a terrible autonomy

[poletariat]

Oh, magi might pride themselves on being subtle, but there's nothing at all subtle about the battle that raged in the forests last night. They couldn't have missed it even if they hadn't had Archer's sight to draw on. But Archer's sight couldn't pierce the thick veil of snow that rose later, after Berserker tore onto the field. Is he still standing? Is Lancer? Is Caster? Zofia shakes her head, her mouth tightening. Better if they'd all killed each other and sucked their Masters dry.

Is Archer able to bring herself to look at the scorched stumps and blistered ground, the snow blackened by ash? The wind blows a few dying sparks past Zofia's cheek, and she reaches for them. If they singe holes through her gloves, she doesn't notice.

This is what magi do when they fight, she reminds herself. This is what happens when nothing checks their power. But that power's been weakened, and if she acts quickly enough, it'll never be regained in time.

She crouches on the ground, traces her finger through the dirt. Michel and Tohsaka are easiest to track, of all of them. If she finds some proof that either of them lived past their fight with that girl --

There, right by her. A set of motorcycle tracks cut through the snow, and wind away from the forest.

Well, that's one survivor. One exhausted, drained survivor, whose Servant won't yet be at full strength. And what did become of his ally?

She can't quite smile, but her mouth hardens into something almost like one.

Comments

[maygamesbegin]

Archer's jaw has been clenched since the smell of ash first reached her nose, and if it carries on like this she'll crack a tooth. Everything is dead here. The very air is tinged with it. Even the snow, which should be white and pure, is sullied to a greyish black colour.

But she cannot mourn the damage to the environment for too long. A more prominent problem is presenting itself.

"Well, I'm glad this is one party we missed," she says lightly, trying to catch Zofia's attention. When her Master continues to stare at the ground, Archer followes her gaze to a set of tracks through the mud, most likely Michel's bike, heading away from the battlefield. Knowing her fellow countryman got away gladdens Archer's heart, but Zofia's expression is unreadable. "Penny for your thoughts?

[poletariat]

"He won't be at his best, will he?" she says, straightening. The air around her shivers. "Neither will Tohsaka or that girl, if they're alive. I'd say it's an opportunity, wouldn't you?"

[maygamesbegin]

"Yes..." Archer agrees, though Zofia's words aren't really answering her question. But perhaps what she had asked was too vague. "Are you sure you'll want to take out someone like Michel this early? Considering he's not that much of a threat." Though his Servant was - but it seemed like the Golem didn't move without its Master's orders, so the point was moot. "And the girl - which do you mean?" The white haired one looked dead upon her leaving, certainly unthreatening.

[poletariat]

"The one with white hair. She came with Caster, didn't she? I haven't seen her body, or Tohsaka's."

[maygamesbegin]

"Right. I don't think she'll be much of a problem. Our main concern should probably be the Lady Tohsaka," she folded her arms. "More importantly, how do we go about such a thing?"

[poletariat]

"Oh, we'll lure her out." The words come out sharper than she meant them to be, less offhanded. She grinds a pinch of dirt between her fingers. "She owns most of the land around here, doesn't she? She'll probably care more about a threat to it than a threat to anyone on it."

[maygamesbegin]

Archer doesn't know much about Lady Tohsaka's character, but that sounds a little harsh to her ears. "Well, if she's so concerned with the material wealth of her land, she may restrain herself in a fight on her property. So I propose we find a place she is particularly invested in." Which would probably mean observation. Not impossible for one such as Archer, though they'd have to delay action for another half day or so.

[poletariat]

"Mm," she says, not quite in Archer's direction. She walks down the motorcycle tracks. The wind tugs on her sleeves, the ends of her hair, the tails of her coat, and telling it not now is as useless as telling herself not to breathe.

There was a forest outside of Wilno, even larger than this one. Zofia played there, sometimes, when she was a girl. One evening she told her parents she wanted to play hide-and-seek, and she raced to a perfect tree for climbing, with wide forks and sturdy branches. The first branch was just beyond her fingertips until she jumped for it -- and after that she sprung for branches further and further out of reach, and invisible hands lifted her there.

Her parents shouted themselves hoarse looking for her, and turned white when they saw Zofia high up in the tree, waving down at them. You mustn't do that ever again, her father said when he got her down. It isn't safe, you could have fallen, we could have lost you, or someone else could have seen...

A week later, the forest burned, and she wondered for a long time: had someone seen? Was that why?

"We can't wait long," she says. "The longer this goes on..."

[maygamesbegin]

The air around Zofia is restless and stirring, and Archer jogs to catch up with her. "I understand that you want to minimise casualties, but we can't do much on zero information," she says, though it feels like she's shouting at the wind in the trees to calm down so she can aim better. Instead, she tries "Give me a few hours, I'll move as fast as I can - I'd rather not charge into this blind."

[poletariat]

"Of course not," Zofia says, almost absently. She hears Archer well enough over the wind, though hearing and listening aren't quite the same thing. "I shouldn't object to my own plans, should I? I wanted us to wait, and we waited, and here we are."

And what's waiting a few more hours? Hours are nothing when measured against the months leading up to this war, and the years leading up to that. Still --

She looks at the ruined field again, and can almost taste the ash in her mouth.

[maygamesbegin]

The reply is positive and exactly what Archer wanted to hear, but it doesn't make the knot of worry disappear from her stomach, and she usually trusted her intuition on these sorts of things. But Zofia's current mood is somewhat difficult to approach - either way, she hesitates in her departure, staring at her master and shifting like a shy maiden trying to confess her feelings.

Her words die before they are even fully realised, and she escapes off to do as she promised.

[maygamesbegin]

It's nice to see that, though a thousand plus years have passed, some kinds of people never go away.

Chiyo Tohsaka is every snooty noblewoman Marian has had the displeasure of meeting in her life. Not the kind that are simply ignorant - those she can tolerate with a smile and a nod - but the sort that are completely aware of their surroundings and attitude and yet still strive to position themselves as high above others as they possibly can. It's all Marian can do not to set a dung trap for her to walk right under at an opportune moment, but she restrains herself. It won't do any good - that sort of person can't be cured of the ailment known as pride.

There is something in her eyes, however, that intrigues her. Some vivid, wild spark, the sort that she's seen in boys who have shot their first deer, had their first taste of action and blood and liked it. That sort of spark could go either way - either setting the enemy on fire, or burning down their own castle with them in it.

They would have to wait and see. First things first, to report back to Zofia. Hopefully her peculiar mood hadn't worsened in the few hours Archer had been gone.

[poletariat]

Patience is something Zofia's cultivated over time. Stillness has never been. Oh, she can simulate it if she has to, but when magic is breathing, more or less, it's difficult to stop things from happening around you, however unwitting.

Right now, even simulation's impossible. She goes to sit, but taps her nails on the back of her chair instead, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The air churns, twists in on itself. No matter how deeply Zofia breathes, it doesn't stop.

It will when this is over. It will once the Grail is hers. Nothing else should trouble her.

She remembers the motorcycle tracks in the snow, and her fingers tighten, nails scratching the wood beneath them. That stupid young man. Well, there's no need for him to trouble her. At this rate, he's going to get himself killed sooner rather than later, and it's nothing on her conscience.

The air hums, and Zofia looks up sharply, her hand slipping from the chair. "Archer?"

[maygamesbegin]

The air is disturbed, and Archer's worries are confirmed. For a few moments, she finds it difficult to speak, and that's the worst thing about this - she has always been able to speak to Zofia. The absence of that is unsettling. It isn't even a grand thing that's between them - but this unnameable restlessness... like the wind picking up before a storm.

She eventually finds her tongue. "I'm back. Lady Tohsaka's an unpleasant piece of work. I'm sure you'd love her condescending attitude to everyone around her," she tries to smile at her own joke, but it falls flat. Instead, she launches into her report. "She owns a fair bit of land, but if we want to minimise civilian casualties while at the same time preventing her from using her full strength because she fears destroying her own property, we should attack her when she next visits her stables. Fortunately for us, that will be tomorrow morning."

[poletariat]

Archer's assessment of Tohsaka's character isn't at all surprising. Zofia can't smile at it any more than Archer can. She nods instead, and runs her nail over one of the whorls carved in the chair's back. "How are the stables laid out?"

[maygamesbegin]

Archer draws her finger through the air to indicate. "In an L shape, with a large paddock out the back and several more fields beyond. The whole area is enclosed by forest, and the hills get progressively steeper until they turn into mountains. It's perfect turf for my skills, and the air up there is free moving. We could certainly damage them at the very least."

[poletariat]

And for mine. "It looks like. And the Tohsaka Servant -- that has to be Rider, doesn't it?" Assassin is dead. Lancer belongs, or belonged, to the Matou. Berserker is Michel's. Caster's must be that pale girl, and Saber, whoever she serves, came to the battle with Lancer and his Master, so she can't be Tohsaka's either. "Rider might have an edge in the field, but not in mountains or forests, unless his mount comes from one of those."

[maygamesbegin]

"Either way, if he has a terrain boost we'll simply be evenly matched," which she would really rather prefer - a thief she was, but when there was an opportunity for an equal footing battle, she relished it. "And if not, then all the better for us. I will have to handle him, and that leaves you with Lady Tohsaka." She paused, and added apologetically. "I couldn't gather much on her personal fighting style in the time given. Sorry." While she had the utmost faith in Zofia's skills, sending her against an unknown opponent was a bit unfair.

[poletariat]

"You learned how she thinks. That tells me something about how she fights."

Like a magus. Like someone too weighted down by ritual to react as quickly as Zofia can. Like someone too enamored with their power to reveal its secrets easily. Like someone who's spent her life learning the rules to this sort of conflict. And without those rules --

"Let's let the horses loose to lure them over. It distracts them more than it distracts us, and Rider won't have an ordinary mount on hand."

[maygamesbegin]

"Good idea, we can use the chaos to get the jump on them. All I need is one clean shot," she mimed pulling her bow back. "And Rider won't know what hit him."

[poletariat]

"Yes," she agrees, and keeps her expression neutral. "One clean shot."

[maygamesbegin]

Silence settles, and it isn't comfortable. Archer tolerates it for a few minutes, before giving a noise of frustration. "This is dumb! Zofia, I need to know what you're thinking, you've been acting strange all day!"

[poletariat]

"I'm sure it'll pass. I'm --" She pauses. "No, it's nothing serious. I'm ready to act, that's all. Hm. I must be impatient with my impatience."

She tries for a wry half-smile at that, but doesn't entirely manage one. This will pass, though. She hasn't misled Archer about that.

[maygamesbegin]

Archer scrutinises her Master for a few moments longer, taking in that shadow of an attempt at a smile, and the still churning air around her, and gives up. "Alright. Can't do much about impatience. As long as it's just that - and you'd tell me if it wasn't, right?" she can't help but sound a little hopeful. Zofia's friendship and trust are things she values, more than she thought she would, actually.

[poletariat]

"Yes," she says. "If it was something important, that would only make sense, wouldn't it?"

[maygamesbegin]

"Right, yeah," Archer nods, trying to feel relieved, but that persistent feeling still sticking to her. The suffocating silence descended again. "I'm gonna go keep a watch on them. In case they go anywhere unusual we might have to know about."

[poletariat]

Zofia pries herself away from the chair. For a moment, she feels around for something else to rest her hand on, but stops. No, rest isn't what she needs. She taps her chin instead. "Wise. I'll find something to eat, I think."

[maygamesbegin]

"Okay," a pause. "Build and conserve your strength for tomorrow, just in case. We can't be too careful." And with a last, lingering glance, she vanishes into the air.