[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kaIjwAA.png[/img] Abe no Seimei Parc de la Villete, Canal District [@Froppy] [@KoL] [@floodtalon] [@ItMeGritty] [@DostHou][/center] [color=a187be]"What a load of busy work. Were the emperor a figure of importance still, this would surely be in their domain of work," [/color] Abe no Seimei sighed like something of a petulant child, watching as the unhinged Servant began their assault of a different Master-Servant duo from a pleasant park tree, resting his cheek on a palm, mask firmly in place. A safe distance was to be kept, as he did not need to be close to do what he needed to do. [color=a187be]"But alas, if I am to get what I desire... some work may be required, it is true,"[/color] he argued to himself, needing to convince himself that -- yes, it was in his best interest to deal with people acting like absolute baboons on his mountain. He would not make a decent king. With a lazy flick of his wrist and the barest bit of focus, burning petals heralded the summoning of one of his many tools -- a simple bit of decorated rice paper. If the evident Berserker and her elected opponent were going to make a mess of things, then he would need to behave as he did in Kyoto when dealing with similar, ruckusy matters. He would need to control the situation so that it did not become a situation. The inhuman sage held the ofuda aloft, a spike of magical energy signalling the awakening of the spell within. And unnecessarily -- out of raw ceremony and flare alone -- he began to speak the powerless words. [b][i][color=a187be]"Desire of the World, Love of the Seeker. Be blind not to harm. Numberless protection: Directionless Love-Stained Wisdom King, Aizen-Myōō."[/color][/i][/b] A token of respect to the spell itself, really. For a creature such as himself, the act of 'love' came as easily as breathing. The matter of 'charming' people was a simple one, as too was patronizing such a thing as he had. A wave washed through the area, slipping beneath clothes and into ears and hears. The compulsion to leave gripped them, wiping out consideration of anything else. Desire blanketed the area, and the people caved. It became their single driving idea, urging them to vacate and let the two Servants and Master inevitably fight. Some stumbled away, others ran as if their lives depended on it. And to top it off, they'd forget the past few minutes. Tends to happen when you completely lose yourself to something. All the while, the fox-eared Caster appraised the situation evenly. Clearly, the instigator of the potential mess before him was to bear the brunt of his aggression. “But still, what a boring response…” Seimei griped still, ear twitching. Entertainment was something he desired, and so the failure to provided brought him to a simple conclusion: Create his own. The Master of the brute, he decided, would pay for the act. The Servant would follow in time. Abe no Seimei reached out, a hand grasping an ephemeral strand beyond the veil of regular perception. In the distance, residing among the rubble of the building laid to waste by the brute’s charge, were fifteen lost souls. Slain in the blind rampage of a powerful, albeit senseless Servant and the command of a mundane, and also stupid, Master. Incompetency was to be punished. He saw them, the remnants of life and the dregs of spirit. Surprise, grief, regret. [i]‘Why now? Why today?’ ‘Why did this happen to me?’ ‘Someone, please, save me.’ ‘Someone, please, save my daughter.’ ‘I just want to live.’ ‘God, please help.’ ‘Anyone, please help.’ ‘Help.’ ‘Help.’ ‘Help.’[/i] So much crying from a mere fifteen, soon to be twenty-one by his reckoning. Even standing among the ruins of a town beset by oni did not have the same volume. The people of the era were far more attached to their lives, less accepting of a new beginning and ultimate finality. That was fine. The dying desperation of a single human was a loud thing indeed. A powerful fuel for one such as him, a medium between the living and departed. He gripped those feelings with the mastery of a sculptor -- the passion of death reshaped and reformed, harnessed. [color=a187be]“A light punishment, as far as I’m concerned. But most often do make mistakes,”[/color] he said disappointedly. So many mistakes in the world. A shame more could not follow in his lead. [color=a187be]“And to teach is to appreciate. Even a failure such as yourself deserves some kind of affection.”[/color] [color=a187be][b]“Dharmapala of Two Realms. Wrathful God Blessing: Penance.”[/b][/color] Grudge, converted into energy, converted into a curse. It did not come from himself, but from the dead. He was a mere facilitator, granting them the means to convert that feeling of passionate death into reality. The dead rose not in the physical world, but only in the world of the brute Servant’s Master. Some burned with anger, others damp with grief. Some merely rotted, others transformed. Even the soon-dead, their spirits already halfway, distended into horrific creatures of invisible unlife, neither alive nor dead, yet both. They lurched and lumbered towards her, the noises coming from their throats unearthly, but their message clear only to her. It was terror, communicated to her and resonating within, her very self becoming it. Incompetency was to be punished. The empathetic horror of those she killed would be hers -- but it was not an eternal curse, not one to burn her very soul away into the deep hours of her life. There was a condition of release, one which obliged her liberation from the coming hours, maybe even years, of torment: [b][i]‘Kill your Servant. Go home. You are much out of your league.’[/i][/b] Abe no Seimei sighed once more. [color=a187be]“I am too nice to the young ones.”[/color] Abe no Seimei would content himself to observe from then on, his physical body vanishing into motes in the rays of the sun.