tvk | ⚔ 010; [video; dated to mid-Dark Hour]

[The video shows what appears to be Lancer in his hotel room, face mostly obscured by a book and wearing a suit he's never been seen in before. Behind the chair he sat in, a pair of lances leaned against the wall--a long crimson one and a shorter one in vivid yellow.]

'Hate'.

[Lancer's calm and collected voice had an extra layer to it today, an almost demonic echo that turned gentle tones into mocking amusement.]

'Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you since I began to live'.

[He lowered the book slightly; his eyes were the same yellow-gold as ever, but today they were ice cold and glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. Instead of his commonly seen casual smile, he wore a condescending and cruel smirk.]

Such an interesting volume to have in my small collection.

Because oh, do I hold within myself such hatred. Such spite and rage, I truly am a worthless knight. But why should I do anything but hate? Being kind and generous has gained me nothing but pain. I don't understand, I don't understand, I don't understand...! Why does it hurt so much? Tell me why everything I do only causes me pain!

'Please, allow me to help you.' 'What can I do for you?' 'How can I assist you?' I never asked for anything in return, I never even asked to be thanked for my efforts. If I'm not helping people, then what is the point of my existence? Have I been placed here only to feel pain in my failures?

Kayneth wished to summon a King of Conquerors--he never even wanted me. And why should he have? I am hardly a hero at all, next to people like Iskander or Ireland's precious hound. I am but a man who stole Fionn mac Cumhaill's betrothed and ran like a coward.

I have neither purpose nor right to live. My hatred is the only thing strong about me. I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the man who cursed and corrupted the Holy Grail itself!

[There was a quiet sound of movement off-camera, directing Lancer to look at the floor with a cruel smirk.]

You're wrong...

[The voice offscreen was strained and shaky, but unmistakably Diarmuid's--without the demonic layer this one had. The first Lancer's smirk only grew wider at that.]

...Do you know what I hate most of all, Prospero?

[He reached off-camera, picking up the original Diarmuid by his shirt collar--slightly bruised and scratched up, wincing in obvious pain. The second one with the cruel smirk on his face calmly took off Diarmuid's glasses and put them on himself, expression not changing in the slightest.]

More than Kayneth and Kiritsugu, more than my own disgusting need to make people happy?

Arturia, please help me--

[He choked that much out in a rushed, almost desperate voice; for the first time, Diarmuid was afraid. Not of death, no, but of the fact that his other self's words seemed to ring true in a dark corner of his heart.]

[He was afraid, and he wanted her at his side.]

More than anything...I hate myself.

[The video cut out suddenly, without another word.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Release him at once.

[Issei had gone past being scared, afraid of what this person was saying about Diarmuid. His friend was hurt. There was nothing to do but help him.]

Hm~? Why should I do that, Issei Ryudo?

Issei, c-call Arturia--Saber, Cu Chulainn, someone, just--

Quiet, your precious friend is talking.

[You know, there were very few moments where Neah could visibly be angry. This was one of the few moments that caught him off-guard, and made him very, very, angry. More so, because he had considered Lancer a friend, as well as a trusted comrade. So. It's only right that his rage is radiating through the video feed right? Right.

But while he was angry, Neah was a bit confused at this show. ... Was that.... Lancer?]

My. Seems like you are having an awfully fun time with him. [TWISTED EXPRESSION.]

Release him.

Hm? Since when was this any of your affair, dear Neah? You seem so angry, and on behalf of one you hardly know...

Lancer-!?

[There's a worried sound coming out from Shirou, and he was definitely taken off-guard by this display of... weirdness.]

Emiya, find Arturia and--!

Silence. [You might hear a nondescript scuffle going on; when Lancer speaks again, it's the one with the cruel tone to his words.]

Emiya Shirou. You, who so wastes precious Arturia's affection. You who dares consider me a comrade after what your revolting father did to me...What business is this of yours?

Hardly known or not, Dearest imposter, it became my affair when you decided to disrupt the night.

Hey. It's damn rude to parade around with someone else's face and spout venom like that. Didn't your mother teach you manners?

[Lancer spoke in the nonchalant, conversational manner he so often used, but there was an undertone to it as cold as ice and an expression in his eyes to match. Whatever this thing was? It was making a mockery of a fellow knight, and a comrade. Such an action was unconscionable.]

Me, an impostor? I regret to inform you that you are quite mistaken. I am exactly who I say I am: Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. Servant Lancer. The sad little puppet with its strings cut.

[ That video post was disturbing.

So much so that someone's hotel door is being kicked open. ]

Ah, dearest Ulster's hound, forgive me--though I do not deserve it. I do not even deserve to stand in the presence of a knight such as yourself.

What right does a selfish traitor have to speak with one who gave all he had for others?

[Welp. Whatever happened over the network, the Shadow was gone by the time she kicked the door in--looks like you'll have to wait for that particular confrontation, Saber.]

[In the meantime, you might want to do something about the fact that Lancer's out cold on the floor with the start of bruises on his throat and a nasty-looking cut on his arm.]

[

You friggin tease. ]

The hell're you talking about? Only traitor that comes to mind off-hand is some crazy priest.

I could've sworn I was talking to a knight who put his kinsmen over his own well-being, but it seems like his voice and face have been stolen.

Hah...[He laughed, a cruel and humorless sound that didn't suit that voice at all.]

You speak to the man who tore apart the Fianna in one night, Culann's Hound. Warriors all worthy of their own legends, each one--and with one action I reduced them to petty infighting and dissension. All I had to do was run away with one woman, and I ruined more lives than I can count.

It's funny, isn't it? How easily the closest of friends can fall apart.

[ And there's no one conscious enough to question how a 5'2" girl can kick down a hotel door. Alas, it is Sacchin in this post. ]

Diarmuid?

[ Falling to her knees beside his battered body, she brings a hand to cup his cheek while leaning her face in close towards his own. ~~Pucker up, sleeping beauty~~ Once she feels his breath tickling her face, there's a sigh of relief.

Her knight was alright. ] Awaken. [ A simple command. ] I am here now.

He is a friend of mine, now release him!

[All those accusations thrown towards him was completely ignored by his innate desire to save Lancer.]

You didn't corrupt the Grail.

[The teacher in Waver really couldn't let that one slide. ~~The more you know~~~]

And, just as a word of advice, if you aren't looking to bring more pain upon yourself, you ought to release Diarmuid.

[OH LIKE I WOULD EVER MISS A CHANCE TO TROLL YOU. . .]

[calm your shit, i'm building suspense.]

Ow... [Lancer blinked a few times, raising a hand to his head. He must've hit it at some point--that was surely a dream, wasn't it?]

Arturia, what...

[He trailed off, looking at the gash on his arm with a serious expression. That was no ordinary injury.]

...Where is he? I couldn't--he fought like a Servant, I didn't even have a chance.

I cursed it, and it's cursed. If you are seeking to play games, Lord El-Melloi, I suggest you come up with a better one.

I don't know what you're talking about. I am Diarmuid.

Are you playing the hero, Emiya Shirou? How very quaint. Tell me...what does it mean to you, being a hero?

If you were told to take an action that would condemn you to death and your brethren to perpetual fighting, would you take it? Could you?

You're speaking to the man who was remarkably efficient at killing anything -- anyone he ever gave a damn about.

[Spoken dryly and without humor; though part of him wonders if those parts of his life were retold among the Fianna.]

...Bah, talking to you is a waste of time. Put Diarmuid on the phone: he's got some sense in his head, at least.

I am Diarmuid. Can't you tell?

Nah, for one he doesn't have that shitty-sounding echo to his voice.

I don't know what you want me to say. I am who I say I am. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, traitor to the Fianna. Wielder of the Golden Rose of Mortality and the Crimson Rose of Exorcism. Breaker of hearts across Ireland.

Who else could I be?

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⚔ 010; [video; dated to mid-Dark Hour]

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