⚜ king of briton.

@caliburnus / caliburnus.tumblr.com

. 𝔉𝔞𝔱𝔢/𝔗𝑦𝔭𝔢-𝔐𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝓡𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔄𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔯 .
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Sir .

@caliburnus cont x 
The embodiment of disciplined and regal upbringing shall ratify their significance in the eyes of another; words denude a serene, mannerly discourse that Narsus has only hearken behind the royal walls of embellished gold in days of past. However, surprise garners his attention when she offered him her meager amount of  £6, seen as gratification for the silver pieces he has dispense to slake her want for the fondling fowl. To a noble ( shahrdaran, to be exact  ) such as Narsus, of course, such paltry quantum of pelf amounts to naught but coins dispensable to local market streets, but such words may never honour the chance to make their depart from his tongue.
          “Should I opt to surrender and accept your … gift, where would you go once we both make our depart, with neither money or name? Surely you do not warrant the bird will bring you fortune?”  A tease – a compliment in Narsus’ opinion, to the humble nature braced with naive persona, the girl was no wolf in sheep’s skin; his instincts had weathered through the worse and indulged in the finest. On such occasions, lonesomeness is a dastardly thing – for a radiant city such as Gilan ( where men such as Shagad subsists as the upper-hand in monopolistic economy, women and children such as herself would fall beneath the unfortunate caste ) 
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          “As for losing the fowl — I will be honest, beasts that are born wild should be left alone, nevertheless purchase it from a merchant who claims to harvest them from the East plains; you should not have bought it. But I do suppose now that it is yours, it will acknowledge you as its owner if you will have it.”

                                                           ✞

      Tally it to regional ignorance for awry judgment. The wreath of a king’s cape is composed of peers both decorated and knowledgeable. Without them, she is but a yokel! She is no tactician either; governed only by a magus off yonder, it is palpable that she’d exhausted her blessings and took nature’s compass for granted. ❝Is that so? Please forgive my ineptitude. It would appear that even I am able to be tempted with rash impulses. The excitement is admittedly  contagious, and I did not think about the state of the birds. The children appeared so excited to see them that it overwhelmed my logical sense of mind.❞ Living creatures are gifted with their own heart and will. Depriving them of their purpose to be sold as merchandise does warrant judgement, doesn’t it? 

      Croons chimed from the creature whose trot paced the length of her arm before focusing sights at its freer. Endearing indeed... though she would restrain from affection to heed his advice. ❝Do you suppose it would be happier freed from a cage? I am currently between voyages, and I’ve no intention of keeping it restrained. I had actually hoped for a companion of sorts. I hear fowls are loyal when trained.❞ Repertoire as envoys aside, they were lightweight steeds with able minds. Verifying this is its following gesture, pouncing from one arm onto the next to clamber atop his shoulder, dome to prod at the man’s cheek.

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      ❝Ah, I neglected to introduce myself. ...My name is Arthur, and I come with humble greetings from the West. If you would be so kind as to allow me your time, could you tell me more about the East plains? I would like to err from exercising faulty acumen.❞

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Irisviel .

THE SPRING IN HER STEP  attenuates, anatomy seeming to retreat into itself as she slows to a stop. the name EMIYA is like salt to a wound – the purest form of bittersweet. perhaps that is the greatest cruelty; for her greatest happiness able to be recalled only alongside her greatest pain. 
(  wh– what did you do  ––?! why did you reject the grail  –– reject us… my illya  –– no why ?!  )
saber had known better back then, in that murder scene. the rickety turning of the wheelchair, the dead man – the conned man – and the dead woman he’d loved who had not loved him. the spear through lancer’s chest, his dying curse – the memory is like crystal to her. the way saber had chided the would-be hero who hated heroes, and how any fragile faith had shattered like chivalry were glass before the hammer of pragmatism. saber had known better back then; her faith was not blind like irisviel’s had been.
… i see.    
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she is not wholly solemn when she turns to face the king of knights and her statement, but something somber seems to weigh on both her smile and intonation.
(  –– because i will save the world )
 ‶ and what do you think about that, saber ? 

                                                              ✞

         ❝It pains me.❞ Brusque is the honesty absent of modesty. ❝He cares little for himself, and has completely surrendered his life to servitude. The nobility is too extravagant. Desiring nothing but my happiness, he is willing to sacrifice his life in place of my own.❞ She, the Servant, soul traded by her own cognition!

         One whose heart still beats is bound by obligation to savor that life, so why does he rush to waste it so haphazardly? Is he oblivious to his correlation with her happiness? Acting to inflict a desire for self-preservation into her, whose life is as good as forfeit... foolish, foolish,foolish. ❝It is not a sin to be self-serving. While I do not claim complete understanding of everyone’s wishes, I do believe that one should strive to act in their own best interest. It is a testament to their own independent will. If you act only in the name of others, how can you claim that your life was yours in the end? I intend to be the victor of this war. When I win, I will disappear from this world and his life. When that happens, I ----

Do all of you really want... to win that badly? You all want the Grail that badly? You’d crush the only wish I hold in my heart... Do none of you feel any shame at all?!

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        She still hasn’t learned. Hypocrisy squirms beneath skin and bone, but finds itself stifled beneath the mind’s layers of obstinacy. 

        ❝There is a remarkable difference between the two. I fail to understand how alike, yet different they are from one another. Yet... he is a kind individual deep down. Perhaps you would like him, Irisviel.❞ 

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“If I have done wrong for my Kynge to harbor doubt, I only beg Thee allowest me to repent. Thou needest ne’er ask me to bloody my hands. I am thy man and knight, always, and not any other’s.” Young, fearless soul ( and half a radiant fool ), his faith was steadier than bedrock. Gaze cast downward to hide the tempests in the blue pools of his eyes at that ruinous name. To think he’d almost grant lenience for such licentious conduct. What shame! “And I will not forgive him this life. How can I allow such an abject, cutthroat creature parade sully, of his oath and Thine?” 

                                                              ✞

       Were they not brothers once? Not by blood but by oath; knights of renown, legends sculpted from the same fellowship! God hath mercy on this soul for even conceiving treachery by thought when his own grievances had yet to pass. The flames of vengeance always were fond of those methane hands... those who burned, burned to blisters from their lacerating hellfire. ( Scorched by the wrath of the sun itself; she almost pitied Sir Lamorak and Sir Pellinore. ) ❝You possess a greater strength than I. The insignia of conviction is one you have branded into your very soul. I have already thought to forgive him for what he has done -- but I wonder. Am I weak for considering that alternative? Witness the state of Camelot as it is, my nephew. From what point did this all begin?❞

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    “Honestly, I wasn’t at first, Saber, but I guess you could say the Christmas spirit is          
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    “A proper Servant must think upon their Master’s safety.”
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    “          infectious.  B-By the way, has anything… weird happened at work lately?”

                                                            ✞

      ❝Does it not every day?❞

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     ‘Weird’ is a blanket contour for any Chaldean. Rounding a populace of heroes en masse will promise chaos wherever one goes. If he speaks of a particular incident, he will have to narrow it down to a single, notable abnormality.

      ❝Mm... I have been experiencing strange dreams as of late. My wakes are often late and tiresome despite never experiencing interruptions during my sleep cycles. I figured the culprit was the spirit of Christmas itself. There have been many excitable individuals lately waiting for their gifts. Could I be one of them?❞

                                           Did he get her something? Yes? No? Possibly?

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 .Master .

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“uh, are you having some trouble there, Saber? I can give you a hand if you want.”

                                                            ✞

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     !!!                  “Ma-- “ crash!

              And to think, all she’d wanted to do was surprise her Master with a splendidly decorated Christmas tree before he woke, shining star and all on top. Step ladders were not her friend.

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@caliburnus: “Are we not devils?" 
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“‘Devils’ — no, never! Thou art God’s chosen, the world’s hope, a dragon born again a man. Thy will is virtue. Listen not to the heretics who preyen upon Thee. Majesty is weary, perhaps? Please, rest whilst I will remove them like unwanted stone upon a path.”

                                                             ✞

     The sun glimmers despite death for he, ever-radiant, is never bested by the likes of corrupt morality. Heart hallowed from the dusk of bloodshed, his passage remains limber, weaning a tunnel of sanctuary for she, who intermittently loses guidance. King Arthur the baby killer; murderous sinner; hamlet thriller. God? God abhors her hubris.

    ❝Do you swear by that, Sir Gawain?❞ Ennui is the stone cast by the Devil’s hand. Mayhap he is right -- the playgrounds of fatality must have left her haggard. ❝Should you be brought to pledge that before one such as Sir Lancelot, would you be able to deliver?❞

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. Archer .

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“Well, it’s not often I’m graced by the presence of a King — or is it? It’s hard to tell these days.” Considering how many of those who were summoned were rulers in their own right, it was strange to imagine. Even the false title he obtained was just that. It held no power, joined as another part of his True Name. Not at all like hers, the King of Knights and the table she ruled, even after death. “The point stands, I’m not talked to often.”
The fairies that had been around him skittered off into hiding, much to his disappointment. Well, it’s not like he was considering continuing his private concert after he’d gained a less preferred audience. Less preferred, but not entirely unwelcomed.
He just wasn’t sure what to make of her. This was his idol as a child, after all. The King of Knights who’d every boy and girl had dreamed of coming close to during his time, himself included. But that was then, and this was now. That sort of thing didn’t suit him anyways. It just brought back some awful nostalgia.
“But, uh, thanks, I guess.” About his singing. As odd as it was to be walked on like that, he didn’t mind the compliment.  

                                                              ✞

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       ❝No. As it stands, I think it would be more appropriate to consider everyone an equal. There are many rulers within Chaldea, but we are no longer in possession of our countries nor our people. Perhaps we still cling to the familiarity and pride of having been one before, but we are all now mutual defenders of humanity.❞ Lie she shan’t -- ‘tis a task easier said than done. Disassociating from regality is an emotional operation.

      An independent notion, nonetheless. The immediate barons that come to mind would not care to spare any expenses for the idea. ❝Is that so? What a shame.❞ Chastity be blessed, for she sits as a mute among the table of trumpeting braggarts. ( Could that be what draws her to him? A feeling of relation? )

     ❝...Then. If I may ask, is it true that you possess a fourth sense? I have run into Servants that describe you as a man similar to the likes of Snow White... an individual that can communicate with fauna.❞ One could say he was a natural with nature, eh? Heh, if only her humor could reach that level of social maturity.

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Imperator .

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Perhaps they are. That black abyss of the sky is ever expanding with its myriad of stars. It is only natural that you gain a different understanding of them from my own.” He replies, seeking no hostility and offering none in return. Italy and the Britain had their quarrels, but it was not a quarrel between the two leaders of history. I would have thought you joking if that sort of information were brought to my attention. I was a practical man. I sought to lead my life well and leave a legacy so that men may know my name.

                                                            ✞

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            ❝Not a man of superstitions? That is surprising, as I hear the the Romans worshiped different gods... pax deorum, I believe? I mean no ill intent by that. The court of Camelot was mandated largely by an oracle who guided lives through sorcery when our faith was perceived to condemn the existence of the otherworldly.❞ Ironic, no? That which lit the flame of her soul was magic itself; heredity spliced with the blood of a beast. A bastard at conception that left as a legend in death. ❝Yet with all the direction I was given, I did not anticipate what would come at the end. I never once thought to lead my own life. It is seeable that I never once felt I had one at all.❞

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                                             . @aeronotch .

Even in this world, snow fell, matching that of the season. The usual green layered scenery was lined with white, even the oddly cheerful man resting on a snow dusted log. The King of Knights might not have been able to see just what he saw, but she would be able to hear the lightness in his tone as he sang.
He leaned back in his seat, hands pressed against either side. Snow fell from his hair at the act, and he seemed wrapped up in his song. Others might not be able to see them, but the May King was enjoying the company of the whimsical tones of the fae.

                                                             ✞

       It is a ticklish sensation that cups her ear, one so kindly and hospitable that she’d initially suspected a perpetrator in their wake. Who knew that the chivalrous thief himself had the voice of a forest swallow? Words he wouldn’t wrangle, but lyrics could be brought to lyre if he so desired. Fearing she’d fright him, she held the reigns of her curiosity back until his cadence found conclusion.

      Now... now would be fine, no? ❝You have musical talent. Seldom do you speak, but I find myself wanting to hear more from you.❞ Could that be perceived as insolence on her part? It’s likely she’s an object of disdain to the man, given how she carries her weight in chivalry everywhere she goes. ( A preacher of virtue; a quality rumored to fall from his favor. ) ❝...Or would you rather I keep my opinions to myself?❞

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♛ : “….” Was this truly her grand reveal? A boring ensemble, made of the most simplistic pieces to compliment another? At it’s best it could barely denote any features, attracting perhaps the same amount of attention per color to a wall. Dull in all aspects, suppose. Pout would form in mirroring fashion, as articles were swapped at once between the safer walls now taken for domain.
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“….” Yes, yes. At the very least, donning a new outfit provided her with a refresh of sort. But all the same brought pain through its simplicity. A temporary solution, to a problem that required addressing. “This will not do Arthur. Three palettes does not suite a King of your stature. Though perhaps flaunting your strength is not a must, making it known should grasp at your attention.” Not to the emperor’s extreme, but something. “Thus, you are taking me shopping. Right this instant.”

                                                            🦋

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      Hmph. Inflated expectations sought to draw at least one joyful illustration on the Emperor’s portrait. A tasteless one, she was! ❝I see you do not favor the color black, despite its deferral from the palette you mentioned. I found it rather dignified when I wore it.❞ Perhaps she should take this period of time and reflect on the next best method of satiating her. If gaudy is her preference, then leniency should silence this selfishness.

     ❝Fine. If you insist, I will take you shopping.❞ Participating in the spirit of the ‘umu’, the carefree negligence of this farce will allow her to thieve away her Master’s wallet, with sights in mind for the company card issued by Chaldea. ❝Given Doctor Roman’s infatuation with performing mistresses, surely he would not mind if we allowed ourselves some spending to benefit morale. Where to Arthur, o King?

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♛ : Woe is she to, excellent wonders of opportunity and resources provided yet they are tossed aside of no importance as if they shared the value of dirt below their feet. Amusing to the thought, lavish items of course never any worth to the old king somehow despite all experienced and position given. Was it truly a sin to indulge even slightly? Refine her own breathing briefly, impression settling more in with each chance to speak tone. “..Such an odd mention to pass your lips, truthfully. Never the day one could recall the mighty figure turning down any morsel regardless of.”
Suppose in her position, the ability to restrain and remain selective had just become available identity considered. All the same, another sigh uttered in irritation, intimidation far easier to perform– minus the clawing desire of outburst. Mute to point always? No wonder woman had always retained a pout within composure. More than a few ounces wished to denounce. “I see no point. This already could be considered a costume in itself no? Should you wish to loosen your own constrictions, that would be an ideal opportunity.” Assuming.. they’d both make it that long.
Impose question however. “Must your apparel be so limited however? I’ve raided your room and found only possibly at most.. three choices in garbs? It leaves little in terms of what shade I’ll don said day.” Yes, blue with the little white or blue with even less white.

                                                             🦋

      ❝Costumes would imply the origins are derived from fictional creations. Neither you nor I fit that description. This is the garb you donned during your time of rule, correct? There is a certain amount of respect to be paid for one’s official garments.❞ Soliciting any less from these threads, no matter how ornery the ornaments, would be beneath stately judgment. ( Though comprehension eludes her yet in regards to its efficacy in menial day-to-day chores; are the ends not too frayed for intricate tasks and vents too accessible? The public eye perceives in excess every day. )

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      ❝If different outfits are what you seek... there are a few ensembles I keep reserved. They hold fond memories for me, so I had Master reserve them in a closet separate from my own. Come.❞ Matching cleats pace past tile and marble ‘till their destination reveals itself to be inside their Master’s bedchambers, unlocked against advisory as per usual, tucked in a bin beneath muddled gear. ❝Given your taste, I am uncertain as to whether or not either of these will entice you. I advise you try them however.❞ Two pairs for the picking: a white blouse with ( surprise! ) a navy kilt, or a streamlined orchestra of ebony wool, folded with the crisp precision that a full-body suit demands.

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quietly makes the suggestion of parfait or sweet crepes to alleviate the pain of a burning tongue

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                                                            ✞

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           ❝Ah. You suggest that because dairy is reputable for counteracting heat, yes? It would be wise of me to comply.❞

      The advice is typically viable in situations where one consumes peppers, but anything with a milder temperament would alleviate this dreadful numbing. But of course, where would her manners be if she overlooked her Master’s kindness without even a word of thanks? ❝I am grateful, but will you not share a portion of this with me? These confections are best enjoyed with warm company.❞

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Yawns sleepily, but gives pretty Saber a rose for being the best servant ever. And prettiest. Don't forget pretty, but this is mostly an appreciation post. The mun is pretty swell too

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     (( @godxofxegypt:

                                                           ✞

                                                          ?!

             A rose? Today is neither the holiday of love nor is it the season of spring. It is winter, and while his actions may be amicable, they are severely baffling. ( Furthermore, she is rarely the subject of such gestures! The beauty of this flora would be wasted on her. )

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            ❝Surely you are mistaken, Master? I cannot even begin to imagine why I would be the recipient of such a gift please reconsider this.❞

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