The Holy Grail War Meme

[ribs_grow_back]

The HOLY GRAIL WAR Meme

 

Seven Masters, magi of the present day. Seven Servants, heroes of days past.One Holy Grail, granting whomever claims it a wish. Only one team of Master and Servant may claim it.
Who will it be?
For those unfamiliar with Fate/Stay Night or Fate/Zero, you can find a better explanation of the Holy Grail War here. (Note: The Holy Grail War in Fate/EXTRA functions in a dramatically different way, and one not followed for purposes of this meme.)

Instructions
1. Comment with your character. In the subject line, put that character's name, canon, and which role (Master, Servant, or either) you would like them to fulfill. Though not mandatory, it would be preferred that you give a brief summary of your character as they will (most likely) be AU'd into the setting. (NOTE: If your character can fill the role of Servant, I suggest you state which class(es) -- Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, or Berserker -- they fall into.)
2. Reply to others' comments. Pick your character's role (and the other character's if they list "Either" as their preference), then use the RNG to pick a scenario that fits the two characters' roles.
3. Enjoy! Though there might be triggers, depending on how the prompts are interpreted.


TWO MASTERS

1. Battle. Who says that Servants get to have all the fun? After all, most Masters try to kill each other, too. Whatever the circumstances, the two of you are locked in a fight. Neither of you are willing to use your Command Spells just yet, so no Servants here. Just two magi duking it out.

2. Alliance. There's a bigger threat out there. Either one Servant is exceptionally powerful, or the situation has changed and the participants need to take action against it. One way or another, you're teamed up with one of your rivals for the Holy Grail. How long will this last before you try to stab each other in the back? Or, will something more develop?

3. Protection. Uh-oh! One of you has lost your Servant! Unfortunately, there's no way you'd get to the church safely on your own, so the other one will help you get there! Or maybe you don't trust the priest presiding over the Holy Grail War and are giving shelter to them yourself? Given their track record, no one would blame you.

4. Death. One or both of you lay dying. It might have been by the other's hand, or by someone else's entirely. How will you spend your last moments in the presence of one of your rivals?

5. You, Too? Surprise! You may have been friends before, but you've just discovered that you're both Masters! How will you handle this revelation?

6. Wild Card. Roll again, pick one of the previous options, or make one up!


MASTER AND SERVANT

1. Are You My Master? The summoning is complete. Whether intentional or not, catalyst or not, a magus has summoned a Servant. What kind of meeting was it? Was everything totally under control, or did a hitch occur? Or maybe it happened in the middle of a life-or-death situation!

2. Identity. Either the Servant has flat out told the Master their identity, or they unleashed their Noble Phantasm. Either way, the cat is out of the bag. How will the Master react, now that they know their Servant's name and legend? Will anything change between the two?

3. Battle Aftermath. A battle has just ended. Who participated? Are either of you hurt? Did the Master have to use a Command Spell? Any number of things could have happened here.

4. Discord. Uh-oh. It looks like the Master and the Servant don't get along. Here come the arguments! Don't do something stupid, like waste a Command Spell over a triviality...

5. Love. And then, there's the opposite. Sometimes Masters and Servants fall in love with each other. How will this affect things?

6. Wild Card. Roll again, pick one of the previous options, or make one up!


TWO SERVANTS

1. Battle. This is what usually happens when two Servants meet -- they duke it out. This probably says enough as it is.

2. Alliance. There's a bigger threat out there. Either one Servant is exceptionally powerful, or the situation has changed and the participants need to take action aginst it. One way or another, you're teamed up with one of your rivals for the Holy Grail. How long will this last before you try to stab each other in the back? Or, will something more develop?

3. The Grail Dialogues. Maybe you're not interested in fighting just yet. Maybe you just want to sit down and talk with the other Servant. Find out what they want, what makes them tick. Get some wine while you're at it -- nothing like good wine to go with good talk!

4. Death. One or both of you lay dying...again. It might have been by the other's hand, or by someone else's entirely. How will you spend your last moments in this War in the presence of one of your rivals?

5. Identity. Congratulations, you've just learned each other's identities! Will this change the situation, or will you press onward?

6. Wild Card. Roll again, pick one of the previous options, or make one up!

Comments

master/servant 3&5

[steadyset]

Suga doesn’t even hesitate. The moment the battle’s over he’s running forward, skidding on his knees to come up beside his Servant, heedless of any injury the movement might cause. Nothing he could do to himself would be as bad as what his summon’s incurred on his behalf.

It feels like a storm is brewing inside his head. He never expected a battle to be like this—riotous and blurred, the smell of ozone and blood catching in his throat. Seeing Shielder’s fast actions as he fought on his behalf had inspired a sense of awe in him but also the sense that he might be out of his league, despite the fact that he’s trained for years for this war.

He couldn’t do much on the battlefield to help his Servant, but now that the fight is over and the smoke is clearing, he can help repair the damage that this hero has taken on his behalf. He can, at least, do this one thing.

“Shielder,” he says, his voice loud and strong to catch the other man’s attention. His hands tremble where they press against his shoulder, though, caught up in a whirlwind of anxiety and adrenaline. “Where are you hurt? Can you stand?”

[steadier]

Shielder's gritting his teeth hard and, even though the fight's over, he's ducked behind the implement he gets his class's name from. The bottom of the shield is dug into the ground, evidence of a last stand that's still ringing through his ears to the point that he doesn't even realize his Master's come over until he sees him in his peripheral vision. His first instinct is to draw his arm from the straps behind his shield and force Suga behind it but trying to do so gives away just how much damage his arm sustained. Shielder groans and bites down on his lip, freeing his arm with painstaking slowness.

This is not the time for pride, as much as he wants to preserve it. Especially now with his Master right there.

He slumps a little, the high of the fight, the rush of the mana, all of it starting to wear off, leaving only layers and layers of pain. Some of it, like the dull ache in his legs, is familiar and will ease with time. Some of it, though, like the screaming grind of broken bones in his forearm... that needs attention.

"I can stand. It's just going to take a minute." Shielder braces his good hand on the shield to leverage himself up, looking Suga over as he does so. "Are you all right?"

[steadyset]

It’s not safe here; Shielder’s instinctive move to push Suga behind his shield is proof enough of that. Caster’s been called off by his Master for now, but they’re still vulnerable and in the open. If Shielder can’t stand, though, that’s a moot point. Suga takes a deep breath, forcing his fear and anxiety back, forcing his mind to clear. Years of training has taught him the importance of priorities, of taking stock, of making a plan and then executing it.

"Don't push yourself!" he cries when Shielder pulls his arm free, groaning. He huddles closer to him, hands still pressing lightly on his armored shoulder as his mind races. His Servant is hurt, he thinks. That’s the priority.

“I’m fine,” he continues, “don’t worry about me right now.” The way Shielder's broad shoulders have begun to droop is catching his attention. “Your arm,” Suga says. His voice is trembling but still gently commanding; his hands skim down his bicep towards it but hover a few centimeters from the surface, not touching. “I’m going to heal it. Please stay still.”

He doesn’t need to add the please, and some Masters wouldn’t even give a warning at all, but as they’ve continued to work together it’s become nearly impossible for Suga to see Shielder as a tool. Shielder’s his partner, maybe even his friend—and seeing him like this jangles his nerves even though he knows that’s what’s supposed to happen. The Servant fights and the Master provides support: tactics on the field and healing off of it.

Suga murmurs a chant under his breath and green light lances from his hands to spread across Shielder’s arm. He winces in sympathy when he feels the break beneath the skin before he glances up at Shielder’s face.

“I can stabilize this for now, until we can get somewhere safe,” he says. “But it’s going to hurt. ...I’m sorry.”

The apology is for more than the break—it’s for his failure to prep Shielder for the fight that came out of nowhere, for his inability to help until after the fact. But he doesn’t voice any of that, because there's no room for faltering when his Servant needs him. His eyes close as he gathers up his mana for his next spell.

[steadier]

It's almost unsettling to Shielder, to be looked after like this. Not that he had some expectation of being sent out as a literal meat shield for some Master who didn't know the responsibilities that came with summoning a Servant, but the way Suga came running up to him and now the way he's making sure to touch him and talk to him... it's reassuring but at the same time feels like a reversal of the natural order of things. Isn't Shielder supposed to be the one taking action?

And he will, in a moment. He's just so heavy right now.

Then he slowly opens his eyes and sees Suga's hands traveling over his arm, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement perhaps as he narrates his actions. Shielder nods a little just as the cool green light of Suga's magic begins to glow. He shudders involuntarily but presses his lips into a thin line, determined to follow the order, to hold still and let his Master do his work. It's healing. It'll help. Even if it hurts like hell now. He can feel the magecraft working, feels his bones binding loosely back into place... and this is just to stabilize it.

Instead he distracts himself, focusing on his grip on his shield with his free hand, on figuring out just where else hurts in a way that's more than fatigue, on gathering his strength for the retreat that will begin shortly, on his Master's profile. The last gets the most attention. Healing is a mana drain, it will be exhausting for him, and he dismissed Shielder's concerns a little too quickly for the Servant's liking. He doesn't see any immediate evidence of injury or harm but with magecraft it's not always as easy to spot as a lance wound or broken arm. He'll be watching his Master carefully for a while, now.

Shielder knows he's done his job in this fight, both in seeing to it that the Caster is gone (he'd prefer defeated but the other Servant had the advantage on them this time) and in protecting his Master, but that instinct hasn't faded any despite the clear evidence in front of him that Suga can take care of himself. "Just do as much as needs to be done, please. Safety is the most important thing right now. We'll have attracted attention." Caster's long gone but he knows the longer they linger here the more likely it is that someone else will come upon them, now both weakened, vulnerable.

He can't defend them here and that's unacceptable.

[steadyset]

It’s true that Shielder wouldn’t be able to exist without Suga’s prana supply, and some people might take that as a sign that Shielder has to earn his keep, but Suga wouldn’t hear of something like that. Shielder’s already saved his life once today, and that’s not counting all the other times he’s had to rely on his Servant’s strength.

Besides, if Suga knew that Shielder was thinking of him as someone who had to be protected, he’d make him regret it.

Suga’s breath shallows as he feels out the damage inside Shielder’s arm, his mouth moving silently as threads a shimmering magical net across fragmented bone. Magecraft light washes his face in an eerie green and adds jade highlights to his hair.

He breathes in slow and deep when the net stabilizes and pulls tight like a cast. That isn’t a permanent fix by any means, but it will stop it from getting worse.

His eyelids twitch but don’t open; he’s not done yet.

Suga likes to use his magic with precision most of time, creating delicate-seeming spells that hide how much strength they hold, but there’s no time for that right now. The fastest way they’re going to get out of here is by Shielder’s strength across the rooftops of the city, and the fastest way to that goal is...rough. Sorry, he whispers in his head, even though he’s not sure Shielder will be able to hear or sense it.

He breathes out and simultaneously pours prana into Shielder's body, refreshing his Servant’s depleted supply from the fight. His body tenses, his chanting barely audible as he concentrates on feeding Shielder with a steady stream—enough but not too much.

When he’s given as much as he feels is safe (he has to keep some in reserve in case something happens, and also save his strength for later, when he can do a proper job) he withdraws his magic back, being careful not to jar the work he's done on Shielder's arm. The green glow fades and Suga cracks his eyes open, swallowing thickly.

“How’s that?” he murmurs breathlessly, a faint flush on his cheeks.

[steadier]

There's no having or not having to about keeping his Master safe. That's as much Shielder's duty as winning the Holy Grail War. The two are inextricably linked--he can't win alone and neither can Suga so there's an understood relationship of defense there. Or at least that's how Shielder sees it.

The tightening of the binding on his broken bones makes his breathing fast and shallow for a moment but only a moment. It's not easy to ignore the pain of the imperfect joining but he has to. It's the only way they're going to be able to get away from here and, as narrow as it might seem, that's his main focus at the moment.

That's why he's prepared for the prana stream Suga provides him, though he's not prepared for the way it overrides the adrenaline and makes him acutely aware of his other, lesser injuries. Such is the fate of a body restored, but it doesn't make it any easier. Shielder literally grits his teeth and keeps his eyes on his Master as he works. It is, he's come to discover, the easiest way to keep his focus. The green of the magecraft light gleams on his armor and makes the moment feel simultaneously alien and intensely private; Suga's magic illuminates them like an otherworldly candle. He curls the hand of his undamaged arm into a fist and breathes as deeply as he can, sensing the strength and capacity returning to his vessel.

When Suga's finished--it felt so much longer than it was--he tests his injured arm, finally averting his gaze and looking down at that rather than at his Master. There isn't much he can do with it but it feels like it will hold until they get back to Suga's residence. Unfortunately, because it's his dominant arm, he's still somewhat limited. That's not a good enough answer, however.

"It feels stronger. And so do I, enough that it's time to move, as long as you're able to." Shielder lifts his shield with his good hand and fastens it to his back easily enough. The primary logistical concern here, really, is what to do with his Master.

"We have to figure out how I'm going to carry you when I can't support you with this arm," he says, shrugging the shoulder of his injured arm. "I think the easiest, more secure way to do this is if you hold on to me, chest to chest. I can put my good arm around your waist, we'll be protected from behind by my shield, and someone would have to be looking very closely to know you were with me at all." It's not what he'd prefer. He and Suga work best as a team, and carrying him this way means depriving them both of Suga's ability to observe, but time is of the essence.

[steadyset]

Shielder's the kind of Servant to grit his teeth and bear anything, so Suga's not surprised when Shielder says he's fine. Still, he watches the injured arm move, alert to signs of trouble that his Servant may be too stoic to voice. It's not that he doesn't trust Shielder, but he wants to make sure that everything was done properly. Being in a hurry is no excuse for poor magework.

That he's able to move it at all, however gingerly, is a good sign that the cast will hold. Suga breathes out in a huff, relieved.

"That sounds good to me," he says to Shielder's plan.

After a bit of maneuvering his arms are locked around Shielder's neck. The rest of his body is pressed against his broad chest and half-cradled in his Servant's one good arm. There are still tactical advantages to this modified hold, he thinks. He's able to peek over Shielder's shoulder, giving them a 360-degree view.

This close to Shielder, Suga can smell the subtle, almost metallic tang of magecraft, mixed with the more ordinary scents of leather and sweat. Far from being strange, however, the smell reminds him of the familiars he grew up with. He finds it's comforting to be close to his Servant like this.

He murmurs softly, his mouth close to Shielder's ear, until Suga's arms light up with activated mage circuits. It's a simple charm to provide extra strength, but he'd like to see anyone shake him loose now. He shifts and squirms a little bit to test it anyway, before he sighs.

"I'm ready when you are, Shielder," he says quietly.

[steadier]

The position feels considerably stronger than Shielder expected it to. He knows it's largely due to Suga's magecraft but he's also feeling stronger himself and, honestly, Suga's light in his grasp. Not uncomfortably so, though. It gives him a measure of confidence, knowing he can support Suga this easily even with his dominant arm injured.

He's not exactly prepared for the soft sound of Suga's voice by his ear, though, or the way his Master adjusts himself against his chest. Of course there's nothing wrong with it--the return of the green light makes it familiar even--but Shielder's next breath is still a little slower and deeper than normal. In and out, a long moment of stillness before Suga speaks again.

He lifts his injured arm carefully. Shielder's already thinking ahead to the leaps and the landings are likely to jar it if he leaves it hanging free, so he wraps it around Suga's back, his hand behind his Master's head. It's not a tight grip, he can't manage that right now, but it gives his arm something to do other than hang and disrupt his aerodynamics. It also helps protect Suga's head which is, of course, valuable beyond any discomfort the hold causes Shielder, and makes them a closer, more compact unit moving in the air.

Shielder nods, crouches once, and they're off. Between the air whistling around them and his own exertions, he doesn't speak until they're back at Suga's residence, landing as gently as he can on a balcony at the back of the house. Sure, any entrance could be vulnerable, but he still sees no reason to risk entering through the front door.

His injured arm is starting to ache again but, he realizes, that's partly because he's tensed up every muscle in both his arms to stabilize his grip on his Master, secure but not too tight. His healthy arm is fine but his injured one is starting to shake a little with the strain. Even so, he gives Suga a gentle smile when he opens his arms to let him down.

"Home again, home again."

such a long tag omg

[steadyset]

Suga notices the subtle change in his Servant's demeanor after he casts his arm-strengthening spell, and there's a weighted pause before he says he's ready. It makes his breath hitch too, a soft not-sound as he waits for Shielder's response. Is something wrong? he thinks. He's about to undo the bindings on his arms before Shielder's injured arm lifts.

He tenses when he feels it rest against his back, between his shoulderblades and parallel to the concave arch of his spine. If he can move it like that, it must be all right.

It's not a warm embrace by any means. Suga is separated from his Servant by armor plate and forearm greaves; the whisper of sounds as Shielder moves is harsh, metallic. But Shielder's broad fingers cradling the back of his head sets off a queer feeling in his chest. It's only amplified by the steady pressure against his back and the solid mass at his front. It takes him a moment to find the word for it: comfort.

Gingerly, as if he's forgotten how, Suga relaxes into the hold, tucking his chin against Shielder's shoulder. His eyes are still bright, though, as he watches their surroundings.

His stomach drops when they take to the air, and his ears roar from the speed of their flight. He also holds his tongue, his attention focused on matching his shifts in weight to Shielder's movements so as to not cause his arm any further injury. His cheeks start to ache from the cold, cutting wind. He presses himself closer to Shielder's warm neck, trying to find shelter there.

During Suga's watch nothing follows them, not even animal-shaped familiars. He'd certainly know if there were any, though. Growing up an Einzbern had almost made it second nature to sense magical constructs.

Still, he can't shake that unusual sensation—comfort—and it only increases when they pass the family wards around the mansion and Shielder touches down on the balcony, murmuring nonsensical words. A cantrip? A nursery rhyme? Or maybe, he realizes belatedly, just an expression of thankfulness that they made it back without incident. It's such a human gesture that he's charmed by it, an answering smile crossing his lips.

"We're safe," he agrees. "Thank you."

He's pleased by Shielder's decision to take them to the back of the house. Outside of its obvious safety merits, his bedroom lies just beyond, and his exhaustion is finally starting to catch up with him. Healing his Servant comes before his own rest, though.

Still, his legs wobble when his feet first touch the floor. He lists to the side, reaching a hand out to steady himself against his Servant.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm okay."

[steadier]

The feeling of Suga settling into his grip, of his chin and cheek against his shoulder and neck, is something that's going to stay with Shielder for a very long time. He can already tell, already recognizes the memory taking up a place in the most secure parts of his heart. It's the feeling of a function served perfectly--he provided enough protection that Suga was able to be comfortable and even seek warmth from him--but also more than that. Though the chances of him ever saying as much to his Master are incredibly small, those brief moments of contact felt like a reward. Something special and personal earned for his efforts.

Shielder's earned a certain number of rewards in his life, but this one, this knowledge that he's given this mage something as simple as a slim fragment of comfort and for doing so was granted a fleeting moment of intimacy... it's set apart from the rest. He'd take it over any medal or honor.

He starts to bow when Suga expresses his gratitude for getting them home safely, but the moment stops as soon as he sees his Master's unsteadiness. Shielder grips the elbow of the arm Suga extends to him lightly, supporting him there, and bites his tongue at the accompanying pain that comes from thoughtlessly closing the hand on his injured arm. Still, it doesn't really matter. He's stabilized but his Master clearly isn't. He's exhausted, fragile, and a deep desire to see him well again rises up in Shielder. It is, he tells himself, surely a natural instinct on the part of a Servant, to want their Master to be strong.

He tilts his head, looking at Suga with his brows slightly raised. "I don't mean to contradict you, Master, but you don't seem okay from here. Please, just let me carry you to somewhere you can rest." He loops his good arm around Suga's back again, intending to resume the hold he had before. "Then you can be as okay as you want."

[steadyset]

Suga can feel the net he cast around Shielder's injured arm flare up when he moves it. It doesn't hurt him, but he knows that it must hurt his Servant, and he bites his lip on a flare of guilt-tinged sympathy.

His Servant is so loyal, and Suga appreciates every expression of it through Shielder's shelter and support. He's keenly aware that the Master-Servant relationship doesn't have to be this way, that the command seals on the inside of his left wrist aren't just for show. He was lucky, incredibly lucky, to summon a Servant as suited to him as Shielder is. It makes him want to try harder, too—to be someone worthy of such effort and sacrifice.

"Thank you," Suga murmurs, feeling like those simple words aren't adequate. He finds his balance easily enough with Shielder's help, swallowing down the rising exhaustion pressing against the inside of his skull. But before he can step forward he feels a now-familiar weight against his back.

The sense of gratitude and—something else, some softer feeling that he doesn't have a name for—dims when he realizes what Shielder's planning. He narrows his eyes up at Shielder, unimpressed.

"I'm fine," he insists. "You don't need to—" his protest turns into a small yelp when Shielder picks him up as if he's a sack of feathers.

"Shielder!" he snaps, his face turning hot. He punches his Servant's shoulder and winces for his trouble. Armor. Ow. "Shielder, you're worrying too much. I can walk into my own house! I'm fine!"

[steadier]

The softness of his Master's expression of gratitude makes Shielder smile a little. He recognizes the feeling, he thinks; he felt much the same way when Suga was tending to his arm. The sense of needing to earn the care before you can accept it, the sense of simply saying something not being enough. He'd linger on it, this similarity between them, but there are more important tasks at hand.

It's not that he intends to ignore his Master's directions exactly, it's just that, well, he's already carrying him again and it seems a bit pointless to put him down now when they're so close to Suga's bedroom. It'll be faster this way for both of them. He does pretend to stagger a little after Suga strikes him, but he also continues on his way, nudging the door open with his knee when he reaches it. If he notices the way Suga's face colors, he's certainly not going to comment on it.

"You can walk but you weren't walking, you were staggering, and so now you're not walking. You can walk all you want tomorrow, too. For the rest of tonight, though, you're done. Please feel free to keep beating me up over it."

The room is dark and as soon as Shielder's through the door he stops speaking. It's his Master's room, after all. There's a sense of privacy here, of singular ownership that Shielder can't help but feel rude intruding on. Still, he knows his own intentions so he doesn't feel rude for long. Not bothering with the lights, he carries Suga to his bed, pausing only to debate how best to put him down without setting himself up to be kicked.

[steadyset]

Suga tenses when Shielder staggers, his arms instantly winding around his Servant's neck. It takes him a moment to realize that his huge, gentle Servant is playing. At once it hits him how silly he must sound, how childish—and he starts to laugh, both at Shielder's antics and himself. He continues to giggle as Shielder tells him he can't walk anymore, clinging to Shielder's broad shoulders.

"If you say so," he says.

Suga's room is an exercise in opulence—velvet drapes over his bed, plush red carpet covering the floor, a desk of mahogany inlaid with gold. A globe stands in one corner, out of date enough to show the USSR, and the shelves are lined with books. Offsetting the weight of time are a few things which are plainly Suga's, like the sleek silver laptop resting on the ottoman and a cluster of wildflowers in a vase, drooping in the summer heat.

Even though Shielder falls quiet when he passes under the lintel, Suga's laughter and the stray breeze that follows them inside scatter the room's oppressive atmosphere. When they're close enough to the bed, Suga starts to squirm in earnest: "Come on, Shielder, this is far enough!" Eventually he wriggles his way free of Shielder's warm grip and bounces onto the bed.

For a moment he's sprawled across the sheets, staring up at Shielder with his weight leaned back onto his hands and his knees bent up, eyes bright and a lingering flush still spread across his cheeks. But it only lasts a moment. In the next one he's scrambled to his knees on the bed and pushed himself upright, his hands reaching for the catches of Shielder's armor.

"Come here," he says. His voice is still laced with amusement but it's quieter now, warmly fond. "You've done your duty for me, but I can't rest until I've looked at you properly."

[steadier]

His Master's laugh is such a rare and lovely sound. After all, they're at war. There's not a lot of room for laughter in war, and especially not the quietly delighted kind he's hearing now. Shielder wouldn't mind hearing it more often, no matter how unlikely that is in reality.

He doesn't work very hard to restrain his Master one Suga decides he wants to get free, but that means there's that much less occupying his attention when Suga lands on the bed. He watches, trying to spy any lingering unsteadiness, but what he sees instead is a momentarily delicate and beautiful side of his Master. Shielder's thought from the moment he was summoned that Suga is an uncommonly lovely person with his moonlight hair, fair skin, and graceful limbs. To meet his eyes now, though, with Suga's cheeks still pink and his posture so open, now that Shielder knows so well the power disguised by that slender frame...

Shielder has to look away. It's ignoble, this unexpected swell of attraction. It's not befitting a Servant, not befitting who he was when he lived. He doesn't see his Master sitting up, then, and his eyes are wide when he hears Suga's voice telling him to come closer. It takes him a long moment to realize that Suga intends to inspect his arm and nothing more, but he does turn to allow for better access to the clips and belts holding his pauldron to his breastplate.

"I can remove these, Master, you really don't have to." He doesn't move to stop him, though. Normally he'd he out of his armor by now but he's trying to conserve his mana till the morning. That means no vanishing gear for him.

[steadyset]

Suga wouldn't say he's led a hard life. It's impossible to say that when surrounded by such wealth. He's wanted for nothing. He's been trained by the best mages and tutors in the world. And yet, despite all that, his life has had little laughter in it. There hasn't been much cause for it, knowing that his entire life is devoted to the furthering of the family, knowing that if he dies it would be expected, and hardly mourned.

His Servant is a refreshing change from the cool austerity of the familiars and family members he's spent his life with. Suga almost always finds himself caught off-guard by his gentle, wry humor and sharp wit—surprised, and then grateful. In another life, he thinks, he would call Shielder his best friend.

He spends so much time watching his Servant. His attention is twofold: the ordinary observation Suga gives to anyone he's close to, and also the focus of a mage on his familiar. There's no way Suga wouldn't notice his Servant's sudden distraction, not with how close they are, or how quiet the room is.

His hands slow against the silk ties, peering at Shielder's face. He knows they're not in danger here. Even in wartime there are moments of quiet, and Shielder was relaxed just moments before. It must be something else, then; some quiet discomfort, perhaps something from Shielder's past. Perhaps Suga has triggered some private memory. Regardless of the cause, Suga wants to dispel the look of quiet trouble from his Servant's face. He wants to make him smile again, as he's made Suga himself smile.

"Shielder," he says. His voice is quiet, but he doesn't move until Shielder meets his earnest gaze. Once he has his full attention, he murmurs, "It would be my pleasure."

After all you've done for me, he thinks. And in the silence of his own head, an even quieter thought follows: After all you mean to me.

The ties are elaborately braided silk in orange and black, befitting of someone as highly ranked as Shielder was. He takes his time with them, undoing the knots with quiet dexterity. Suga has always been good with his hands. He spent a great deal of time when he was younger folding origami and imbuing it with magic, sending paper cranes flying into the wild from his tower window.

The silence grows close around them. Suga pays it no mind, his lips thoughtlessly parted. He pauses in the middle of his untying to run a hand over the ornate o-yoroi, feeling the lacquered smoothness under his fingers, the way it ripples like fish scales.

"I was very lucky to summon you," he says, smiling at Shielder's armor. "Only a powerful warrior would have armor like this."

[steadier]

It is not, in general, difficult for Shielder to separate his identity now, as a Servant in the Holy Grail War, from who he was in life: Sawamura Daichi, a high ranking noble samurai who fought at the front lines alongside his men. It was, in his mind, part of his duty as their leader. He protected them like his own family. They were, after all, as close as he came to ever having sons.

Sawamura was blessed in his life. Few were the men he knew who were able to keep a balance between a wife of great beauty and ferocity and a wakashū of deep devotion and passion. Yui provided him with a home, a retreat from the trials of the battlefield, and within his home he sought further refuge in Chikara. Chikara's family were fiercely loyal to Sawamura and taking their son for his wakashū seemed only fitting.

The boy was difficult at first but Sawamura was patient and it wasn't long before he grew into an eager, intelligent young man. His war was a quieter one than Sawamura's but no less determined. Sawamura was proud to ride out with him, proud to love him and be loved by him, and proud when Chikara sought his own wakashū. Yui left nothing wanting for Sawamura in the end, but it was thoughts of Chikara that kept him company as the long centuries after his death passed waiting for the chance to fight again.



Shielder looks up slowly, pulled from his private considerations by Suga's voice. It's not that they're both men that has him turning his gaze away. It's that this is the wrong order of things. Suga is Shielder's Master and Sawamura's nenja. To see him arrayed so receptively on the vast Western-style bed, even briefly, summoned feelings in Shielder that he would never have thought to act on.

Suga's continued attentions aren't helping, though. Shielder's eyes flick briefly to the silk cords of his kote, watching Suga's agile fingers working over them, before he looks at his Master's face. His expression is filled with a kind of gentle focus and intention that steals Shielder's breath. A man like this, removing his armor like some base manservant... and yet Suga looks content. The inner struggle between asserting the proper strata and allowing his Master to simply do as he pleases ends abruptly. Suga is content.

Shielder continues to watch as Suga strokes his armor, finally smiling a little. "I'm glad you think so. It is very fine armor, but in truth the most powerful warriors never need to put it on at all. I was never quite that good." The black silk of his hitatare is visible in the growing gap between the pieces of armor. He shakes his arm a little, testing to see if the kote will fall away, then winces. Right. Broken arm. Well done, Shielder.