Everyone there is something of a known quantity, excepting Marie. You've met Sanson before, and it's hard not to get a picture of how they are from your interactions with Jeanne and Dumas, but you've never heard of Marie Antoinette being summoned before, and given what you know about her it's a little bit strange. After a moment's hesitation you set down your bowl and walk off after her, promising yourself you'll speak to Goemon soon. You know you shouldn't be putting it off, but you really, honestly cannot stand him, and he seems fine going back to cuddling with Dumas.
You find her close to the edge of the glade, the thorny barricade stretching up easily three or four times your height. When you'd arrived you'd been stressed and tired enough that you'd missed them in the dark, but now that it's brighter and you're not worried that you'll be attacked out in the open you can appreciate the flowers that bloom up around the base. Roses, mostly, but there's a few others as well, petals dyed white and purple and blue melding together into an unkempt but beautiful wall within the wall, doing just a little to hide that vicious brambles that keep the people inside safe. All Marie is doing is looking over the tangle of growth and tapping her foot, one arm propping up her elbow so a delicate finger can rest on her chin, the sharp nail glinting crimson in the morning sunlight.
It's not from polish, you realise after another moment. Her nails are cut gemstone as well, deep, dark rubies grown from her flesh and fashioned into talons, as though she was a statue to be adorned and decorated as her creator pleased.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" Her voice pulls you from your thoughts, but she hasn't turned to look at you yet, still focused on the flowers. "I liked gardening when I was queen. I think I could really brighten up the place with these if we were going to stay...it's a shame we'll be moving on so soon. I hardly get any time for myself since being called."
"I...suppose it is?" You hadn't really expected that to be how she started off, though if you're honest it's not like you know what you expected. Her telling you to eat cake?
"You came all this way to speak to me and that's how you start out? A lady might feel embarrassed if that's all she can coax out of you." This time she turns, and you finally get a closer look at her. Her gemstone eye is as brilliant as any you've ever seen, and you notice a glinting emerald growing from her tongue almost like a piercing. She's really not what you expected.
Besides the ones that are a part of her, the only adornments she has are the fleur-de-lis pins that keep her twintails in place. The deep red, high-collared coat she wears is tightly buttoned at the front over the modest swell of her chest, folding into neat lapels trimmed with black. It cuts off right at the waist in front, but behind it splits into two tapered tails that sway in the slight breeze. The bone-white leggings she wears below are tight enough that you'd probably have stared a little longer if circumstances were different, and they end in a pair of black riding boots that reach to just below her knee. It's vaguely military, from what you can recall of the older uniforms in your history lessons, but it certainly wouldn't convince anyone she was a soldier. She looks like someone's idea of cavalry, but twisted and altered to eliminate any gauche breach of fashion.
"Sorry. I'm not really one for flowers." It's about all you can think to say, though at least she's smiling instead of the alternative. "Dumas is very open, and I've already met Sanson, so I figured I should try speaking with you first."
"So thoughtful!" She looks up at you with a small smile, cheek resting in her palm as she gives you a once-over. It lingers just long enough to make you blink, before a murmur slips through her lips.
"You wanted to see whether or not I was like all the stories, hm?" It's not a question regardless of how she phrased it, so you don't protest. The mild queasiness in your stomach proves she hit the mark anyway. "It's alright. It's to be expected. I'm not exactly the world's most accomplished Rider, despite the court gossip."
The sudden swerve makes you snort in a kind of embarrassed amusement before you can stop yourself, and Marie's grin grows a hair wider in response, and after a brief pause you just give a half shrug and start to speak again.
"Yeah, I guess. I've never heard of you being summoned, and given how things get warped I half-expected something a little wilder."
"You deal with Servants often, then?" Marie tilts her head, blinking in curiosity. "I suppose you must, given that you're acquainted with Charles."
"More often than most." It takes you a second to remember she's talking about Sanson. "I was an agent for the Clock Tower, I suppose you could call it. When the secret of how to make a Grail got leaked, they started popping up around the world, and we started having to deal with those on top of rogue magi. I met Sanson during a war in Glasgow."
"Was he your Servant, then?" You can't quite suppress the shudder you feel at those words.
"No, no. Enforcers didn't participate, we just sabotaged them. We avoid Servants whenever we can, we can't hope to fight them. Meeting Sanson was just a stroke of bad luck." You really don't like recalling it. Managing to get away from that fucking nightmare of a Berserker had taken enough out of you, watching Sanson cut him in half with a single swing before he turned and fixed you with those eyes of his had chilled you to your core.
"I see...bad luck? He's a rather nice man, all things considered. Unless…" She tapped a finger to her chin again, humming softly. "He decided not to kill you, but he'd been considering it. Enforcers are killers, then?"
"Among other things." You give another half-shrug, though this time it's a little more forced. "We're hired by the Clock Tower to hunt down magi that risk the secrecy of magecraft. They happen to be the kind that put people in danger, so them dying helps everyone out." Mostly.
"I think I understand now. You're the same. Sanctioned killers in the name of justice, is that it?" When she smiles again it's bittersweet, enough to make your stomach twist. "I suppose I'll keep an eye on you as well, then. Charles is already bad enough with how he gets."
"Why do you care?" You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, the thought scratching at the back of your mind like a pet begging to be let out. "He-"
"Killed me, I know. I can't exactly forget it." She tugs down the collar of her coat just a bit, enough that you can see the pale white, perfectly even scar that runs all the way around her neck. "He killed my husband too. But I knew him, you understand? Before that unpleasantness, we were close. I was fond of him, very fond, and I assume the feeling was mutual. He'd kill anyone if ordered, and he'd make certain it didn't hurt. After everything, I was a dead woman regardless. I can only imagine he took it upon himself to kill me lest I ended up torn to pieces by an angry mob if he refused."
"I wasn't a perfect queen, I know that. I certainly didn't help as much as I'd intended to, and I may have been selfish here and there." There's a fire in her voice now despite how even she's keeping it, little spikes of venom slipping through her composure as she crosses her arms. "I know all that, but I hardly deserved death. He knew that too, but it was either kill me or let me be killed, and he wouldn't trust anyone else with that duty. I suppose I could just wallow in all the unfairness and tell anyone and everyone I meet that I despise him and all the people who condemned me, but I'd rather do something productive instead of waste away like that wretch who made this place."
"Avenger?" You'd been kept silent by the sudden swerve the conversation took, but even you couldn't hold your tongue at that. You might not trust the woman, but wretch?
"Avenger." Marie's expression twists into a scowl for a moment, as though the word itself was foul. "I could be that, you know? And yet, I'm not. I chose not to be, and I'm certain she could too if she wanted. If she's going to be satisfied defining herself by how much she hates everyone because she suffered, then fine, but I'm hardly going to pretend I think anything at all of her for it."
You don't know what to say to that, and the silence stretches on just long enough to grow uncomfortable before Marie lets out a slow breath and gives you a softer look.
"...Apologies, Edward. Would you believe this is the first chance I've had to talk like this with someone since I got summoned?" She lets her arms drop to her side, eyes flicking back to the main campsite for an instant. "We've been rushing around the last few days, and I didn't want to distract Jeanne or inspire Dumas to write another book about me. And Charles has been...hah, distant. I can't imagine why. I suppose when I realised how similar the two of you are, I just took it out on you when you gave me an excuse. Not very queenly of me."
"It's fine. I came to you first." Not that it's not a little overwhelming, but if she's been keeping all that bottled up out of necessity you can't really begrudge her the chance to let it out. You still kind of want to leave, though.
"...Hah. You two really are similar, you know that?" There's a distant look in her eyes, and you know she's looking right past you, at the man standing elsewhere in the glade, the man standing above her as he prepared to end her life. "He always wanted to be a doctor, but he was forced into ending lives instead of saving them. Incredible at it too, I didn't feel a thing when he killed me. And he's looked fucking miserable ever since the two of us locked eyes here, so now I can't even take comfort in having someone I care about with me."
She turns to you once again, and this time her gaze is intense enough that you can't even think about breaking it.
"As thanks for letting me get all that off my chest, let me give you some advice, Edward." She reaches up and pokes you just below your neck, just hard enough to make certain you can't possibly be distracted. "You didn't start out wanting to become a killer for money. I don't know why you chose it, I know you think you're probably doing the right thing, but don't let it be you anymore. You'll end up just like him, and everyone around you will suffer for it."
You slap her hand away.
You can't help it, it's just pure instinct. The conversation hasn't been comfortable for you since the minute it started and now it's turned from her using you as a punching-bag to her digging into things you never wanted to think about and you- you can't, you just can't deal with that. Not now, not here.
There's a long moment of silence between the two of you, and you think you see a flash of anger on her face for just a moment before she steps back and looks away.
"I'm not going to apologize. You needed to hear it. If you don't believe me, you go speak to Charles. Ask him about me and see if you can stomach whatever nonsense he has to say."
"You should focus on the mission." There's a chill to your tone, but she brushes it off like it's nothing.
"I'm a third-rate Servant who's only useful for maybe getting the rest out of a tight spot now and again. I'll give everything I can to this, I know what's at stake, but I'll be damned if I get a second shot at life and don't take it, Edward. Maybe you just need to focus on yourself a little more."
That's more than you can take. Without a word of goodbye, you spin around and march off, looking for one of the more secluded spots in the glade so you can just sit down and clear your head for a moment.
"<Master, are you-"
"I'm fine."
It takes you a second to realise that you snarled that with your mouth instead of your thoughts, and that on top of everything else is enough to spike your anger up even more. The thought that Archer didn't deserve that writhing its way past that haze of red doesn't help your mood.
Once you've reached the tree you'd been gunning for, you flop down and sit with your back against it, breathing in and out as deeply as you can. You're calmer after just a few seconds, the years of learning how to meditate and control yourself coming in handy now that you're not caught off guard from Marie Antoinette giving you life advice, and as soon as you're able you reach back out with your mind.
<"Archer? I'm fine. I'm sorry.">
<"I apologise for my insolence, Master. I will do better in the future.">
You grit your teeth, strands of grass ripping from the ground below as you ball your hand into a fist. Marie's words flicker through your head, and the petulant thought that you wouldn't have lashed out at Archer if the queen hadn't provoked you first is pathetic enough that even in your anger, you can tell it's bullshit. If it hadn't been her, it would have been Goemon, or Sanson, or maybe even Dumas or Jeanne.
It wasn't the killing that did it to you, you have to remind yourself. Not just the killing, anyway. Even so, she had...something of a point. You reach out again, doing your best to make your thoughts sound as gentle and apologetic as you can.
<"No, Archer, that was my fault. I was angry because of- it doesn't matter, it was my fault. You didn't do anything wrong.">
A moment passes without response, then another. Just when your stomach starts to twist with worry, you hear her voice again.
<"...If you are certain, Master. Please do not hesitate to tell me if I have displeased you in any way, however. I swear that I will do better if I need to.">
<"I will. I promise.">
That's probably the best you're going to get. It digs into you, frustration at Archer's bizarre behavior twisting up with anger at your own inability to control yourself, but you need to- to focus on the mission. That's all.
That's all.
When your heartbeat scales back down to something approaching normal, you open your eyes and glance back from behind the tree. Circe materialized at some point, floating up above and basking in the sunlight without a care for how Avenger's wards point and gawp, and the sight of it draws a small smile from you. Talking with her again probably wouldn't be good for you, not when you still have a bit of time to try to be productive, but seeing her so carefree despite what you're here to do does relax you a little.
Everything else is as you left it, no sign of Niamh or Avenger, or of Jeanne coming to march you all out of the glade at that. You've plenty of work to get done today, not in the least finally connecting to Chaldea, but for the moment you'd be best served by doing something instead of just twiddling your thumbs.
[ ] Speak with Goemon. You've been putting this off too long, you need some sort of understanding to work with the man. Bad mood or no, it's good sense.
[ ] Speak with Sanson. Even if you're mad at her, you can't deny that Marie might have had some semblance of a point. Maybe talking with Sanson would help you sort that whole mess out.
[ ] Speak with Dumas. He's the only one still there you haven't personally spoken with yet, and it might help to get a feel for what sort of man he is.
[ ] Wake your sister. Frankly, the idea of having to put things off because Niamh overslept in that stupid bed is already giving you a headache. Making sure she's up can't hurt anything except your mood.
