OPEN RP POST DEUX

[formidable]

This a post where I'll RP anything with you and that means ANYTHING. Except smut because I suck at that Got a scenario in mind? I'LL DO IT. Here's some prompts below to help get things moving along if you don't have an idea to play out. The prompts are just prompts, if you have something specific, just let me know either at sweethymns or my AIM (rainsweets). Have at it! ➢ 01. AMUSEMENT PARK: Disneyland? Knotts Berry Farm? Six Flags? A made up amusement park with knockoff characters? Who cares, let's just ride that roller coaster or that giant swing ride! ➤ 02. PARK: Benches, trees, grass, maybe a lake and a basketball or volleyball court. ➢ 03. SNOWY DAY: Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful... or the level of snowfall can be any you wish! Light or heavy, there's going to be some winter related activities somewhere. ➤ 04. DINER: I love food, I really, really, really love food. And so do muses if they like to eat too! This diner seems to have a very HUGE menu with a large variety of dishes! Let's bond over food stuffs! ➢ 05. SICK DAY: Either your muse or my muse is sick. Who's taking care of who? ➤ 06. SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN: Our characters are stuck in a closet and can't get out until there is some kissing, so they better make good use of those seven minutes... DON'T YOU DARE JUDGE ME. ➢ 07. SCHOOL: High school never ends! Or any type of schooling really. So whether it's in class or in the gym, let's try to endure mandatory education! ➤ 08. SURVIVAL HORROR: That old mansion/creepy town/underground science lab/zombie infested city ain't going to be survived by itself. Grab your medicinal herbs and shotguns, let's survive the horror. ➢ 09. WILDCARD: Let's make up shit.

Comments

[psychometer]

[Breakfast is placed on the table after taking very little time to prepare. Toast is in a basket, there's salad of cucumber, cherry tomatoes, lettuce, diced ham, and a light dressing, and lastly, sunny side up eggs with crisp brown edges. They each have their own serving and Lien sits down to pour out some orange juice for the both of them.]

I don't think so. That would be too impressive of a feat for someone like me.

[lansaigh]

I thought you might be hiding something under those.

[ He raises one hand, tapping at the back of it carelessly to indicate the gloves that Lien is wearing— not that he thinks she would have a particular reason for hiding her Command Spells, if she had one. It's the little details he still remembers.

The same hand reaches for a piece of toast. Time to eat. ]

I take it there's no war going on either, then.

[psychometer]

[She blinks at Lancer, after take a bite of toast.]

Oh, these? It's not really to hide anything, but...

[Well... Lien slips of the right handed glove and sure enough, there are are faint marks, unmistakably Command Spells.

There's something else, aside from the Spells that any being that could sense magic would notice; a strong concentration of prana pulses through each fingertip as if wanting to escape.]

[lansaigh]

[ Where Lancer'd felt only a faint undercurrent of prana before— the typical reserve that most ordinary humans have— when the gloves come off, the change is immediate and intense. Command Spells aside, this is an interesting development. ]

I'd call that hiding something.

[ A dry little chuckle, accompanied by a point to her hand with his half-eaten toast. ]

Not very good form of you to lie to your Servant, Master.

[psychometer]

[She makes a face at him and shoves the glove back on, almost fiercely so.]

Please. I didn't lie. You just didn't ask.

[lansaigh]

Hah, I'll remember to ask you better questions, then.

[ He's definitely still laughing a little at her expense, though he does note that yes, she's his new Master, regardless of what the current situation is. This doesn't require strict reverence on his end, but it's something to note. ]

But that decides it. You have the Command Spells, so you are my Master, whether you understand what that means or not.

[psychometer]

... Geez. It's so weird...

[She sighs and leans back in her chair with her arms crossed.]

I knew I was getting into some kind of crap, but I definitely did something really stupid didn't I??

[By the sound of it, she's... definitely not as reserved as she first appeared.]

[lansaigh]

What's this, Master? It almost sounds like a complaint, to me.

[ He says, between a mouthful of egg. Careful, Lien, Cu may be a servant but he's got pride... are you calling him "something stupid"!! ]

[psychometer]

[Lien opens up one eye to glance at him.]

Complaint sounds too blunt. More like... gentle dissent. Yeah. Yeah, that sounds better. [she literally has no right to say that]

[She straightens herself up and clears her throat.]

Anyways, for better or for worse you've got a bond with me now, correct? These Spells are proof of that at the very least. I'll warn you now, that my knowledge of the War is cursory, but at least I know what it is.

[lansaigh]

[ A careful swallow of egg, and Lancer pauses for a moment before getting up out of his chair, taking deliberate and steadfast steps towards the opposite side of the table, where Lien is sitting.

There's a careful moment where he sizes her up— warrior instinct at play— but his expression remains relaxed, casual. ]

If you know about the bond, you know what my obligations are. It's a pain for everyone involved, but it is what it is.

[ But, for honor's sake, he bows his head and lets his long, blue hair brush against his shoulders; a formality to get things started. ]

By my lance, it's my job to bring you victory. [ Look under that bowed head, and Lien might see a little devil of a smile. ]

1/2

[psychometer]

[She looks up at him, fully aware of what he is. A Servant. A being of an entirely different caliber, defined by his heroism of a different age. And here she was, someone who couldn't be called a proper magus or anybody at all.

The weight of the responsibility seems to get heavier by the second.

Still, his actions and declaration actually bring something of a smile to her face and she nods in recognition.]

Who knows what the future holds? But if it's no trouble, I'll depend on you and you can depend on me.

[A beat...]

[psychometer]

[THE MOST SHEEPISH LOOK ON HER FACE.]


... Hopefully this will turn out ok. Hey, this is probably a bad time since we're being serious and all, but I should tell you that I'm not exactly a proper magus.

That wasn't a lie, again, you didn't ask!

[lansaigh]

[ A beat passes, where there should probably be a funny anime sound effect of a bowl hitting someone's head or something.

But comparatively speaking, if Lancer could remember it at all, he should be happy that he isn't saddled with Kotomine Kirei mk.ii. ]

...Wait. Are you telling me that you have no magical training at all?

[psychometer]

NOnononono! [Her hands move back and forth like windshield wipers as if trying to appease the sense of looming dread.]

I have training! Relatively speaking! According to the person who taught me, I have a surprisingly good amount of prana so keeping you anchored here won't tire me out constantly, but I... look, there's a reason why I wear these gloves.

But I don't practice any particular type of magecraft. If anything, my skills are connected to my Mystic Eyes.

[lansaigh]

[ Rank E luck looms over Lancer's head, always... the tragedy of Cu Chulainn, let's hope it doesn't become a three-parter.

He heaves a little breath, which might have been a sigh if he weren't so great at rolling with the punches. ]

Looks like this isn't gonna be easy, but better to work with what we've got than stressing over what we don't. Besides, you have me. [ Best Servant Ever!!!!!!!!! fuck the rest of them ] What do your Eyes do, exactly?

[psychometer]

It's... Mystic Eyes of Reflection. It's the best way to describe them since my sight was artificially adjusted years ago.

[There's a reluctance in her voice, but it's not like she's talking to a normal person. She takes the cup of juice staring into it.]

When I physically touch someone or something, the prana flows out and what I see are reflections of the past. Memories. Instantaneous knowledge of structure, of sight, sound, smells, and touch.

[lansaigh]

Not very combat-oriented, then.

[ It's a practical assessment, one that he states simply and without judgment: again, it is what it is, and though he detects that moment of hesitation, he doesn't press it.

And, in a way, it's never been the case that the people he's served strictly knew how to fight, so it's nothing he can't work with. As per the course for Lancer, he keeps things light. ]

But for information gathering, it's top-notch. I'll leave that to you.

[psychometer]

Well... theoretically, if I picked up an object or weapon that was used constantly, I'd at least learn the physical actions needed to wield it...

[She lets out a small cough, before taking a sip of juice.]

But, that's neither here nor there. What's important is you know what I'm able to do and I know that you're a Lancer-class hero of great skill. We'll just have to see how this works out.

[lansaigh]

[ He laughs at her latter assertion, freely and easily, as if she's just made a joke. ]

I like the way you think! Never mind the trivial— it's the "how"s that matter, in the end.

[ Straightening up, Lancer moves back to his seat and settles in it again, working on finishing his salad with a vague sense of satisfaction. ]

Looks like my Master is an easy-going one. Good.

[psychometer]

[Her face brightens up.]

Well, I'm not a hard ass at any rate! So you're fortunate in that aspect.

[Lien's food is getting cold so she focuses on eating for a few minutes before a question pops up in her mind.]

Lancer? Since the Holy Grail is supposed to fulfill the wish of the victor, is there one you have in mind? You don't have to be specific. I just wondered all of a sudden.

[lansaigh]

[ In those few minutes, he's cleared his plate of eggs and salad and is munching on his last piece of toast; a Heroic Servant, being staggeringly domestic in this setting. ]

Hm? Can't say that I do— I'm not interested in making wishes.

[ He says so without hesitation, focused on finishing his breakfast more than the question at hand. ]

Wishing is the magus's job, as far as I'm concerned.

[psychometer]

[The thought of how easygoing and casual this amazing Heroic Spirit was passes through her mind as she observes him. And yet he's calling her Master and seemingly deferring to Lien for now. It's the fact that he answered her question so easily that seems to cause her to wrinkle her brow.]

... Is that so?

[Wishes, wishes, wishes. What did she wish for? Wealth? She didn't have any use for excess money nor was there any desire. Recognition? For what? To discover an unanswered secret? Probably not, for secrets came more easily to her than she wanted. In fact she'd usually push those secrets away for it was needless occupation.

What did Lien Kha wish for? The question dies down to a small nibbling in the back of her mind as she distracts herself by taking a slice of toast and cutting it into rows, columns, and finally smaller squares.]

To me, a wish is something that I'd have to desire passionately, but have no power to achieve on my own... Would you say so too?

[lansaigh]

[ It's supposedly an honor, to be recognized even in death as a Heroic Spirit worthy enough to be given a chance to battle other Heroes, to have the opportunities to beget glories that they never attained in life, or remedy the actions of their past. Lancer supposes that the former comes close to something he's interested in, but the rest of it doesn't belong within his purview: he doesn't regret what he had, and he doesn't have any particular desire to change the course of his already-lived life.

Lien, though. His new, very young Master; her silence and her contemplation is something he's aware of. ]

It's something you'd at least be willing to kill for. [ If she had any illusions about what this is going to entail...well. He says this as simply as if he's commenting on the weather, which is comforting. ] But that sounds about right. Anything ring a bell?

[psychometer]

[She begins tossing the toast squares into her mouth as if they were bits of popcorn.

What a weirdo.]

Hm, well, I'd kill for a really good American style steak, but oddly enough, there's safer and less incriminating alternatives for that. Hm.

[lansaigh]

[ Listen, it's residual trauma from having to put up with a dead-eyed priest.

He laughs, though, because he actually thinks that that's Vaguely Funny. ]

What, no man of your dreams you'd wish for? You're around that age, aren't you?

[ bite your tongue lancer bite it ]