“And if we win – we could get help to open up a shop here in town!” Sophie leaned in close towards Howl, eyes aglow with both excitement and the light from the Triplicata she held in her lap.

This was the closest she would ever get to asking permission from him for anything. This was an opportunity she desperately wanted, and if she had to do it on her own, she would. But at the same time, wouldn’t it be so much better to know she had Howl on her side? “I know we agreed to stay out of the – the war or whatever’s going on for the most part, but wouldn’t it be nice? Winning? I can’t stop thinking about our flower shop back home.”

She was so pretty, his Sophie, when she had a goal in mind. Well, she was pretty without one too, but there was something truly special about the way that her eyes lit up as she described something or other. And there was this spectacular quality of hers whenever she was truly, animatedly involved in an idea.

"A shop would be nice," he agreed. He didn't want anything to do with a war. He still didn't. But one war was bad enough. Howl's courage only lasted quite so long. Provided that Sophie wasn't in any immediate danger for doing so, he was staying out of it.

But rewards like this had their obvious benefits. A shop...a little taste of home, something consistent for them to do, someplace that was theirs...

Yes, that was immensely appealing.

"What sort of shop would it be?" he asked, leaning forward and mimicking her pose in a way that suggested that he'd agreed in all but in the form of a spoken admission. "Another flower shop? Certainly not a hat shop. Never a hat shop. A book store? Something quaint. We could serve tea..." He wrinkled his nose at the thought of serving anything to anyone. "Perhaps not the tea. But the books, yes! I am fond of them..."

Never before had the red insignia she’d been granted upon arrival started burning so. She had been told that it was somehow connected to her status in this new world as a Master, but as of yet, there hadn’t been any matching companion (none of this Servant nonsense) to back it up.

The pain shot up her arm like some sort of poison racing for her heart. She was too stubborn to let something so simple as searing pain to force her to stop the errands she had set for herself, however. It wouldn’t be until a previously unseen man appeared in the middle of her path that Sophie stopped and let out a strangled gasp.

No words could defeat the way her breath was entirely knocked out of her chest, nor was there time for her to simply walk up and try to talk to him like a normal person. The artistically beautiful black hair, the mauve satin suit, there was only one person across all the worlds who put those disgustingly handsome things together in the same fashion as her Howl.

Sophie dropped the cloth bags holding her purchases from the market straight on the ground, completely ignored the squash and cheese that rolled onto the walkway, picked up her skirts, and bolted towards him like her life depended on it.

Once close enough, she launched herself towards him, towards the almondy, flowery scent of his perfume, and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. “You came,” she said, certainly not tearfully, as she buried her face in the collar of his shirt. “I called for you, and you actually came.”

One month, three days, six hours and fifty-seven minutes.

That was the amount of time Sophie had been missing and, likewise, the amount of time Howl had spent losing his damn mind.

It was that old proverb come true. 'You don't quite know how good you have it until it's gone.'

In this case the good was Sophie and with her gone, everything had quickly unraveled. The Castle quickly became a mess, Calcifer was short-tempered, Michael was anxious and Howl became a single-minded force of nature, hell-bent on finding his lost love and rain terror down on whomever was stupid enough to take her from him.

Locating spells didn't work. Scrying didn't work. No one had seen her go and no one had seen her sense. Had it gone on longer, Ingary might've been in serious danger thanks to one, angry wizard with too much power and nothing to lose.

And then he heard her voice.

Softly, at first, then louder. "Sophie?"

He followed it. Of course he did. It was Sophie. As he followed it he felt it, felt the transition between worlds, felt new information clicking into place, new understanding, new tasks and new rules.

He ignored the latter two entirely.

From a forest in Ingary to a street. If he hadn't felt the very fabric of the world to be different, he might've suspected that he was in Wales once again. But no matter. Sophie.

Where was Sophie?

Sophie. Sophie. Sophie.

He felt her presence before he saw her and turned in time to see her - his love, his light, his true guiding star - sprinting towards him. Howl caught her about the waist and pulled her in, wrapping her tight. She smelled like safety and warmth.

It didn't matter where this was. GRAIL or no.

Howl was home.

"Of course I did," he croaked, when he finally regained his voice long enough to speak. Silly thing, it'd gotten clogged up with emotion. "You really ought to have called sooner...or louder. I only heard you now."

He set Sophie down, still keeping close. A hand rose to brush down her hair. "My Sophie."

Hello all!

The name’s Fox and I’m new to the Fate universe so bear with me as I get my bearings! I’m still getting myself together with these new blogs and organized, but feel free to contact me for plotting via tumblr IM if you so wish! I’d love to meet all of you and hopefully make some new friends!

If by chance you’d like to get to know me better, feel free to follow me at my twitter, or DM me for my Discord info!

Hope to write with you all soon, mwah~!

<3 Fox

It’s a dying habit, the surreptitious side-glances into one of the mirrors Howl has set up in various, dusty corners here and there all around the house. It hadn’t been a habit at all until she’d broken the curse, but every so often, there’s a feeling of agedness that enters her body and grasps her heart itself like a curse of its own and she can’t help but catch a glance.

It’s one of those feelings that washes over Sophie now and makes her hesitate by the window, just as she’s about to leave the castle for Market Chipping. The dusty blue dress she’s wearing is similar in cut and design to the grey one she’d worn upon first entering the castle, the dove-grey shawl settled around her shoulders firmly cementing the silhouette. Only the touch of decidedly not-wrinkled fingers against also not-wrinkled cheeks reminds her that she’s her own age again, and no one – not even the Witch of the Waste – can take that away from her without her consent.

A rustle from behind, and she turns to see Howl with some unexpected expression on his face. Sophie lowers her hand in shame and uses it to clutch the edges of her shawl together, her own slack face swiftly contorting defensively. “I’m going to Market Chipping,” she announces, hoping to bluster her way through whatever it is Howl might accuse her of following a moment of heightened perception. “For potatoes, and whatever else strikes my fancy. Is there anything you want?”

As is his wont, Howl ignores the question entirely, choosing instead to focus on his interests and whatever's going on in his head. His expression is inscrutable, though the word to best describe it would be 'intense'. To be fair, he isn't staring. Not at Sophie herself, anyway. As far as he's aware, a protracted gaze such as this can only be considered ‘staring’ - and therefore rude - if it's directed at a person herself and not at her dress.

Finally whatever stroke of concentration he's found himself in breaks and he blinks once, looking up at Sophie as though seeing her for the first time. In his world, dresses can indeed be held up by themselves so it isn't entirely an unreasonable thought process.

"What are you wearing?" he asks, finally, blunt as ever. Another blink and his ears catch up to the rest of his brain. "Butter, if they have it. The good kind, of course. Eggs as well. Bacon. And silk. You may want to bring a basket."

Of course he doesn't offer to accompany her and carry the extra load himself, nor does it strike him necessary for him to do his own shopping. It's a matter of efficiency, really. Sophie's going out and she offered, so she may as well get it done at once.

He isn't so much inconsiderate as he is thoughtless. But then, he's still Howl, despite the flaunt and flair and fame.