[hr]
[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/GqjhPE9.png?1[/img][/center]
[sup][i]Montmarte - Sacre Coeur Basilica.[/i][/sup]
[sup][i]Minutes before sundown[/i][/sup]
[center][h1]Yazhu Hua[/h1][/center]
[sub][center]Mentions: Tristan ([@KoL])[/center][/sub]
[hr]
     
     Paris. The capital city of France. The city of love, and home of many cultural heritages. An ancient place, where every stone in the streets houses so many stories that it'd take decades to learn of what happened on an alleyway. And, most importantly, a land of such an unparalleled quality for a magus that anyone would do anything for the mere chance of holding it. Anything.
     
     Thinking in hindsight, it came to no surprise to Yazhu why her family did what they did. After all, what's a blot of blood in a family's deeds with such a reward in their sights? The Jins could even be blamed for being so careless and trusting of their subordinates with something as important as a shard of the Round Table. Generations upon generations of deceased magus must have settled on an amphitheater in the afterlife to welcome the arriving soul of the Master that never came to be with outstretched fingers and howling laughter. 
     
     Yet, it didn't sit right in any way. For her, the woman who was sent on behalf of a traitorous family simply because she was the most capable of them all, it was a stain that could never be erased and that she could do nothing about. She was roped in machinations and thrown into France with enough money to get by the following days, an apology as they had to do it all under the eyes of the Jins and a warning to stay away from the Foreign District, just in case. They may as well have given her a jacket lined with explosives.
     
     [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_u-ma94N3U4]The melancholic sound of a harp[/url] reached her ears from behind her. At least, she wasn't alone in this. Even if he was bound to her because of the nature of this war, knowing that she had one of the Knights of the Round Table protecting her was enough to calm her down. It was an odd situation, in hindsight, and Yazhu had to be honest with herself in that she didn't know what to do. This was the opposite of her life's work, and she was barely able to cope up with it.
     
     She hoped that Tristan hadn't noticed just how much his Master was a fish out of water. The summoning process on itself was, thankfully, without any sort of damage to her room thanks to the detailed instructions in the note from her father, and the shock from having a legendary hero in front of her wasn't as great as she thought it would've, but it was nevertheless impressive. After a long while composed of introductions and Yazhu asking questions to the Archer in order to fill the blanks her family had failed to inform her of, the chinese woman had declared that they'd set out to explore the city to know the ground they'd be treading better.
     
     That was what she had said at the moment, but there was an underlying reason for that request as well. Something that she was still trying to wrap her head around at this moment, and something that she couldn't get out of her mind as she experienced the french capital: She wasn't going to see this city the same way in the following days, or even for the rest of her life. This was her last chance to see the city with normal eyes, and take the sights it had to offer her. Tristan himself had a few suggestions as to where he wanted to go, and she was more than happy to oblige.
     
     And now, atop the central dome of the Sacre Coeur Basilica, the highest point that the building had to offer, they were both waiting for the night to arrive. The sun, a painfully slow pendullum of the impending doom and the unseen war that was about to sully the streets of Paris, slowly pulled the thin blanket of light that it had cast over the buildings hours ago, buildings that refused to yield to the darkness and lit sparks of orange amidst the sea of darkness. Tristan played a gentle tune as the minutes until the start of the war ticked down. They hadn't spoken much since they arrived: she was absorbing her new situation whilst looking at that picture in her wallet and he was playing his harp. But Yazhu had a pit inside of her chest that she wanted to share, something she had come to realize after all of today.
     
     [color=a187be]"To die and to be killed..."[/color] she spoke out to her red-haired compation, lifting her gaze from the face of her niece towards the last remains of sunlight and safety disappearing in the horizon. [color=a187be]"At first, they seemed like the same thing to me. But they're much more different than I thought. Before this, I could've died because I was meant to protect someone. Now, I'm gonna be killed because of who and what I am."[/color] Her gloved hands folded her wallet and placed into one of the pockets of the voluminous black coat she was wearing, her only protection from the cold winds of such a high place.
     
     The former bodyguard turned to face her Servant before making her request. [color=a187be]"It feels odd asking for this, but could you please protect me from that fate? There's someone I have to get back to later"[/color]. His answer came alongside the moonlight, prompting Yazhu to pull out a watch to check on the time. [color=a187be]"I'll be counting on you... Archer"[/color] she responded. The use of the term was necessary, but it left a bad taste in her mouth. It made him feel alien to her and, despite all, it reminded her of just how truly alone she was in this war. [color=a187be]"Lead the way, I'll be with you. At the very least, I'd like to be of use to you".[/color]