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

[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.