ғaтe/alт.dιѕтorтιon

[formidable]

Private AU/PSL RP, set in the Fate/stay night universe. Multiple Servants of each class are being summoned or are rogue and appear from mysterious rifts along with shadow-like monsters, threatening to tear apart this unstable and distorted alternate reality. ➢ FSN AU Lien Kha. ➤ FSN AU Ai Thao Kha. ➢ Fate/ALT.distortion Playlist.

Comments

[psychometer]

And you killed each other. Hopefully, you didn't eat each other as well?

[lansaigh]

Some people probably did, but I didn't.

[ A light shrug as he picks a bone out of his rice. ]

We weren't all that well-behaved back then.

[psychometer]

Huh. Well, whatever worked back then??

[She's going to be trying the fish now. Man, when was the last time she ate someone else's cooking that wasn't in a restaurant?? She chews carefully and pauses.]

... It's good.

[lansaigh]

[ Lancer is obvious about how he feels about her assessment; he grins, leaning an elbow on the table and settling his head against one hand. ]

Right. Made even better by the fact that the Servant who made it for you is a good-looking guy.

[psychometer]

[While Lien usually wouldn't give a reaction to that sort of remark... She's turns lightly pink.]

Hey, don't get cocky now.

[lansaigh]

I don't hear you arguing against my point.

[ But he lays off, reaching for some soy sauce to pour over...

...Lien's fish, not even his own. ]

Come on, eat. Can't fight wars on empty stomachs.

[psychometer]

I'll think of something!

[FINE STUFFING HER MOUTH THEN.]

And like hell anyone's catching me on an empty stomach.

[lansaigh]

[ The breath he huffs is close to a chuckle, and he goes back to eating for a few silent moments which he eventually breaks with a question. ]

Yo, Lien.

[ Chopsticks in hand, he tilts his head. ]

One thing.

[ aka: "can I tell you something". ]

[psychometer]

[give her a sec, taking another swig of cider and then she swallows, blinking]

Eh? What is it?

[lansaigh]

Even after we win this thing, and I go back to my Throne—

[ he finishes off his can of beer, crushing it down. ]

—Find someone you can do this sort of thing with. Alright?

[psychometer]

[I don't make promises.

That's the first thing that immediately comes to mind as a reply. But she can't do it. She can't say it because if she did it meant she was clinging, barely hanging on, something that's been going on for years.

And if she said that, what he's been doing for her would be meaningless. Of course he'd leave. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts...

But she knows that he said that because he knows she can't go on like she was before. And that in itself was something she could treasure after he was gone. So she smiles, wistful as it is, and nods.]

... Yeah. I will.

[lansaigh]

[ The bane of getting attached is that Lancer knows that he's centuries, millennia too late to be the sort of person who Lien can reliably depend on. He's dead and gone, a tool summoned for a largely absurd war, and he's not bitter as much as he is disappointed— disappointed that he has a time limit, mostly.

Ruffling her hair is out of the question, with oil-slicked fingers; so instead, he reaches out and brushes her cheek with the back of his hand, tapping her cheekbone with the crooked joint of his middle finger. ]

I'm holding you to it, "Master".

[psychometer]

[That gesture makes her look happy, much like she was in the morning.]

You can count on me. I'll find a way.

[lansaigh]

Just do what you always do, you'll get a catch.

[ He doesn't seem to doubt what he's saying, as he pulls back and wipes his hands on a napkin. ]