sweethymns | ғaтe/alт.dιѕтorтιon

Heroic Spirits rarely meet pretty ends.

[ He states, rather simply, in lieu of saying what exactly happened; he doesn't intend to win sympathy, because he doesn't think he particularly warrants any.

Setting the pot to simmer, he puts the lid on and turns the heat down, contenting himself with washing his hands. ]

I would prefer that she didn't trouble herself for my sake— her compassion is better spent on others.

Well... [She can deduce for herself about what Ai must have seen in her dream.]

To be fair, seeing someone die so clearly would ruin anyone's day. Still, I'm sure even she was aware of that. Something else could be grinding her gears.

[Lien props herself up so she's sitting on the edge of the counter, dangling her legs. When he mentions Ai's compassion, Lien exhales softly.]

... It would be easier to treat Servants as our tools wouldn't it?? Guess we're both incapable of doing that though... [It sounds as if she's saying this to herself even if he can hear it. She tilts her head and shakes it, clucking her tongue.]

Wow. Way too much twin-ing right there.

[ "Both". He can hazard a guess as to what she means by that, and how things between Cu and Lien might be. ]

Have you seen any of the Light of Ulster's past?

[ Changing gears to shift the topic— a little bit of subtle fanboying might be happening, not that it's not painfully obvious thanks to the copious use of those illustrious titles. ]

Huh? Oh yeah, totally.

He strangled a dog.

[ He looks bemused, and then slightly taken aback... ]

[ ...before he breathes a laugh, one that lingers for a while as he opens the lid of his pot and stirs the contents. ]

Are you always so forthright?

[ A light tease, the first real smile he's shown since she's gotten here. ]

[Aw, how nice she was able to lighten the mood; and she thinks this sincerely too because the last thing Ai needs is lingering broodiness. The worst kind of brooding.]

Forthright, audacious, insufferable; all three work! That or I'm allergic to constant seriousness.

Edited 2014-12-29 08:22 (UTC)

That would be troublesome; I'll refrain from ill humor, then. I couldn't handle two sick individuals in one sitting.

[ The "Shining Face" returns a bit to form, and he takes the spoon he was stirring with and transfers a bit of the contents of the pot to a small plate to hold it out for Lien. ]

—Though I'll ask this of you. How does it taste? There's no poison.

Don't worry, I'll know when I keel over.

[See Cu, this is what your Master meant when this guy was too much... She takes the serving he offers to her to taste test.]

... Wow! That's pretty good!

[irish heroic spirits who can cook, what a life]

Edited 2014-12-29 08:26 (UTC)

[ Her assessment garners another smile as he takes the plate from her to wash it. ]

If hunting were still common practice, I could catch our own game...

[ Another soft chuckle. ]

...Though I doubt that would go over well.

Too bad we don't live in an area that still allows that then! I think it'd be fun and it's not like hunting is completely dead.

[Anyways, she's prepared the tea and ladling two servings into two different bowls.

And then, she goes to her backpack to retrieve a bottle full of an eerie red sauce. Lien then proceeds to squeeze what could only be described as an unsafe amount into one of the bowls, turning the white porridge into a bright red.]

Alright! This should do.

[ Well, that's... ok, he's not sure if he should ask, maybe it's a Vietnamese thing...? The modern age is full of wonders...

She might be able to tell that he's looking dubiously at the red sauce, before he pulls himself back together to put a bit of stew onto a plate. ]

I'd be indebted to you if you could bring this to her. I'll wait here.

[The red porridge is placed on a tray along with some tea... looks like it's Ai Thao's serving.........]

No need to feel indebted! I'm family after all.

[And she looks at the red porridge and the white porridge.]

Oh, and don't worry. I think she'll be able to eat a second normal helping if I tell her you helped.

...Red sauce and all.

[ Why so much red... he looks dubious, again, but he sets the stove to simmer and starts to wash up, rinsing utensils under water. ]

Fun fact, your Master has a gentle sensitive soul, but her tongue is iron.

Anyways, I'll leave this place to you!

[Anyways, she brings the tray to Ai Thao's room.]

Knock, knock. [She doesn't do that of course, but she puts the tray on the table, and then reaches over, gently shaking Ai awake.]

[Ai Thao hasn't been having the best day. Obviously. But the extra sleep has been helping and... Well, she hears Lien and the noises in the kitchen. She doesn't catch the conversation that occurred of course. The domestic sounds are comforting her, making the sickness settle and bearable.

When Lien wakes her up, she sits up, rubbing her eye. Looking at the tray, she pauses at the sight of the porridge.]

... That's all??

[Diarmuid can probably hear Lien laugh and replying something along the lines of, "Want some soup with your sauce?"]

[ He relaxes when Lien leaves to go give Ai her food, deflating just slightly to settle against the counter and pull a hand through his hair. Heaving a light breath, he closes his eyes and listens to the voices in the other room, eases the tension in his shoulders a bit more when he hears laughter, and then goes to settle on one of the chairs in the living room.

It's not his intention to brood— again, a knight should never trouble their Master because of personal trouble— but he looks a little younger than he does when his stoicism wins over, head resting back against cushions to give himself a little comfort. ]

[The conversation grows hushed as the sounds of utensils and porridge consumption take over. It was normal, warm, with Lien obviously causing bumps in the conversation by just being... her.

There's an air of somberness half an hour later... Lien's listening to Ai's troubles, about the golden Servant in the church and how she truly cares for Diarmuid's well being... And then the dream. From that point on, the conversation is obscured somehow and the quiet takes over in the bedroom instead; there's something more natural than sinister, however.

Later, Lien (after telling her sister to sleep a little longer) exits the room with the tray with empty dishes and cups, bringing it over to the sink. As the water runs, she readjusts one of her gloves with a thoughtful look on her face.]

Edited 2014-12-29 09:09 (UTC)

[ When Lien comes back in, Diarmuid sits back up: a hunting dog whose ears prick up when someone gets close. He hears the sound of running water and moves back towards the kitchen, standing a little behind his guest to announce his presence. ]

...Do you need help?

[ Polite as always. ]

Oh! Hey, there.

[She looks back and forth between the sink and her gloves; with a sigh, she nods.]

If it's not too much trouble... Taking these on and off is annoying. Mildly, but annoying nonetheless.

I couldn't let my Master's guest do so much of the housework. Make yourself at home.

[ A gesture towards one of the chairs, before he rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and turns the water on; surprisingly domestic for a knight. ]

[Lien takes a seat, lifting up her legs so she's sitting cross legged on it instead. As Diarmuid takes care of the dishes, she's thinking...]

... Say. You don't happen to have a wish to make, do you?

[ There's a moment of silence before he breaks it of his own volition, even if the answer to that question is meant to be something private. ]

It's been granted. The powers of the Grail itself has fulfilled my wish— to serve under a Master, to fulfill my Master's purpose.

["... Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?"

Ai said nothing, but she slowly revealed her hand to her sister. Lien takes off her glove and gently curls her fingers around Ai's. There is no noticeable change in prana for this was an allowance Ai gave her sister when words could not suffice.

It doesn't take long. She doesn't need to know names or hear the words. Seeing was enough. She lets go of Ai's hand, giving no words of comfort or disdain. What was important was not the past, but the broken dream that occurred afterward...

Lien sighs. There's no way she could broach the topic delicately, not with the way she is.]

Nothing more, or nothing less, is that it? You're certainly something.

[ Somehow, her words strike something in him, an exposed nerve, an unclosed wound. His reply is a bit sharper than he'd like. ]

Is it so difficult to believe?

[ "why don't you understand"—

—he wills it down, a deep frown cutting into his features. ]

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