Typical corny/romantic statement:
Shiro: I have traveled across the ages, looking for someone like you. No. Looking for you.
*shrugs* Could work.
Merlin actually showing up messed with my plotting a bit. Problem being, if I've got his character down right Shiro would likely say 'screw causality' and not be content with the role of a 'wisened' advisor in the background when he could be helping out directly ...
... wait. Idea! I can still work with this. *bwahahaha*
*cough* Damnit. This means doing more research. Or ... hmm ... maybe not neccessarily.
Aaaaaa .... ctually, if we assume that his control of where he's going is better than the control of _when_ he's going, I can just fit it into ...
file#?? - Flickering Fate or Time is where you find it.
It was over. Finally.
He didn't know how long they'd been on this accursed island, since things like the passing of days or even one's need to sleep and fatigue seemed to have been suspended somehow.
Considering the name, it made sense, actually.
"Are you certain you will not reconsider, my sword brother?" The man standing beside him on the shore asked.
A ship rocked, moored, off beyond the treacherous reefs that surrounded even the most hospitable of possible landing places. Sort of gave the idea of just how friendly this pile or rock in the middle of nowhere really was. A small boat, four men at the oars, was making way towards the beach.
The man wasn't speaking his language, but that was another thing Shiro had managed to 'inherit' from the Heroic Spirit - which needed to understand any and all of the spoken languages of humanity.
The place, the facet, was right.
The time, however ...
Time.
Shiro had to chuckle. Beside his 'sword brother', the living incarnation of that particular element stood.
"I'm sure," he finally said. "As much as I'd like to see the famous Gardens of Babylon, this ... time ... is not when I need to be. Maybe even ... maybe I've even changed too much."
"Too much of what? You helped me in changing my Fate, but what of yours?"
"Mine? No, I don't mean to change my Fate. That's already shattered."
"Then ... Oh, by the Gods," the man startled, and laughed. "A woman! I'm sure of it. Only one thing can drive a man to endure this much, if not the desire to save one's own life."
"As you've aptly proven not a few hours ago," the 'incarnation of time' cut in as she leaned into the man's shoulder. "Not that I am not grateful for your efforts and their results."
"There are some lingering energies around this place," Shiro said, turning his back on the sea, facing the crumbling Fortress of Time. "I think I can use those to send myself forward by enough of a margin."
"If that is what you truly desire to do," the man told him. "Still, you would have been welcome. My father would prize a worthy warrior such as you. If you do not wish it, though, is there nothing I can do to repay you?"
"I was fighting for my own life too, you know," he shrugged. Then considered. "There may be something, though."
***
They watched the man, this 'Emiya Shiro' - an odd name, that - ascend back into the Fortress, even as the boat carried them further out to sea.
It was, Gods willing, the last time either had to see the battlements of this ancient, tomb-like structure.
"Do you think he will succeed?" the man asked.
The woman blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and shuddered. Then turned her back on the Island. "Perhaps. Although Fate is not an easy thing to overcome."
"A journey through time itself, to fulfill a promise. A magical sword, a far off land," the man chuckled. "It's like something out of the old tales."
"From what you've told me, that very same thing could be said about your own life," the Empress of Time jibed.
"Well ... perhaps," replied the Prince of Persia, then drew himself up. "I swear though, I shall repay him. Not only will I do my best assure his message is delivered, no matter how many centuries will pass until it can be, the one to deliver it shall be one to best advise the ruler of that far off land. By my word, I shall."
Well, history went its way, but the family tasked with the delivery of the message and the education of an advisor when the time came survived and spread. A precious few among them had the gift and became Mages, and eventually the story of the old, undecaying scroll with its ancient Babylonian seal faded to a mere family legend. Still, they persevered.
Until, that is, a branch of it that followed the Romans into Britain and settled there heard of the Sword in the Stone.
Thus, the scroll was delivered there, and the various sages - a tradition in the family - competed for the prestige of being the one to open it.
The victor was a man by the name of Merlin.
-Griever
who really wishes he wasn't strapped for cash, because Two Thrones looks really nifty but can't really be played without a functional console. *sigh*
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm
Shiro: I have traveled across the ages, looking for someone like you. No. Looking for you.
*shrugs* Could work.
Merlin actually showing up messed with my plotting a bit. Problem being, if I've got his character down right Shiro would likely say 'screw causality' and not be content with the role of a 'wisened' advisor in the background when he could be helping out directly ...
... wait. Idea! I can still work with this. *bwahahaha*
*cough* Damnit. This means doing more research. Or ... hmm ... maybe not neccessarily.
Aaaaaa .... ctually, if we assume that his control of where he's going is better than the control of _when_ he's going, I can just fit it into ...
file#?? - Flickering Fate or Time is where you find it.
It was over. Finally.
He didn't know how long they'd been on this accursed island, since things like the passing of days or even one's need to sleep and fatigue seemed to have been suspended somehow.
Considering the name, it made sense, actually.
"Are you certain you will not reconsider, my sword brother?" The man standing beside him on the shore asked.
A ship rocked, moored, off beyond the treacherous reefs that surrounded even the most hospitable of possible landing places. Sort of gave the idea of just how friendly this pile or rock in the middle of nowhere really was. A small boat, four men at the oars, was making way towards the beach.
The man wasn't speaking his language, but that was another thing Shiro had managed to 'inherit' from the Heroic Spirit - which needed to understand any and all of the spoken languages of humanity.
The place, the facet, was right.
The time, however ...
Time.
Shiro had to chuckle. Beside his 'sword brother', the living incarnation of that particular element stood.
"I'm sure," he finally said. "As much as I'd like to see the famous Gardens of Babylon, this ... time ... is not when I need to be. Maybe even ... maybe I've even changed too much."
"Too much of what? You helped me in changing my Fate, but what of yours?"
"Mine? No, I don't mean to change my Fate. That's already shattered."
"Then ... Oh, by the Gods," the man startled, and laughed. "A woman! I'm sure of it. Only one thing can drive a man to endure this much, if not the desire to save one's own life."
"As you've aptly proven not a few hours ago," the 'incarnation of time' cut in as she leaned into the man's shoulder. "Not that I am not grateful for your efforts and their results."
"There are some lingering energies around this place," Shiro said, turning his back on the sea, facing the crumbling Fortress of Time. "I think I can use those to send myself forward by enough of a margin."
"If that is what you truly desire to do," the man told him. "Still, you would have been welcome. My father would prize a worthy warrior such as you. If you do not wish it, though, is there nothing I can do to repay you?"
"I was fighting for my own life too, you know," he shrugged. Then considered. "There may be something, though."
***
They watched the man, this 'Emiya Shiro' - an odd name, that - ascend back into the Fortress, even as the boat carried them further out to sea.
It was, Gods willing, the last time either had to see the battlements of this ancient, tomb-like structure.
"Do you think he will succeed?" the man asked.
The woman blinked, as if coming out of a daze, and shuddered. Then turned her back on the Island. "Perhaps. Although Fate is not an easy thing to overcome."
"A journey through time itself, to fulfill a promise. A magical sword, a far off land," the man chuckled. "It's like something out of the old tales."
"From what you've told me, that very same thing could be said about your own life," the Empress of Time jibed.
"Well ... perhaps," replied the Prince of Persia, then drew himself up. "I swear though, I shall repay him. Not only will I do my best assure his message is delivered, no matter how many centuries will pass until it can be, the one to deliver it shall be one to best advise the ruler of that far off land. By my word, I shall."
Well, history went its way, but the family tasked with the delivery of the message and the education of an advisor when the time came survived and spread. A precious few among them had the gift and became Mages, and eventually the story of the old, undecaying scroll with its ancient Babylonian seal faded to a mere family legend. Still, they persevered.
Until, that is, a branch of it that followed the Romans into Britain and settled there heard of the Sword in the Stone.
Thus, the scroll was delivered there, and the various sages - a tradition in the family - competed for the prestige of being the one to open it.
The victor was a man by the name of Merlin.
-Griever
who really wishes he wasn't strapped for cash, because Two Thrones looks really nifty but can't really be played without a functional console. *sigh*
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm