tvk | Entries tagged with lancer (diarmuid ua duibhne)

What is the point of all this? Is there a purpose at all, or is our presence here merely a game to some power much higher than ourselves?

Arturia's left once more. Irisviel as well, and several others. ~~How long until I am the only one remaining in this house?~~

[Diarmuid deleted that last line, though not as quickly as he might have hoped.]

Why do I persist in the blind and desperate hope that things will improve? They may yet, only to sharply dive into utter despair once more.

Tell me why I should treasure and fight for a world that does nothing but take those I care for.

...I want to leave.

[To those that knew him well enough, that last line may well have carried a very dark subtext to it. What remained for him before his arrival? A violent death, return to the Throne of Heroes...and sweet erasure of the kind memories of those lost that burned through his heart.]

[It sounded much more enticing than it should have.]

croibhristeoir

( it's plain to see evil inside of me is on the rise )

croibhristeoir

[Arturia had asked Diarmuid to take a week off after seeing how exhausted he really was. Knowing she was at the top of the list of people he simply couldn't argue with, Diarmuid simply accepted it. Of course, he wasn't just going to ignore hearing the sounds of fighting a short distance away, least of all so soon after the Dark Hour started. Even when he was told not to do anything...well, some things just couldn't be avoided. Diarmuid closed the book he was reading and picked up his lance, cautiously stepping outside the house--he'd just be long enough to make sure no one was in danger, then he'd go right back to doing as Arturia had asked of him. Simple, right?]

[It could never be that simple. Because just down the road, exchanging almost playful blows with a Dancing Hand that seemed to want nothing to do with this...it was a sight that momentarily caused Diarmuid to forget how to breathe. There was no way--surely whatever governed this place would never be so merciful as to resurrect that knight as well as Diarmuid's own father.]

[He wasn't fully aware of dropping his lance in shock, or of sprinting forward as fast as his legs would carry him. All he took notice of was the sheer elation at seeing that knight with clear green eyes and unruly copper colored hair, and the utter disbelief that he was even here at all. Diarmuid closed the distance between them in an instant, speaking in a rushed tone as if he fully expected the other individual to just vanish.]

Oscar--that's really you, isn't it? How--when did you-?!

[The other knight turned at that, twirling the short sword in his hand and returning it to its sheath. Had his eyes flashed gold for a second? No, surely that was just exhaustion playing with Diarmuid's mind. That proud demeanor, that confident smirk, everything was precisely as he recalled.]

Did you think me so easily lost, Dián? [Even the old affectionate name he'd usually been annoyed by sounded like a tremendous relief, and Diarmuid immediately threw his arms around his old friend's shoulders.]

It has been far too long, I feared you would never--

[An impossible occurrence cut off the older knight's sentence. Impossible not because it was an act defying reality, but because it was something that would never, could never happen. Of all the swords drawn against Diarmuid in his lifetime, this one flash of silver would never have been guided with the purpose of drawing his own blood.]

[The quick motion had been the only warning the first knight of the Fianna had, and it was only barely enough. Though he moved aside as quickly as he was able, Oscar's sword cut a deep gash in Diarmuid's side. The pain hardly even registered through how completely unthinkable this was as he stumbled backwards.]

So you plan to be difficult again, do you? Things would be far easier if you stopped running like a coward and accepted your punishment, Diarmuid.

What are you talking about--?! [This was bad. He'd left Gae Dearg a distance behind him, and he wasn't even wearing armor; that much probably would have prevented this injury being as bad as it was.]

First you steal Grandfather's betrothed, now you take a woman devoted to someone else. I would almost feel sorry for you if I believed you did this accidentally.

[The other knight's eyes were definitely bright gold now, a malicious grin on his face.]

Y...you're not... [Diarmuid stumbled slightly, falling against the nearest streetlight for support.]

And of course you will not even defend yourself against me. All you can do is run and hide, right? [The thing that was and wasn't Oscar laughed coldly.] Shall we see if you can survive that way once more?

[He turned and disappeared into the darkness with that last taunting remark--or was it a challenge?--leaving Diarmuid to sink to the ground and wonder if he could stand up before he ended up bleeding to death.]

[...or if it was even worth trying.]

croibhristeoir

[private text to cashcow and smothersome]

[The message is very simple. It's little more than an address and a small note:]

Everything's been taken care of. If you need help moving anything, just let me know.

[Upon arrival to that address, they would find a reasonably sized two-story house with three separate bedrooms and a high-fenced backyard large enough for...say, two very large cats. Saber specifically would find a cake awaiting her on the kitchen table.]

[video]

[The second message comes later, the phone having been casually tossed aside with its owner's jacket. Wherever Diarmuid is, it looks somewhat empty; there's a few basic pieces of furniture with a few scattered cardboard boxes full of gods only know what. Most notably would be the couch Diarmuid himself was draped on, and...yep, he was already asleep.

[His exhaustion was becoming far clearer than he'd ever have liked to let on. His own problems and limitations were nothing, or at the very least nothing he'd want others to know about. Lately Diarmuid had been working so hard he couldn't recall the last time he'd slept a full night, But with this much finally taken care of and settled, the knight in casual clothes would at least allow himself a few minutes' rest before something else came up.]

croibhristeoir

[In the afternoon, Diarmuid put a call out on the network--running the bookstore was getting off to a rocky start, but he'd managed to get a break at least.]

...This may sound like an odd question, but did anyone else have a strange dream last night? I'm not sure it was like anything else that I've eve--

[Static.]

[The next thing shown was a video of a strangely dreamlike quality, slightly faded and seeming not entirely connected with reality. Images came in a few quick flashes as if a channel keeps being changed in search of something--first is shown a child with bright golden eyes and a brighter smile. He was almost always at his father's side--or hiding behind him, when it came to seeing an average group of women passing by.]

[It was unmistakably Diarmuid, more so when the view switched to the first knight of the Fianna as a teenager, playfully grinning as he sparred against a second knight with flaming red hair. Likely the most notable thing about that last moment was how heartfelt and truly happy his smile was--while he smiled often, it was almost always with some tinge of broken sadness, something he'd never had in those days.]

[Static again, for only a second or two.]

[When that ended, there were no quick flashes--next came images far clearer. This was the story of a knight who never wanted fame, least of all in the way he received it. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, the unwilling thief of his lord's fiancee that paid for his crime as only a traitor could.]

[There was no static after that, but the video seemed to cut out for a moment; if one listened carefully, they would have been able to hear a possibly familiar voice.]

['In the stories of legend, you are fairly well known for womanizing and adultery. Were you not intending to seduce your master’s fiancée?']

[It had been too much to bear. A lesser knight would have snapped under the strain long before even becoming a Servant. Diarmuid...he was different. He didn't mind accepting others' hatred, as long as he kept to what he believed was the right and honorable thing. But Kayneth...it had been too much. Being so hated and mistrusted, it made him sick and tore at his heart until there was nothing left.]

[That quiet and shy child with the bright smile, that playful teenager surrounded by his friends and fellow knights, that compassionate and self-sacrificing knight...broke.]

['Unforgivable...I'll never forgive you! You dead men who are slaved by fame, you who desecrated the glory of knights... Let my blood stain that dream! I curse the Holy Grail! I curse that your wishes will become disasters!']

[This was a man who had never known hatred, never felt rage until that one moment. No matter how unhappy his circumstances had been in life, he met it all with calm acceptance. And yet over the course of a single Holy Grail War, that legendary calm and patience had been brought down to nothing, crushed under the heel of an equally broken magus.]

[When the illusions broke, when reality cut back into the impromptu recollection of that which he wished he could forget, the video showed Diarmuid looking deathly pale and utterly horrified.]

[Without another word, he cut off the video and sank into the nearest chair with his face in his hands.]

croibhristeoir

[Diarmuid seems to be in a perpetual state of red-as-a-tomato today. Nothing to see here, nothing embarrassing, PROCEEDING WITH DISTRACTION AND SUBJECT CHANGE]

S-so, er...I've been meaning to ask if anyone here wanted lessons in fighting. It's been s-some time since I last extended the offer, so I thought I would do so again. I c-can teach anyone in the use of a lance, sword, or unarmed combat--

[To someone offscreen:] No, Father, we aren't going to celebrate this and you're blowing it far out of proportion ...No, we're not going to--I-if you would please just let me talk, I would get to that matter shortly.

[Ahem.]

On another note, er...what does it mean when a woman asks you 'what are we'? I really don't know, after a lifetime of women throwing themselves at me I admit I don't understand how to handle this normally. And similarly, h-how...

How does one request that someone move in with them?

croibhristeoir

Neah Walker seems to have left. I have his pet bird, if anyone was concerned.

[He sent the message and stared at his phone for a long time without properly seeing it. Or anything else, for that matter. Diarmuid was so lost in thought that he didn't quite register that if looks could kill, the device in his hand would have a hole burned through it.]

[For all his faith and all he said about things not being so terrible, the pain of separation still hurt as clearly as the lingering occasional ache in his chest. Of the friends he'd made in Prospero, Neah was among those he'd known the longest. They were close friends in a way that Diarmuid rarely shared with anyone, and that was what made it hurt even more. Arturia, Grainne, Issei, Neah...that was more or less the list of his closest friends and loved ones, all gone without a trace.]

[Diarmuid was more than used to pain, emotional or physical. He could withstand it, could reassure and console others during it, and would continue on the best he could. But there was something few people knew about him--something which in recent memory, he'd only ever even hinted at to Arturia.]

[Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, fearless first blade of the Fianna...was terrified of being isolated.]

[Of course, he'd always had friends and allies within reach. He was well-loved in the Fianna, but outside of them? He wasn't very popular with those who thought he'd steal their wives or lovers at a glance, and the empty affection of those under his curse was worse than being left on his own.]

[He was never alone, but he was always lonely. A place like this where he could actually have friends without pushing them away through uncontrollable circumstances...that much made the city like paradise. But the more people left, he felt himself gradually more unsettled and even more lonely than ever before.]

[He dropped the phone and sank into a chair finally, hiding his face in folded arms. There was nothing he could do--there was never anything he could do. He couldn't control the curse back then, couldn't control how many people resented him, couldn't control who Prospero chose to send away or when they did it.]

[For all the strength and skill he possessed, he was utterly helpless. And before he could remind himself that no, he had to remain steady and calm for everyone else's sake? Diarmuid was crying as quietly as possible for the few moments in which no one could see him.]

croibhristeoir

Ah, I don't know what I'm doing...and I don't remember the ascent being that difficult last time.

[Diarmuid spoke more to himself than the network at first, turning on his phone one morning (for Prospero, at least--it was already afternoon where he was) to show a verdant landscape, Diarmuid himself on the low southern side of a mountain.]

I finally found it. It's taken me the better part of a day, but I found it. [The view shifted slightly as Diarmuid sat down on the grass, tired but smiling all the same.]

But I don't understand why I sought it out. Who in their right mind would look for the exact spot where their life ended? [He placed the phone beside him and laid back with his arms folded behind his head.] Maybe I...just needed to shift things to a different perspective.

I have lived but twenty-six years and yet I have seen changing eras in a way no mortal ever could. It is exhausting to consider that although this country is still home as no other ever could be, all things tangible that connected me to it are now long dead, gone, and faded away. All that remains is this one place where my blood once stained the ground.

Listen when I say that I have been in Prospero since the beginning. Or at least, since the earliest date anyone can recount spending here. Of those I met in that first Dark Hour, to my knowledge few if any remain now. One, maybe two others? But Princess Serenade, Kaito, Ainosuke, Haruhi...they are as unreachable now as the rest of the Fianna I parted with upon this mountain.

But that is alright. Even if all those I care for should vanish, they will remain as dear to my heart as Oisin and Oscar as well as all of the others. And for all those that disappear, others will arrive--not to take their place, but to offer a measure of friendship and comfort in such troubled times. So it is alright. No matter how it aches, how it feels as though someone has reached into your chest and crushed your living heart...you are not alone. None of us are.

Please don't give up. I've seen what happens when people do.

[Diarmuid took a deep breath and closed his eyes, sighing quietly. Moving to shut the phone off, his thoughts being a thousand miles away distracted him enough to switch it to audio instead.]

It's been so long...but I'm home, Father. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. But you don't have to worry. I don't need you to get me out of trouble anymore. I can take care of myself...and all of them, if they wish it of me. So please, just allow me the strength to be as caring for them as you once were to me.

Current Location: County Sligo, Ireland
Current Music: The Best Is Yet To Come

croibhristeoir

[The room was empty when he awoke--no, 'empty' was the wrong word. There were still the books he'd been reading, the red and gold roses he loved so dearly, the collection of weapons he'd pulled together...but that was all. No other was in the room, and Diarmuid was alone.]

[He knew right away something was wrong; the instinct of a knight rarely if ever led him astray. Grainne should have been there. She was there last night, and as far as he knew there was no reason for her to have left. If she had, he'd have known for certain. Diarmuid was a light sleeper at the best of times and an insomniac at the worse. But here he was, and she was gone. Would she be angry if he called rather than search for her personally? He'd made things painfully awkward between them, so it was hard to say...but he called her all the same, only to receive silence in return. Her name stricken from the contact list meant but one thing, though he felt sick to realize it.]

[Recent events had made it seem as though his devotion to her could be called into question...in Diarmuid's mind, there was no question about it. He had absolutely been devoted to Grainne and loved her dearly, the only uncertainty being whether she loved him truly or if her affection had been a result of the mark on his face. No matter her reasoning, he did love her, and that was why such uncertainty had hurt. But now? Now he would never be able to determine why she cared about him, or if she ever did so of her own free will. She was dead, gone, thousands of years and miles away. And there was nothing Diarmuid could do.]

[At moments like this when he felt as though all hope was lost, there was one person he would turn to above any others. Arturia would know what to do, she could give him some form of comfort where he feared none could be found. If he just called her--]

[Silence.]

[The phone dropped from his hand and fell to the ground, but he wasn't fully aware of it. He wasn't fully aware of anything as reality sank in. His beloved wife Grainne was gone. Arturia, for whom he would have risked any danger and sacrificed all that he had...gone. Disappeared, for certain this time. He couldn't stop them, couldn't prevent this fate for either of them just as he could not change his own. He had been destined to die at his Master's hands, and now he was destined to be left behind. What could he do now if not protect Grainne? Who could understand him if not Arturia? Who could he ever confide in if not those two?]

[And that was the moment in which calm, patient Diarmuid Ua Duibhne snapped.]

[An anguished, pained, broken scream could be heard throughout at least a hallway or two on the sixth floor of the hotel. The quiet and choked back sobbing that followed, on the other hand...he'd try damn heard to make sure no one heard that at all.]

[Not too long after, he managed to pull himself together enough to write a message:]

Leaving.

Don't know when or where I'm going.

I don't want to stay here.

Current Music: Decretum

croibhristeoir

[The phone wasn't 'turned on' so much as it was 'knocked aside', or at least knocked out of its owner's hand. The only thing visible at first was a flash of immaculate white armor before the phone fell. After striking the ground, the video took a moment to come back into focus; at which point even under the dim lighting of the Dark Hour one might be able to make out one deadpan Persona in white currently trying to strangle his summoner in black and green.]

Why...are you...?! [Attempting to pry his Persona's hands off his throat ended in failure, but luckily enough there was a good reason for that--Diarmuid's right hand was occupied with holding the crimson lance Gae Dearg, which struck out a moment later to force the dark-haired Persona to back off...and take his own lance in hand. Trying to catch his breath as quickly as possible and stumbling just a little, Diarmuid moved into a fighting stance opposite the other lance wielder.]

[Lightning fast blurs of light and dark armor clashed against each other, the striking of blade on blade illuminating the air with the occasional sparks as they met each other's attacks. It was fortunate, Diarmuid realized, that his Noble Phantasm had been returned to him. Even without its power, there was no lance in this world which he could use with nearly as much skill or expertise. And if this was the opponent he had to face...then he would need every bit of skill he could pull together.]

[But there was a problem, evident in the small hesitations and missteps only an expert could possibly notice. Though he hid it well and though a healing spell had fixed the worst of it, Diarmuid was still injured. And by the smallest of irritated looks on his face, it was clear his Persona saw it as well. Of course he did--he was a manifestation of Ireland's greatest knight, summoned from the heart of one who held him in the highest regard. It would have been stupid to assume he didn't see those small mistakes as a tremendous neon sign proclaiming exactly where Diarmuid was injured.]

[The white lance crackled with sparks of blue electricity, and at the next moment the long-haired Persona moved--twirling and swinging his lance to strike at Diarmuid's midsection with the shaft rather than the blade itself.]

[Whether the resounding crack that resulted was from the electricity or Diarmuid's already cracked ribs breaking further was anyone's guess, but he collapsed almost immediately with a choked cry of pain. Why his Persona hadn't gone for a killing strike was unclear, at least until one saw the expression of the knight standing over his fallen summoner. He looked down at Diarmuid with cold disdain, as if to say he wasn't even worth the bloodstains his lance would receive. With that, he disappeared as the video cut out.]

[About five minutes later, there would be a short message to follow:]

few streets south of the hotel

i could use some help

immediately

croibhristeoir

[action; locked to Saber]

[She was alive. She was alive, she was alive, and while not everything had followed his plan perfectly, she was alive and that was all Diarmuid cared about as the result of it. That was the best he could have hoped for, and now she was on her way to his hotel room--it was probably lucky Grainne wasn't around. He had already had a hell of a time explaining why he had come home bruised, bloody, and with at least two cracked ribs.]

[Whatever. Didn't matter. So what if moving caused him agonizing pain, she hadn't asked him to move. He needed to stay exactly where he was and wait, as he had promised he would. Just a few minutes more and all of this would have been made worthwhile as soon as he saw her face.]

[video]

[Much later, Diarmuid finally made a video post; probably less than a good idea, because then everyone could see how scratched up, bruised, and bandaged his fight with Maiya had left him. But despite all that, he seemed...oddly content.]

I missed my birthday. Shame, really...I'd hoped to celebrate it for the first time in quite a while. That's alright, it is not as if I've never ignored this before. I wonder, does this make me twenty-six or does it not count for someone like me?

[He shrugged, then seemed to immediately regret it judging by how he winced in pain.]

Ah, one more thing--how well do healing spells work on broken bones? [Calm and casual as ever.] Even a little would help, it's actually very difficult to move as I am now.

croibhristeoir

[So she was gone. Or at least, Diarmuid couldn't find her. If she was dead...shouldn't she have come back by now? How long had it been? He honestly didn't know, but he knew it hurt terribly.]

[He was lonely. No, maybe he'd always been lonely to some extent, since his summoning or even well before that. And the only one who could ever relieve that pain was one who understood him, one who believed in the same ideals he did and fought with him as though they were but one individual. Though he had put aside his emotional attachment to Arturia, 'Lancer' could not deny his connection with 'Saber' and would never try. Without her now...there was a distinct empty sensation within him now, like his heart had suddenly disappeared from his chest.]

[Diarmuid could be found lingering around various places in Prospero that day--the bookstore, the park, the hotel and everywhere in between--and though he did his best to conceal it the lingering sense of unhappiness was clear in every inch of his demeanor.]

croibhristeoir

[Remain calm, Diarmuid reminded himself. He had to keep his composure. Losing his patience and even panicking came far too easily to him these days, and it would be of no help here.]

[There was nothing to be done about it, he thought as he walked out of the bookstore and adjusted his glasses. Nothing he could say would change what he'd done, nothing would undo what had been said or the actions he'd taken. All he could do now was once more face the consequences of his betrayal, and there was no way around it. No matter how it hurt, he would bear it all the same.]

[While there were many unkind things Diarmuid had been called in life, there was one insult he could not bear to withstand. One that caused him a great deal of pain and yet one that was seeming more and more accurate as time passed.]

['In the stories of legend, you are fairly well known for womanizing and adultery.']

[Call him a traitor, fine. Call him anything, he would have taken such little injuries without complaint. But call him a womanizer...and not even death would hurt more. Diarmuid would readily confess to the crime of having broken more than his share of hearts, but it was not of his own will that such things had happened. What right did anyone have to assume he would have dared brought so much pain knowingly?!]

[But now...here he was, without the curse and yet causing Arturia pain while turning his back on Grainne at the same time.]

[Diarmuid took out his phone and stared at it for a long moment, leaning back against the nearest wall. His legs threatened to give out at the mere idea of confessing what he had done. Every word and insult that had been thrown at him...he was proving them all right. he was proving Kayneth right. Worse than all that, experiencing for the first time the agony of unrequited love that he had caused so many women in his lifetime? It was pain without compare, and he hated himself for inflicting it upon so many without even having full comprehension of how it hurt.]

[Putting it off any longer would do nothing but worsen the situation. So hesitantly and with a trembling hand, he typed out a message.]

[private text to Gráinne]

( don't need anything like dreams or a tomorrow )

croibhristeoir

[Diarmuid's been a bit scarce since the Lovers shadow was defeated. The whole mess gave him something of a shock, all things considered, and so he kept mostly to himself for a little while. But he grew tired of that quickly, and now that things had calmed down the former Servant tried to get back to what passed for normal.]

[Just before he left his hotel room that afternoon, a hardcover book resting on the table caught his eye--how long had he owned it for? Nearly as long as he'd been in Prospero, surely. In fact he recalled buying it not very long after awakening his Persona. Diarmuid wanted to revisit things, to again hear the legends that had been so commonly told when he was younger. He had admired the strength and loyalty of that knight, as well as the courage to meet his end with laughter and acceptance.]

[But in this era, the legend of the Hound of Ulster was not the only one to have come from their homeland. Diarmuid had left his own story behind, written with every small action he'd taken in life. Maybe it was finally time to see what sort of record was left behind.]

['You are not guilty of the geis which has been laid upon you', said Oisin, 'and I tell you to follow Grainne, and keep yourself well against the wiles of Fionn.'

'And what counsel do you give me, Diorruing?'

'I tell you to follow Grainne, though your death will come of it and I grieve for it.']

[It was not a happy tale. Diarmuid had certainly known that even as he lived through it. From the very first night he and all around him had known the story's end was already written. But what more could he have done? From the moment she laid eyes on him, there was no other path he could follow and still preserve his pride as a knight.]

['It was no long time after that when Fionn and the fianna of Erin came up, and the agonies of death and of instant dissolution were then coming upon Diarmuid.

'It likes me well to see thee in that plight, O Diarmuid,' said Fionn; 'and I grieve that all the women of Erin are not now gazing upon thee: for thy excellent beauty is turned to ugliness, and thy choice form to deformity.']

[...Even if it ended badly. No, it didn't matter how it ended. Death had come with no regrets great enough worth mentioning, and oh, how he ever missed the days when he could forgive so easily.]

[Sitting alone on a park bench, Diarmuid closed the book he held and slowly reached up to take his glasses off. A moment or two passed in silence, his expression unreadable and perhaps even a little cold. Then...he just smiled to himself, slowly. There was no way to change his past, and also nothing he would have done differently. He couldn't live up to his full expectations, but Diarmuid had confidence that he'd done his best. So...it was alright. He could try one last time for a life without a tragic ending.]

croibhristeoir

[action]

[A little known but often inferred truth about Diarmuid was that he was fast. Incredibly so; in his lifetime he'd literally run cross-country and back again. And as a Servant he had Rank A+ Agility--hard to keep up with, even harder to match. As a human, he was definitely fast enough to put most track teams to shame. But today? Today the former Servant in civilian clothes was a streak of goddamn lightning.]

[One might find him around Prospero today, sprinting past like hell itself is behind him before ducking into the nearest alley or behind any conveniently-placed building. Something obviously had him startled, and startling a knight of the Fianna was by no means a simple matter.]

[And what could frighten Diarmuid Ua Duibhne so badly that he ran and hid rather than stand and fight?]

[The mob of women that ran past shortly after he took cover.]

[It's going to be a long day.]

[audio]

[The sounds of a door slamming shut, being locked, and a chair being placed in front of it can be heard. Followed shortly after is Diarmuid's voice muttering to himself; tossing the phone aside, he hadn't noticed he'd turned it on.]

I just...I just have to think. I lived with it once, I can do it again. I am still human, everyone else is still human, so it is not as if anyone has magic resistance...damn it, damn it, damn it, why now of all times?

[A pause, accompanied by the sounds of pacing.]

...I'll simply have to leave--with Grainne if she wishes, but leave all the same. I don't want to start running again, but what choice do I have? Devola, Saori, Hakuno, Arturia...I do not want any of them to suffer, and that's all they would do if they saw me now.

[A deep breath and the pacing stops. There's another pause before Diarmuid speaks again, nearly inaudible this time.]

...I don't want this again. Please. Father, what am I meant to do if you can't help me this time?

[Following that was the sound of one slumping against the wall.]

This is troublesome. I'll have to talk to a few others and see what they think. Assuming this doesn't end in Fionn trying to kill me again, at least. I'd at least appreciate it if no one killed me this time.

croibhristeoir

[It's late, and judging by the half a glass of who knows what by his hand, someone's been drinking. Apparently not enough to do anything stupid, as he just seems to be sitting in his hotel room looking thoughtful.]

I have noticed many of us here seem to have nothing but time. Which for some is a luxury we can hardly find in our own worlds.

[He sounds sober enough, at least. Carefully choosing his words and thinking over what he wanted to say, Diarmuid leaned his head on his hand and continued.]

As for myself, I've had the time to consider a great many things...as events have proven difficult, the most pressing of these would be the presence of someone I hate. There is someone in this city whose mere presence angers me, who I could never forgive and have no wish to try. But upon reflecting on such a subject, I have arrived at a realization.

As much as I hate him...I think I pity him even more. [He sighed, taking a drink from the glass beside him before continuing.]

Upon considering it, I've realized this is someone who may never understand the simple joy that a knight experiences upon helping another. Someone who meets the concept of selflessness with suspicion and derision rather than understand one who is content with placing others first. Even though I can never forgive him, and even though the mere thought of him puts me on edge...my heart truly aches to know any one individual could truly live in such a way.

And if he should be listening...then I am sorry. I'm sorry that I could not finish what was started, and I'm...sorry I punched you. That may have been unfair of me.

More than anything, I am truly sorry that I could not lead you to understand the heart of a knight. And I wish only that someday...you could begin to comprehend it.

Current Music: On the Rise

croibhristeoir

Ow--!

[Yep, it's this shit again.]

Arturia, please stop moving around so much.

I must protest this, Diarmuid--I know not what has overcome you, but surely you have gone utterly mad!

You are the one not listening to reason. If you did not insist upon moving so much, this would not hurt.

I--ow--seriously doubt this to be true! If you will not cease this, I will be left with no choice but to--ow--either call for aid or personally force you to stop! [She mad.]

[Honestly confused:] Forgive me, but don't you think you may be overreacting a little?

I will show you an 'overreaction', Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, if you do not stop in this futile attempt immediately!

[ooc: WELP ANOTHER JOINT POST. Blue is Saber, green is Diarmuid.]

truthsnomiracle

[The feed that starts is at a strange angle. It's looking up at two men sitting on a bench outdoors, though the one in a black trenchcoat and burgundy pants is more clearly visible than the the one in a similarly black coat and green scarf. The former man looks rather irritated and pulls his hand up from the bench as he begins to speak to the latter. Maybe what jostled the phone loose was him striking the bench?]

( Technicolor chat between Edgeworth and Diarmuid here, with a plot-relevant namedrop at the start! )

[As Edgeworth runs out of words, Diarmuid pulls his "son" into a hug. Edgeworth looks awkward for a moment, then raises his arms to at least attempt to embrace his "father" in return. Shortly after that, the feed cuts out.]

[[OOC: Joint accidental post! Either Edgeworth or Diarmuid may reply or threadjack.]]

croibhristeoir

I-if anyone has a moment, I'm having a small problem. [This was the understatement of the millennium.]

I'd like to ask how...h-how...er...forgive me, I am having some trouble articulating things today. [Diarmuid adjusted the glasses he wore, seeming hesitant to look directly at the camera at first.]

Imagine one that...has gone through life without anger or hatred. This individual had never felt spite, resentment, or even a shred of those kind of things. He did all he could to put others and their happiness before himself and his own, finding contentment and joy in doing so. But after a certain point, that person...he found someone that did something so deplorable that it left that person filled with rage and spite.

He found someone that he hated. And no matter how he tried, that person could not simply forgive what was done to earn that hatred.

I beg of you, Prospero. Someone please tell me how that person can go back to the way he was. Before he could feel anger and spite, back when he could still grant forgiveness.

[Diarmuid looked away for a moment; he was unsure, even worried.]

Fionn, Grainne-- [Gods, what would they think of him when they knew?] ...there is something I have not yet told you. Forgive me for not doing so until now.

Arturia... [Another pause. She had been there when he had died, she knew the horrible rage he had unleashed that day. Cursing her, Kayneth, Kiritsugu, even the Grail itself. Again he worried that she must secretly detest such a hateful spirit.] When you have the time...I would like to speak with you. Please.

croibhristeoir

[It was the purpose of a knight to fight and protect others. Diarmuid had long since taken it upon himself to spend the Dark Hour in the city every night almost without exception--what if someone was in danger out there? The fighting skill of one of the Fianna was valuable in this place, and he couldn't waste it. So he could be found on the streets nearly every night, fully armored and with both lances in hand.]

[However, being out every night at a quite literally ungodly hour and still functioning in the daylight hours was beginning to wear on him considerably. With so much on his mind, Diarmuid had completely neglected to take the usual night or two a week to stay inside and recover. As a result, he was slowly but surely beginning to look remarkably tired.]

[The video turned on when it was carelessly dropped in a chair sometime after the Dark Hour, showing a hotel room lit just enough that one could see the knight in bloodstained black and green, leaning heavily on a wall. It wasn't a serious injury--not life-threatening, at least. But the implications were far too clear; he'd made an obvious misstep in a fight due to his own exhaustion. A faint curse left him in a foreign language, frustration evident in the uncharacteristic scowl on his face.]

[He was a knight, therefore he had to keep going and fight for those who couldn't. But he was also a human now, and therefore he needed to remember his unfortunate limitations.]

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The Velvet Key

Entries tagged with lancer (diarmuid ua duibhne)

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⚔ 031; [action; dark hour of 9/24]

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⚔ 023; [action/video] dated to 4/27

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04: [Accidental Video, backdated to the afternoon of the 25th]

⚔ 016; [video]

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March 2013

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