with red veins, their mouths open in snarls that match their mistress's, and after one moment of horror, realization hits you.
No one Enforcer handled every Grail War, and not all Enforcers survived their deployments. But you still gathered information, sent it back as you could, gave every advantage to every other Enforcer that you could. You recognise what this thing should be, from a couple of pictures and reports sent back from a small War in Belgium, four Servants, barely enough to qualify as one. Still killed sixty-four people, including all of the Masters, by the time it was over. You recognise the lavender hair, the purple dress, even recognise the chariot despite the fleshy growths that almost obscure it.
You're being hunted by the Witch of Colchis.
Class: Rider
True Name: Medea
Stats:- STR: C -> B END: C -> B AGI: B - > A MAG: A++ LUK: E
Skills:-
Riding: C++
Class Skill of the Rider class, denoting the capacity to control all kinds of mounts and vehicles, whether living or artificial. At this rank, Medea is capable of controlling most animals and vehicles with above-average skill, though she cannot ride any form of Phantasmal Species. The sole exception is her Noble Phantasm, which ordinarily she could control with an effective A++ rank in Riding. Due to her corruption, Medea instead controls her Noble Phantasm as an extension of her own body, increasing her skill and prowess with it.
Magic Resistance: C -> B
Class Skill of the Rider class, expressing a resistance to all forms of thaumaturgy. Medea possesses an unusually high rank in this skill for her class despite her corruption, owing both to her expertise and the nature of her change. Cancels all spells below three verses, including high-thaumaturgy and greater rituals.
High-Speed Divine Words: A -> C
As a witch from the Age of the Gods, Medea would ordinarily be capable of casting spells on the level of high-thaumaturgy with but a single word, even outside of the Caster class. Due to her corruption, this skill has been ranked down, and she requires a full sentence to cast spells of that level.
Divinity: C -> D
A mark of divine lineage, conferring various bonuses and drawbacks depending on the deity one is related to. Ordinarily, Medea would possess a middling rank in this skill as Helios' granddaughter, but her corruption into a monster has degraded this skill's rank. Currently, she experiences only a mild lessening of her mana cost while basking in the sun's rays, though her connection to Fuyuki's mud makes such a benefit irrelevant.
Noble Phantasm:-
Heiress Helios: Escape on the Wings of Light: Anti-Army (A)
The chariot upon which Medea fled from Corinth upon committing her murders, sent by her grandfather Helios, the god of the sun. Pulled by two golden dragons, this would originally have functioned as both offense and defence for Medea, allowing her a safe haven among the skies while raining down dragonbreath and magecraft upon those below her. However, due to the corruption staining Fuyuki, Medea and her Noble Phantasm have both been warped.
Rather than a chariot she can dismiss and summon at will, Medea has fused with her chariot and dragons, becoming a chimeric beast of scale, steel, and Servant. Doing so has ranked up her physical stats and her Magic Resistance skill and increased her control over her mount, at the cost of her sanity being diluted among three minds and further corroded by her corruption. By opening her draconic mouths, Medea can spill dragon's teeth into the world below, instantly raising an army of dragon-tooth warriors to destroy all those they come across, in addition to possessing the considerable might of a dragon's breath still. So long as one head remains, whether human or draconic, Rider will not die, and can retreat to restore herself as she gorges upon the infinite mana provided by the mud of Fuyuki.
Rip in pastrami. Rider Medea raw, and also shows this isn't just a nostalgia-zone but its own war where anything goes. I do have to appreciate how Ed's so read-up on the Enforcer Wikipedia that he just instantly knows her capabilities though, it's a nice touch for how widespread lesser Grail Wars have gotten and how long he's spent dealing with them. Also the design's just really cool, I love how she's some fucked up Warhammer 40k monster fused with her chariot into some horrible chimera monstrosity. Honestly for half of that description I thought it was Gorgon somehow. Good thing Ed's a knight class now! And that Medea got her casting time nerfed.
Medea screams in a language you can't understand and her staff glows, and as soon as the first twisted syllable left her mouth you're moving. Getting close is about the only way you can think to finish this quickly, and you really don't want to test out what kind of magecraft she has access to in this twisted state. Arrows of light rain down behind you, but you're so goddamn fast compared to how you were before! Servants should easily outclass you even with your preparations, but now you're not just keeping up, you're actually managing to dodge the burning light she sends your way. She might be able to fly around, but if you get onto the chariot itself, you're pretty sure you can take care of her in melee before anything bad can happen.
It seems crazy, but you've committed, so you're going to commit. A blast of flames scorches your hair as your duck under it, before a second one just about clips the bottom of your left boot as you throw yourself to the side. By the time you're done dodging both, Medea has cast another spell, and this time you've got to summon your shield to defend yourself. Thorns of pure white slam into your shield one after another, but you stand your ground, your boots digging into the concrete around you as you crouch behind the seemingly impenetrable steel. It vanishes as soon as the assault stops, and your chains unwind and launch upwards, the blades digging into the softer underbelly of one of the dragons as you dash beneath the chariot.
There's a pull upwards and you know what she's trying to do, lift you up before you can get purchase and make you a sitting duck, but you're faster than she is. With a wrench of your arms and another powerful kick, you launch yourself upwards towards her, your chains retracting and yanking you up with them. You're swinging at an angle, and the dragons can't twist their heads fast enough as you disappear behind them. Everything's going about perfect, and you really don't have time to worry about what'll happen if it's not. Your arc takes you to the back of the chariot, behind Medea, and you're moving the moment you touch down, grasping hands reaching for her head, one in front, one behind, a flash of scarlet on your left. With your newfound strength, you let out a grunt as you twist.
You need to move now but when you try to push away, you feel a piercing pain in your leg, crying out half from the sheer shock. A glance down reveals a dull, golden claw sprouting from the fleshy surface of the chariot, all three talons sunk deep into your leg. Medea's mouth twists into a hellish grin, and this close you can smell the acrid, burning stench of the mud that spills from her lips like a bloodhound slavering over its kill. The dragons are rumbling below you, but they don't seem to be moving, letting their master go for the kill as she lets go of the reins. Her hand draws close, and you see the dirty claws that burst from her gloves, reaching up, nearly at your throat-
There's a high-pitched whistle through the air, and your eyes widen.
Something slams into the chariot and explodes the next second, and your vision goes white for a moment. You barely have a chance to catch the breath that was knocked out of you when your back hits something hard, and miraculously, whatever you hit gives instead of your body splattering on impact. You crash through another hard something before coming to a stop, and as you blink away the ash and crumbling rubble, you can see the ruins of the building you were knocked through starting to collapse.
You panic as you hear more whistling, more explosions, more screaming from the twisted mockery of Medea that had you dead to rights a few moments ago, and it's all you can do to summon your shield and brace yourself for the crumbling concrete that batters down on you. A few smaller bits and pieces fall and strike you, but you've wedged the shield between the ground and the still-standing wall behind you, enough that you can huddle beneath it a little. When you give it an experimental nudge, the rubble above starts to crumble and fall, and you freeze instantly.
Class: Assassin
True Name: The Unknown Soldier
Stats:- STR: E END: E AGI: E MAG: E -> A++ LUK: E
Skills:- Presence Concealment: C- -> X
Class Skill of the Assassin class, allowing the wielder in question to hide their presence as a Servant. The Unknown Soldier's manifestations would ordinarily b capable of appearing as simple humans to the naked eye, though continuous observation would reveal the façade of life they cling to. In the blasted hellscape of Fuyuki and under the corruption of the mud, they have no use for this skill, revealing themselves for the walking dead that they are at all times.
Military Tactics: C
Tactical knowledge meant not for duels, but for battles with many soldiers on each side. The effectiveness of Anti-Army Noble Phantasms utilized by the Unknown Soldier is raised, while the effectiveness of Anti-Army Noble Phantasms used against them are reduced. As their consciousness is distributed across all their manifestations, the Soldier suffers no degradation to this skill despite their corruption.
Noble Phantasm:-
The Unknown Soldier: Dulce Et Decorum Est (Anti-Army – EX)
There is no difference between the Unknown Soldier's manifestation as a Servant and the crystallization of their "legend", such as it is. They are in essence a living Noble Phantasm, constantly under its effects and incapable of suppressing or deactivating it, as to do so would kill them. The Soldier is capable of manifesting countless bodies at minimal mana cost, their core distributed across their manifestations. Each one is as weak as a human, and each possesses weaponry appropriate for a soldier that died in one of the many wars that have plagued human history.
By expanding their supply of mana and entrenching themselves within the world they are summoned to, the Unknown Soldier is capable of increasing the amount of bodies they can maintain, as well as advancing the technology they are capable of bringing to bear. While they may start with muskets and bayonets, given time, they can outfit themselves with weapons up to the level of those deployed in the Second World War, theoretically up to and including the power of an atomic bomb.
Well the good news is that the blackened Servants seem to be just a bunch of superpowered corrupted assholes wandering around getting in fights with each other rather than a unified force. It's kind of interesting to note that Medea's insane because of fusing with her chariot's dragons and just turning into a three-way mental mush when TUS is also a mental hive mind/amalgamation, not enough data points to call a trend just interesting to note.
Of course speaking of TUS we better hope real bad that they haven't had enough Prep Time to summon a fuckin nuke because I think that's a bit much for Ed-boy to Lord Camelot at this point.
You're trapped. You're trapped and if you move too much a whole four stories worth of concrete is going to come tumbling down onto you. You don't want to risk being killed by it, but even if it wouldn't kill you, you're struck with thoughts of being trapped under there, not hurt enough to die and not strong enough to free yourself, just wasting away until you're found or you die of hunger or thirst. Maybe you could cast a spell to help, but the moment you do you know Medea will know where you are, and if you screw it up you'll just be stuck waiting for her
You shiver.
Breathe.
There's a way out. There's always a way out.
The battle outside is raging on, mortar fire and screaming spells exchanged between the two Servants, and you wish, hah, you wish you had one of your own. If you could summon one, they could help. If you could summon one, they could protect you. If you could summon one, they could save you. But the summoning system was shot, wasn't it? The only hope you can think of, dead and gone before you could even try it out.
There's a flash of scarlet on your left hand.
Hell, worth a shot.
You can't move it to check, not with your arm propping up your shield, so you'll just have to hope. You close your eyes, reaching out with your right hand, and begin to chant.
Anyway on to the choices. Hrmmmmm. Intresting how they're attached to seasons, and very intriguing how we're allowed hints of the personality and themes involved before anything about identity and class.
[ ] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
This feels a bit too obviously safe. Like there's a penny that'll have to drop sooner or later, or they'll just be so shounen-y and "I'm gonna be hokage someday" that it'll drive Ed insane. In the absolute worst-case scenario, and I'm not saying it will happen just what my writer brain imagines could, this Servant could become analagous to Niamh in Ed's mind due to their sunny superiority and just kind of make him feel like shit for existing.
[ ] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
This, conversely, feels a bit too... I don't want to say on-the-nose because that implies bad writing, what I mean more it seems a bit too surface-level with how it relates to Ed's personality. He's a guy who wants to be loved and wanted etc, but what happens when you put him with a Servant who also, semi-overtly, wants that? Probably some projected self-hatred and/or co-dependence tbh. And I'm not saying that couldn't be worked through, I'm just saying there's more to working on your problems than coming to embody the pointing Spider-Men meme.
[ ] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
Spite, meanwhile, is a powerful motivator. It's toxic and harmful held too long and in great quantities but it's fantastic for getting an initial kick and I feel Ed probably has these emotions too buried deep down. He ran away because he was the cast-off, the inferior child to Niamh, and now that he's a Demi-Servant that's probably gonna come rushing back to the fore in the context of "fuck you now I can shatter cinderblocks with my dick". And I think it's kinda interesting for that to be compared and contrasted with a Servant that feels that way. Superhuman legend deified by human history but insecure and raging against something that had already categorised them as less-than-worthy. I think that's the Servant I want to see with Ed, so
[X] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
Plus if we're taking the seasonal imagery to mean anything at all, winter feels the most appropriate to Ed. He's stuck in a rut, emotionally numbed, all but hibernating through his life waiting for a sign of spring - the one season not represented in the choice spread. This combined with Galahad could help shock him out of that.
[X] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
Man Dark Souls boss Rider Medea who has been fused to her Chariot via corruption was an unexpected and enjoyable twist, I saw a Rider take on her once but this is a new and fascinating direction.
I'm just a touch worried though because Fuyuki Servants in different classes plus Cascade Failure Servants with body horror featuring leads to the worrying possibility of Cu Alter as this messes Berserker or Alcides - Herc as the Archer.
The narrative style goes great with Edward's enjoyable characterisation. The argument for spite has swayed me as I always did have a thing for the darker spectrum of Servants. So -
[X] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
[X] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
[ ] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
Humm... well the only canon Servant I can think of that has any sort of 'growth narrative' to them is Saber Lily - they quite literally have a Skill representing that they're still developing as a hero and have yet to 'bloom' - and the warm, hopeful, reassuring presence isn't unfitting for them. If it's an OC Heroic Spirit then I don't really know where to start, because 'nice person who wants to grow' could be a Lily version of just about any hero. If I had to take a guess.... given Ed's use of runes and druidism, and his connection to certain Irish Servants in Cascade Failure, maybe it could be a young version of Setanata/Cu or something?
[ ] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
Well my first thought was Kiyohime, or some other yandere Servant, but upon second thought that doesn't really fit. I can't think of any canon Servants who this description is perfectly fitting for, and as I said earlier I don't know where to start with OCs, but its worth noting that people who are very similar to each other (as Ed & this Servant may very well be) don't always get along - sometimes they come to despise each other for reflecting their flaws - and that Ed doesn't have the greatest track record with Master-Servant relationships.
[ ] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
'Spite and bitterness and determination... to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you' could describe Mordred fairly well, but their anger and personality is more 'hot' compared to this wintery Servant. The only other canon Servant with the right kind of baggage that comes to mind is Karna, but Karna is way more in-control/way better at hiding their feelings than this Servant comes across, so unless its Karna Alter it probably wouldn't be them. Again; don't really know who it could be as an OC Servant, though the 'like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter' part implies its someone who never got to accomplish their revenge in their legend.
[x] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
'Spite and bitterness and determination... to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you' could describe Mordred fairly well, but their anger and personality is more 'hot' compared to this wintery Servant. The only other canon Servant with the right kind of baggage that comes to mind is Karna, but Karna is way more in-control/way better at hiding their feelings than this Servant comes across, so unless its Karna Alter it probably wouldn't be them. Again; don't really know who it could be as an OC Servant, though the 'like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little faster' part implies its someone who either never got to accomplish their revenge in their legend.
[X] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
[X] You feel hope and warmth and spirit, a peaceful summer's day, undercut by a simple, honest yearning. You want to excel, to surpass, to reach the pinnacle that you know you can, if you only could stretch out a little further, a little higher. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them squeeze tight, as though reassuring you that it will be okay.
Your mouth moves again, and this time the shield is close enough to touch. The fire above feels like it will scorch you to your very soul, but...you know what stands behind you, know that you are all that stands between them. You're ashamed of yourself, and you want to make reparations. You're afraid, and you don't want this to be how you die.
But you chose to be a protector, didn't you? This is just upping the scale a little.
We are alike, in that regard. We protect. Always.
Now, do what you were meant to do.
Now, do what you were chosen to do.
You reach outwards with trembling fingers, slipping your arm through the strap and bracing yourself. The fell star will descend upon you soon, and you know you have to carry the weight. But that's what you've always signed up for, and you won't turn your back now.
You look up as the flames draw closer, and you scream defiance when they collide.
I don't really have much to say since a. Sick and b. Tired but Medea and the Unknown Soldier are raw as fuck and I love how you're leaning into the currently-ongoing-apocalypse-but-we're-almost-done-here-folks-promise vibe for Fuyuki. But this passage in particular I did want to highlight because I genuinely love the context and characterization it provides. And the whole vision segment is just dripping with personality and I love how it- it really sells the stakes you know? Without feeling indulgent or saccharine, and there's two distinct speakers who are slightly counter-opposed and canted against each other. With Ed caught somewhere in the middle, between them and between the oncoming fire and everyone behind him. I was sorta cool on the Duty option but this genuinely sold it for me.
[X] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
Edward "All Fucking Is Hatefucking When You Hate Yourself" Dempsey, step right up to see your brand new caaaaar~.
Well ride.
Your brand new ride at least.
But nah I think I'm broadly in line with @ZerbanDaGreat, I want Edward's relationship to have some...more antagonistic vibes. His Servant to be the kind of person he alternately gets along really fucking well with and can't stand, the two of them doing their best impression of a house on fire. While Edward, meanwhile, is categorically unable to do his usual Emotional Disaffection/Cooly Withdraw For A Smoke And A Cry routine. Someone who'll get under his skin, work him out of his shell. Someone who'll constantly challenge him on his shit and that mutual friction actually producing growth for both of them.
Fundamentally my issue with Autumn is- I think Edward honestly just isn't that good at healing, himself or others, and his advice kinda boils down to "do as I say, not as I do, which is emotionally cauterize myself and work my 9-to-5 that I hate, kill a pint to take the edge off when I get home and maybe jerk it if I'm feeling lonely". And I sorta agree with Zerban that it's a relationship that could incline itself pretty readily towards codependency. Which...could get ugly, given how absurdly clingy Edward is as a default.
Not that that's a reason not to pick it! I love that sloppy drama, but I'm just kinda illustrating that Autumn's got some sharp metal edges buried in there with the hope. And I'm more intrigued by Winter for how like-and-utterly-unlike Edward it is. A lot of the same frustrations, same spiteful resentment, same anger and hurt just screamed loud instead of buried deep.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
[X] You feel spite and bitterness and determination, the stinging winter that brings blankets of snow and icy death in equal measure. You want to prove them wrong, to tear them down, to rip apart the roots of those that scorned you like you know you could, if you had been a little stronger, a little smarter. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them grip your arm, like they mean to simply pull it off your body.
Other people have given more eloquent reasons for why spite makes right, and I'm definitely feeling it the most out of the three options.
[X] You feel longing and worry and eagerness, the autumn sky in the moments before the storm. You want to belong, to be loved, to find your place in the world and never have to leave it, that place you know exists if you search just a little more, just a little deeper. When your grasp tightens on their hand, you feel them cling to you, as though they're afraid you'll vanish if they let go.
