Oh.
Oh dear. He came.
PERHAPS THIS WAS A MISTAKE.
But more mistake-like is the fact that apparently
tags are sorted alphabetically and not order applied so the jokes I made in the tags are now ruined forever.
For the record the proper order is...
"holy grail war, (except that's actually lies) characters the originals, (that's also a lie), fictional servants, (but they're historical in the setting), (just don't think about it), tayhine"
Lovely humor, even if I don't recognize the character
...I'll fix that issue. By the end.
I've never actually
followed through with explaining Tayhine's variants to the fullest I could because they're so different it's hard to reconcile internally that they're the same as the bundle of "joy" that grows up in a brothel.
But they all get called 'Tayhine Lustruv' and all kind of act the same, they just have different years of experience from which they base their answers to questions.
...The same Nature, with a different History, I guess is the best way to put it.
and felt like you over-used people's hair colors as descriptors.
This is because Lustruv's outfit at this juncture is nondescript. I can't pour loving description into "cream colored blouse". And it's not important that she's wearing a cream colored blouse.
But fine, Lustruv?
She'll soon look like this.
And Archer is basically the
same, except womanly-er (I'd use "sexier" but that feels like the wrong word to use somehow). Since she's actually got the years of age to develop a more womanly and less girlish frame.
...And if you think I overused hair colors as descriptors you are absolutely correct
It's just... How do you clarify who's talking when you have a teenage girl and a teenage girl but you can't tell the audience their names?
Since you can't tell the name of one without telling the name of the other (that would end up revealing the trick); something else has to be used.
I mean, it's even worse since it's actually
literally the same person twice, so I have to actually
lie about their coloring to distinguish between them.
But I know this is a thing I fall back on and it's probably a bad habit but it comes from the fact that I try to build stories where everybody has different color schemes.
Shade. Trick. Borrow. This has been written up for a good 25 minutes but I spent time rephrasing the above block so bleh.
---
Climbing up the steps, after putting on a thicker shirt and shorts--
"Archer, stop following me."
"Master, that would be a bad idea."
"Archer. Stop." She commanded. But she didn't command, she 'ordered'.
She paused, but inched forward more. "..."
Archer felt the flow of mana shrink to a drip.
Slowly, very very slowly, but after a few minutes it finally had reached actually only a drip compared to the previous running faucet.
"Lustruv;" Archer started.
"Shut up," Lustruv turned away before pulling her head back to gaze at her Servant.
"I--" Archer--Archer--
«Archer» was not the most accurate class for her.
«Caster» would have been more "accurate". But «Caster» she was not, despite being exclusively a spellcaster.
«Archer»--or rather, "ranged attacker". Thrower of swords. Bowmaster. Wasteful king. These were all "Archers". So why couldn't a mage whose only virtue was the Concept of "Arrow" become an Archer?
Lustruv's thoughts. She realized this.
[If Archer is an Archer, then so am I...
But I am a magus. I have no skill in that regard.
What...happened to her that didn't happen to me that made her become this?]
"Master."
[--!]
"Fa--Roliav is not going to talk to you, you must know."
[Clearly, Archer's--]
"No," Archer interrupted. "I am not. I can still remember how I was when I was you. I asked that same question when my Archer--"
"--When my Archer said that she didn't want to astralize. That it would remind her of something painful. I am not having any difficulty getting used to this. It is not new to me."
Lustruv waited. But two seconds after Archer finished--"That is not what I was going to ask. As you aren't me, please don't talk for me."
"But, Lustruv, daughter of Roliav, given the name of Tayhine--that is who we are;" Archer crossed her arms.
"FINE."
"Then, Lustruv, daughter of Roliav, shall we go pay a visit to... ... Lancer? No, it must be Saber."
"...What?"
"I told you already--" Archer sighed.
"I said 'my Archer' already. As in 'the Archer I summoned'. In the Grail War I participated in already."
"Ah--"
"So, do you know what that means?"
"That means I know all the Servants already. Unless they've changed, like I have in place of my own Archer."
"Y-yes, I-I-"
"...You're really nervous."
"Y-You're..."
"Ah, of course;" Archer popped her hip in relaxation. "My existence unnerves you in many ways, I imagine."
"S-s-"
"No, don't be sorry. At least, to me.
Say sorry to yourself, for clutching to the Code."
"Th--"
"Staff. Code. Half of the Crest. However you refer to it, you are crippled without it."
Archer thrust her hand forward in a grip on the air, bringing her other hand above, in a perfect straight line from the theoretical solid object she could be holding in her right hand.
And out from her two hands came purple swirls, snapping into discs and at the tip creating a four-way split, with a ring connecting the edges of the splits together, not unlike a flower of four petals, half of each petal wilting majorly.
"Just like I am, honestly." Archer spun her staff, miraculously not hitting the narrow walls.
"A-ah..." Lustruv stared in her awed state again.
"This reminds me. You think of it as 'projection' and 'reinforcement' still;" Archer stated.
"Ye--"
"It
isn't, it isn't at all. Don't make that mistake anymore. You can't create anything but that staff, and you can't improve anything except for it either.
But that is because, like a sword and its sheath, you are perfectly designed for one thing and one thing alone--and that staff is, quite literally, your other half."
Archer smiled, or did she smirk? "Just like I am the older half of you," she shrugged. "But as you still have not lost that fire in your eyes, I suppose I must concede defeat," Archer said as she became particles of light and vanished.
"A-A-A--Ar-"
«Still here,» Archer's voice rang out. «Just astralized as you asked.»
"That...still wasn't what I wanted."
Archer materialized. "Should... I should assume I can't predict you, shouldn't I?"
"P-please let me actually think and talk, yes."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Archer! Stop boring into me with your eyes," Lustruv whirled around--
Archer had curled up on the floor and had her eyes closed.
But now, she took the cattiest possible face.
"Stop guessing what
I'm doing."
"N-n..." Lustruv sighed. "I can't help it."
"I know that you can't."
"Th--"
Archer breathed.
"--en why?" they said in unison. But Archer continued.
"For you can
learn to do it. Just resist it... well, resist
me. My me-ness is different than your self-ness; but it isn't different enough..." Archer licked her lips.
"Y'know, this is just going to give you a headache anyway. Just leave it at that, and don't think too hard about it."
"Oh..okay;" Lustruv smiled.
"That!" Archer screamed. Lustruv cowed.
"Wha--"
"That's the cutest you can be."
"Huh?"
"You were complaining that you weren't like me. In look; at least.
But that cuteness is something I wish I could still represent. Your angelic innocence.
I have seen and done far too much to be able to fairly reproduce such a feat; and for that reason I must yield to you in so much, Master."
"Um, could you...stop calling me Master?"
"No, Master Lustruv, daughter of Roliav, you cannot even
Command me to do that.
I mean, you could, but I probably wouldn't obey it.
After all, a Servant calls their Master thusly."
"Ple--" Lustruv's face was approaching the color of her eyes.
"Ah, before I forget," Archer whispered something. Her eyes switched to green, her hair becoming a darkened purple very unlike Lustruv's. "We shouldn't look too alike."
"Of-of..." Lustruv sat down on the top of the staircase before its bend.
"Ah? You... Oh... Of course you..." Archer spoke broken pieces of her thoughts, which were broken by her words. [How could... you envy me... hate that I don't match you.]
And Archer undid her guise as fast as she did it up, her every color matching Lustruv's own; despite their outfits being different.
And Lustruv still
hated that. She wanted to be Archer already, she wanted to look like that.
"Lustruv;" Archer stated. "We still have the guest to go greet."
Lustruv smiled. "Yes, we do!" And she ran, hopping up the steps.
Archer rocketed up the steps in two blind bounds.
Lustruv opened the door--And
an arrow was shot. "He--"
Lustruv's--No, Archer's staff suddenly was crossed over Lustruv's, and both took the same glow. Green, shining, some of the wood grains glowing and others buried.
"Shoot!" Archer
incanted. Four sets of seven or so blue cocentric circles created water-ripple patterns in the air around her, and out of each flew a white line; after which each portal faded away as it expanded--just like a drop of water had broken a lake's surface tension.
Lustruv dared not move at all, for her hair had just been prematurely snipped of its split ends. Had she been taller, that would have been her shoulder instead.
For once, she was thankful to have evaded a third growth spurt for the time being.
"ARCHER!" Archer shouted towards the foe.
"Caster," the mysterious being walked out of the trees, having clearly dodged the 'arrows'.
Lustruv almost laughed. Archer calling another Servant Archer, Archer being called Caster?
But so far, these did not seem to be incorrect assumptions. After all, Archer wielded a staff, and not-Archer held a bow.
But on each of not-Archer's hips was a sword. Both in white glowing ivory-like sheaths.
«Assassin. One... The gold sword is ignorable. It is nothing to fear.»
«Understood, Archer.» Lustruv pondered for a moment. «Does this mean... I can fight?»
«Against Assassin, probably.»
"Caster. You would fight me?"
"You challenged me by coming here. I would be remiss to not fight you."
"I... was chased here, actually."
"Haa? By who?"
Lustruv interrupted the Servants.
"Umm, would you care for some breakfast, then? If you don't want to fight..."
"You--" Archer whirled around. "You do not invite your
enemies into your house! Especially for breakfasts!"
"...Why not? If she doesn't want to fight, she doesn't want to fight."
"I..." the fake Archer considered it. "It would be nice, but I am fine. I believe my Master would object to forming an alliance with somebody he does not know, anyway."
"Very well," Lustruv bowed. "Goodbye, then?"
"Yes," not-Archer left through the woods, her teal outfit's split revealing her legs now that Lustruv's eyes had adjusted.
Things to be jealous of, unfortunately for Lustruv, were already a theme of today, and she simply had a feeling that all of the Servants would be that way.
But she could dismiss most of thm. After all, what Hero doesn't look Heroic? Somebody with her frame--waifish and tiny at that moment--isn't heroic in appearance, no matter how great their deeds.
But looking at herself, she could only feel jealousy. 'Can I achieve that'? She knew that Archer had said she could, but she doubted. She doubted every single thing she had seen or realized internally through her sight that day...so why not add to this?
And though it was not something she saw, Archer's claim of knowing every Servant... Lustruv doubted that the most of all.
But no longer could she fairly doubt...Assuming that was in fact Assassin as she claimed.
"So, we know there are two Servants out already;" Archer mused as Tayhine ate breakfast of egg, rice, and sausage. And at least two glasses of milk were drunk so far--a new gallon had been opened and rested on the table.
--Archer flinched. "You..eat sausage."
"Y-yes..." Lustruv cowered again, as she seemed so prone to do.
"That's just surprising to me. You--Er, I; never ate sausages for breakfast.
Especially not this day."
"What did you eat today?"
"...An orange."
"Um, Archer, surely you know that a growing girl needs to eat a lot of food, right?"
"But... you're not growing right now."
"S-So?!" Lustruv fumed. "I-I-I I NEED THE FOOD FOR WHEN I START!"
"Oh, do you now?"
"You set up a bounded field, right?" Lustruv diverted.
"Yes. You're going to drink the whole gallon?"
"Y-ye--"
"Hoping that that tale is true?"
"N-N-NO!" Lustruv's face truly matched her eyes now.
"That reaction just tells me that you do hope that."
"ARCHER! SHUT UP!"
Archer nodded. And smirked, as she always did.
She just wondered one thing.
'Will she make the mistake of trying to go to school?'
And slowly, slowly, slowly, Lustruv ate.
So slowly that Archer felt like taking a nap. Not because she needed the nap.
Just because she loved napping as a concept. She wished that Napping had been hers, but unfortunately the only variation of Lustruv that qualified as a Heroic Spirit must have morphed their Concept of Arrow to something offensive.
Though it seemed to Her that Her Master would never want to research in that direction, at the present moment.
But she wanted to be wrong; desperately so. She wished to be wrong with her very being.
But she had not yet won, so it was a wish that would never be granted, for a Lustruv unwilling to fight would be a Lustruv unable to defend.
As Archer herself knew from her own past, when she lost her own Servant to that recalcitrance.
Yes, that was a terrible way to have lost her Servant. But that did not stop her.
She decided, Servantless or not, she was still a participant in the Grail War, and it was her goal to win.
At least, against the Servant that slew her own; if not against all of them.
Archer wished she could give this Lustruv that chance, that experience, though she knew that she lacked one important thing.
She wasn't her Archer, but she was only herself, inflated through future propagations of her story.
But, at least, slight exaggerations over time built towards creating something that she could not only call her own, but something that actually never existed. A creation of pure fiction--nothing more than application of an item and its direct counter, over and over...
But that was her victory, that was her moment to shine, and it was the most remembered moment, the one she loved to brag about and the one a number transcribed. Thus, by leaving out just a few details, it grew to something it could never have been.
And that thing that could never be was nothing else than Archer's ideal Phantasm, one that converted her weaknesses into strengths.
...After all, if you needed water but it was all in the sky, you were dead in the desert right then, so when it all came back to you it wouldn't matter to somebody wanting to kill you.
---
Maybe I should increase the time steps.
