capeandcowllogs | First Command

First Command

WHO: Kiritsugu Emiya and you.
WHERE: Just about any street.
WHEN: Post-hunt.
WARNINGS: Happiness and rainbows.
SUMMARY: Kiritsugu attempts to figure out what is going on, not resorting to extreme methods until he figures out who to employ them on.
FORMAT: Either's good.

Emiya Kiritsugu has quite deliberately neglected to use the comm. He entered the Holy Grail War quite ready to mentally cope with any bizarre occurrences that may inconvenience him. In a profession filled with combat against supernatural beings, transportation to another world, or at least the illusion of it, is not impossible to contemplate.

One fact does hint towards greater matters being at play, which is the disappearance of his Command Spells. Kiritsugu hasn't tried using them, even now unwilling to risk wasting one (not at all helped by the nature of his last confrontation with his Servant), but he fails to feel the same traces of prana in his hand he used to perceive if he concentrated. Would that mean he has been stripped of his status as a Master? A worrying thought, but if so, it is simply a matter of eliminating all the others before they can claim the Grail, taking some of the command spells along the way through any means necessary. Not infallible, but he's not being given a lot to work with.

Regardless of the true nature of this obstacle, the fact remains that Kiritsugu has already been here for half a day. It may not sound like much, but it is a half a day inserted right in the middle of what Emiya Kiritsugu considered the most important couple of weeks of his life. Everyone's lives. Having already gathered a fair amount of information - the basics anyone with access to the internet may obtain, Kiritsugu decides to walk around the city. If this is an illusion caused by a bounded field, he will feel his way to a particularly vulnerable point and neutralize it. Until then, he's treating this as a very real situation, not reacting overly paranoid, but certainly keeping an eye on anyone who happens to come close to him. Those with a knack for detecting the paranormal may feel tinges of magecraft surrounding him. Those who don't will still see a man who hasn't slept for days now, and certainly looks the part.

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If it weren't for the chaos caused by the recently departed Wild Hunt, Archer probably wouldn't have given the weary man making his way through the City a second glance.

But as it is, he's wary and on edge; he still too clearly remembers the sense of doom that came with the storms, and the chill. So as Archer cuts through a less busy side street on his way back to the MAC, a serious-looking man worn down from lack of sleep attracts a second glance out of curiosity and the most detached sort of sympathy--was he also targeted by the Hunt? Does he know more about what happened?

He attracts a third glance when Archer takes note of the feel of the supernatural around him. Another imPort, then, and not one he recognizes from the network, so--

It's at about this point that he realizes his steps are slowing, his feet suddenly dragging as he comes close to passing by the other man. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know why he's stopping, but somewhere around here it occurs to him that although he's been casually studying the stranger, he hasn't seen his face. Every time he looks, something like a record-scratch effect happens with his eyes and the next thing he knows he's looking elsewhere again.

Archer stops several feet away from passing Kiritsugu in the quiet City block. As it happens, he's dressed like a regular human being in this case, but the signature of magical energy he radiates to those in the know gives the lie to that, even if it isn't quite what it would be in the world he comes from. And he stops with his hands in the pockets of his ordinary red jacket, his gaze cast just beyond the other man's shoulder.

The thing is he used to be really good at denying truths he couldn't cope with and bending them into illusions he could live with. Once, if he'd run into a truth like that on the street while on his way home, he could probably have pretended it hadn't happened for a year or a lifetime and paid his tab for it afterwards. That was a coping mechanism, though, and he doesn't really have those in a functional sense anymore, so he'll be lucky if he can put off the realization now for a minute. Maybe thirty seconds. He's still stopped there on the street so he figures he should speak before those seconds are up, because already he knows he can't let this man walk away without a word. He'll say something, while he can still hold off recognition. He has a few more seconds, so...

"I'll save you some effort." Ten, nine, eight; his tone is flat and cool. "There isn't a way back home that anyone's found." Four, three, two, one--

Even to a man so based on concrete information like Kiritsugu, the feeling that there's something odd about the man approaching him comes to him before he can accurately explain why. Perhaps he's spent so much involved in the realm of death that not being under threat of it feels unusual. At least, this is what Kiritsugu himself would reason if he gave the philosophical side of this matter any thought, as every oddity's worst-case scenario ends with death in his mind.

His ability to detect magecraft will never stand up to that of a Servant's, but now that he's directly interacting with this person, he does feel a few traces of that essence that so often finds itself followed by bloodshed in front of him. Kiritsugu does not let this overly alarm him. He knows the identities of all Masters and Servants.

It isn't until the man speaks that he begins putting the pieces together. Back home. An alternate reality? Given the nature of the Grail, it's not impossible, but the war is far from over. More importantly, he's been recognized as being new to this place. Though he displays no shock, nor spares a glance to this new informant, Kiritsugu is innerly surprised.

"How long have they been looking?" There's a lot of information missing from that question, such as who 'they' are, or where exactly they're trying to escape from, but it is a question. An important one, in Kiritsugu's mind, if he is to ascertain that something similar to Second Magic is involved. Asking who this person is would provide some information, yes, but almost nothing in the grand scheme of things he finds himself in right now. That line of inquiry can wait. If Kiritsugu can be accused of being overly good at anything, it's prioritizing.

Recognition comes quietly, without much fuss. He knows that face and remembers that voice, even if he never expected to see or hear either of them again. Archer detaches himself casually from any foolish thoughts where it matters who this man is. The only thing that should be of import is that Kiritsugu is from the same world as him. That's all.

His face betrays no conflict. "It's been at least four years. That's if you believe them...but I see no reason not to. It's too elaborate a backdrop to be purely illusion." He shows no hint that it bothers him at all that his own identity wasn't asked after. Why should it, anyway? "If it makes you feel better--it seems time doesn't pass in our world while we're here. I can verify this."

But for all his calm, he's still not looking Kiritsugu in the eye.

It's convenient that Archer wasn't looking him in the eye, for they lose that small streak of desperation, undetectable by any but those who would have known him as something more than a mercenary. Time not being a factor eliminates his biggest concern. Though he's certainly taking everything that's being said with a grain of salt, he can't decipher an obvious reason to lie to him right now.

"I assume you've already tried convincing 'them' to return you." If that is indeed prana he detects, then this person should be more of a threat than most humans. Being unable to bring down whatever administration this place possesses would give Kiritsugu a more accurate assessment of their capabilities.

"You're getting the wrong impression." He puts forth a typical condescending smile. "'They' are people like us, stolen from other worlds. As far as anyone knows, the only one who can return us is the machine that took us."

He hesitates abruptly. The thought occurs to him: if he gives too much information too freely, Kiritsugu will walk away, either out of mistrust or lack of any continuing need for him. Would that be bad? Archer looks really unsure for a second; the smile fades quickly.

"Whatever else is true...as ordinary as this place seems, it holds miracles beyond the capabilities of modern magecraft." He finally meets the other man's eyes, his expression still serious. "The manipulation of parallel worlds, or at least theft from them. The ability to pick and choose between points in time, and hold places within them...and, certainly, the revival of the dead."

While he may be good at extracting information through unconventional means, the mannerisms and social cues through which people typically do so aren't Emiya Kiritsugu's strong suit. He makes note of the conflict in the man's tone, but at no point does the hesitation mean anything to him other than a possible window into a new threat.

He reacts with little surprise to the acknowledgment of magecraft. If anything, the impressive part about that is that the man would reveal his connection to that part of the world so freely. However, given his widespread reputation among magi, the fact that he would mention it like that to a famed exterminator of magi does seem to provide some relief. Could he really be unrelated to him? Would his reference to magecraft be nothing but a product of sensing Kiritsugu's own nature?

None of those lingering questions hold a candle to his surprise at the last statement. One lesson that was well-taught by his mentor (perhaps too well), is that there is no such thing as the revival of humans. Reanimation of their corpses, certainly, but you don't revive something, not even in the most rustic sense of the word, unless a fragment of their consciousness is in there somewhere. Kiritsugu has destroyed thousands of bodies, but he has killed thousands less. If influence on parallel worlds is True Magic, then could this phenomenon be the same?

Naturally, such an outlandish statement does instill some doubt in him. Kiritsugu allows their eyes to meet, his own dead gaze examining the other man's. It seems oddly familiar, though not in a way that he would try to attribute to any one person. More like possessing traces of characteristics he has no intention of recalling at a time like this.

"Countless worlds, and they just so happen to grab two people with magecraft?" It's not idle chatter. Kiritsugu's stance towards that has been established, as has been his lack of trust.

That too-casual smile creeps back onto Archer's face, and he casts his gaze down in the most dismissive way he can manage. It's as he thought: trying to look this man in the eyes without wearing masks of sarcasm and casual mockery is just beyond him. He can't make out how much of what he's feeling is bitterness, how much is frustration, guilt, shame, regret--but he can channel all of it, whatever it is, into calculated smugness.

He has the only answer he could have sought in Kiritsugu's eyes, anyway. There's none of the kindness he still remembers there.

"Should I know the whims of a machine like that?" He shrugs. "I've met stranger things than magi here. Children from ruined worlds, aliens like nothing you've seen, mutants and monsters..."

He glances up from the ground again, and a laugh escapes him. He has to restrain himself so that it's short, because really, it's funny. This encounter is really funny. "You're nothing special in a world that sees such things, Emiya Kiritsugu."

Of course, he's trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

He remains unresponsive to the sardonic remarks coming his way. He's done jobs for an organization of magi while using almost no magecraft himself. While many individual members spend their last days fearing his appearance beyond any nightmare, the ones who contract him tend to think themselves above the Clock Tower's game, unable to face retribution when they inevitably cross a line, and wielding a personality to fit those beliefs. They are rarely right. It is this fact, along with his ability to block emotions, that has allowed Kiritsugu to never really care about how he's talked to.

Eye contact is broken by the other man first, and he is more than willing to accommodate, looking at the crowd ahead. Kiritsugu does not appreciate having another party be aware of his identity without him doing the same. Puts them at an advantage. While he normally wouldn't expect to have the answer just handed to him, that was before the extended surprise that this entire conversation has been.

"Association?"

The laughter was quick and it died in a second, but he's still half-smiling. Half-smirking, really. The expression becomes more evident at that question. "That would be simpler, but someone once told me not to associate with them. So we probably aren't enemies."

It strikes him as strange that this matters. He's cut ties with the life this man saved and shaped long ago, hasn't he? It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter at all--and what's worse is he can't figure out if he wants them to be enemies or not.

"It's too bad, though." He can hide all that confusion well enough, though. He can kill his emotion too. Maybe not as well as Kiritsugu, but well enough for now. "Magecraft is supposedly about give and take, but I can't give you my name. Even here, I won't take that risk." He watches Kiritsugu's face carefully. "Call me Archer."

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First Command

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Sorry. Was sick for a while. Picking up the pace now.

It's all right!

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