Bazette Fraga McRemitz was, quite frankly, bewildered. First, her Servant had turned out to be British, and what could she have done to deserve that? Then said Servant had nearly skewered the priest who she had thought to be her ally (or at least neutral), as said priest was in the process of attempting to relieve her of arm, Command Seals, and oh yes, life, before leaving the Brathadóir alive and spiriting her off to her safe house (and how had he known where it was, anyway?).
And now she found herself unable to keep her eyes off him, as he puttered about her tiny flat, examining the tiny collection of keepsakes she permitted herself on the road. Or rather, if she was honest with herself, off the way his strangely modern green-and-black bodysuit molded itself to his lean, athletic, youthful frame (hey, couldn't blame a lonely girl for looking). The armored bits didn't detract at all from the overall picture. Although she found herself rather at a loss to explain the strange, two-tined lance he carried propped casually over one shoulder like a cricket bat.
"Who are ye, anyway?" she demanded, trying to regain some feeling of control.
"An old friend," he said softly, turning to look at her with eyes that somehow touched her in places she would never have admitted to having. "We've met before, you know. In other lifetimes. I've been looking for you for some time. In fact," his expression turned wry, "I had to thrash Cuchullain about the Throne for a bloody month before he admitted I had the better claim. Not to mention being better suited to what's coming." His expression turned dark. "Things aren't what they seem. We're going to need allies to face what's coming -- that's one reason I didn't kill that bastard. We can't afford to face his allies, yet."
She stared at him, baffled. "Ye're nae makin' a lick o'sense, boyo! Just my luck, to be havin' the Servant with a screw loose in 'is noggin!"
He actually looked nostalgic at that. "Don't worry, it'll all make sense soon. As long as you trust me." A blink, and he was standing far too close to her, and he was cupping her face with one hand (don't let him feel how hot I'm blushing), and then there was nothing in the universe but his sharp blue eyes, and his voice reciting
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh. I have been called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....
So... Yeah. DJ Croft as Lancer. "Lancer is suffering"? Hah! Just wait till he pulls out his "Prime" Noble Phantasm....
(And, yes -- Bazaette is Asuka's reincarnation. No, don't examine this too closely).
Oh, yeah, the Gilgamesh thing. I figure the Eternal Soldier has prior claim -- Goldenrod is just a pale reflection born out of garbled legends, a bit like the 5th war's Assassin. DJ's going to stomp Gilly for sullying his reputation....
And now she found herself unable to keep her eyes off him, as he puttered about her tiny flat, examining the tiny collection of keepsakes she permitted herself on the road. Or rather, if she was honest with herself, off the way his strangely modern green-and-black bodysuit molded itself to his lean, athletic, youthful frame (hey, couldn't blame a lonely girl for looking). The armored bits didn't detract at all from the overall picture. Although she found herself rather at a loss to explain the strange, two-tined lance he carried propped casually over one shoulder like a cricket bat.
"Who are ye, anyway?" she demanded, trying to regain some feeling of control.
"An old friend," he said softly, turning to look at her with eyes that somehow touched her in places she would never have admitted to having. "We've met before, you know. In other lifetimes. I've been looking for you for some time. In fact," his expression turned wry, "I had to thrash Cuchullain about the Throne for a bloody month before he admitted I had the better claim. Not to mention being better suited to what's coming." His expression turned dark. "Things aren't what they seem. We're going to need allies to face what's coming -- that's one reason I didn't kill that bastard. We can't afford to face his allies, yet."
She stared at him, baffled. "Ye're nae makin' a lick o'sense, boyo! Just my luck, to be havin' the Servant with a screw loose in 'is noggin!"
He actually looked nostalgic at that. "Don't worry, it'll all make sense soon. As long as you trust me." A blink, and he was standing far too close to her, and he was cupping her face with one hand (don't let him feel how hot I'm blushing), and then there was nothing in the universe but his sharp blue eyes, and his voice reciting
I have been Roland, Beowulf, Achilles, Gilgamesh. I have been called a hundred names and will be called a thousand more before the sun grows dim and cold....
So... Yeah. DJ Croft as Lancer. "Lancer is suffering"? Hah! Just wait till he pulls out his "Prime" Noble Phantasm....
(And, yes -- Bazaette is Asuka's reincarnation. No, don't examine this too closely).
Oh, yeah, the Gilgamesh thing. I figure the Eternal Soldier has prior claim -- Goldenrod is just a pale reflection born out of garbled legends, a bit like the 5th war's Assassin. DJ's going to stomp Gilly for sullying his reputation....