[b]Servant[/b]

With the conclusion of the ritual, the summoning circle lit in a blaze of light, a white flash growing to encompass the present room. A clarion call was sent across time and space, aimed at the Throne of Heroes and those who resided there, to draw in a Spirit to fight in that most noble of battles, the Holy Grail War. And, as Mai had hoped, something answered. 

A woman would emerge then, materializing from the aether and the realm of spirits. She was tall, clas in a long black dress that went down almost to her ankles, accentuated by a blue top, a green bow, and black gloves that covered her hands and lower arms, revealing almost a minimum of skin. As for herself, she was pale, an unearthly white that seemed as though it should belong to no human. Her hair was relatively short, except for three long braids which fell past her shoulders, and sported green intertwining with normal brown. 

She appeared in the circle in what almost seemed like a position of dance, a hand on her hip, an arm pulled across her chest, and her right foot positioned in front of her left on black heels. She was calm, almost taciturn, as the ritual came to a close, with the spirit fully manifested. 

The Servant looked around the room then before focusing on the one being present, a woman on the floor in a skirt and button down shirt. Still, she did not frown or scowl, instead looking down at the girl before it. "Well then, you are the one who is to be my master?" There was a tone of disbelief in that, for it was real. This pitiful human could hardly compare to her previous master. But if she had to fight, as the knowledge imparted by the Grail said that she must, then she would. 

[hr]
[b]Master[/b]

Alistair winced for a moment at the harsh shriek that emanated from the circle, and he took a step back at the quite visual display that took place before him. This was...this was beyond unexpected, and certainly not what he would have assumed would happen with a normal summoning. Yet he had no basis for that, and had to assume that he was doing something right. It would not have happened otherwise. 

The woman seemed to rest on a larger hand, with blood red eyes, a veil on black hair, with a dress and spider lilies in her hair to go with it. Then she leaned forward and spoke to him, with what she had to say as the rite of all Servants. Yet he couldn't stop his mind, some primal fear or long forgotten history from his Russian heritage, to scream of 'danger', to warn of this servant and what would come of her. 

But Alistair had no choice. There were no do overs, and so he would have to accept what he had.

So he nodded, taking a step forward as he banished his fear. This had to be done, one way or another. "I am," he confirmed, taking off his glove and presenting her with the glowing red lines of the Command Seals that had been emblazoned on his wrist, indicating his status." 

Her tone was ignored for now as he went on. "May I ask whom it is that I have the honor of addressing?" Without a catalyst, there was no way to know for certain. As it stood, either actual name or class name would do. What he needed was information, to begin planning and preparing, and he would have it.