[center][h2][color=aa8585]Beatrice LaForet[/color] and [color=#94b8b8]Lancer[/color][/h2][hr][@The Otter][hr][/center]Compared to what was likely to be the norm for other parties present, Beatrice was used to operating at a distance from her workshop in pursuit of a target, to the point of developing her particular craft around the uncertainty that it brought. As such, their main base of operations laid outside its limits, with them venturing in during the day to investigate and gather intel before returning in the early hours of the morning to relative safety, to recount and recuperate. But a Grail War was no mere hunt, and so over the course of the week they had spent in Sako she and Lancer had secured a number of 'safehouses' around the city alongside searching for any trace of its mysterious organizers. 

Once they'd concluded their business at the church- both professional and [i]personal[/i]- they'd made quickly and quietly for the closest one to them, a bulkhead atop one of the buildings on the border between Sako's business and entertainment districts. An office belonging to a nationwide company with a mid-sized branch in the city, the signage on the front indicating to any passersby that it was closed for refurbishment and due to re-open in the fourth quarter of the year. The signage also alleged that any trespassers would be prosecuted: but even before they had a chance to read it, all but the most dedicated of thrillseekers or most bloody-minded of mages would find their gaze move straight past the building like water flowing around a stone, the Bounded Field set up within gently guiding the stream of their consciousness on to the next target.

Being that her security system hadn't sounded on the way over, it seemed none had permeated that ward thus far, and Beatrice only offered the little black screen in her hand one last glance to confirm the absence of any intruders or traps lying in wait for them before returning it to her coat pocket. She wasn't willing to rest easy just yet, but as things stood matters were still in their hands.

For once, Lancer had found himself having to make a point to catch up when Beatrice decided to take her leave from the area around the church. He had little expected his master to be so caught up with whatever confrontation had just occurred to so rile her, and he had to take pains to avoid the other master and whichever servant may be accompanying them himself; Beatrice in turn had taken a direct route away from the grounds as darkness began to settle over the city of Sako. After the short delay in catching up to her, he withheld comment for the time, waiting for them to come nearer to their destination.

Once they were near enough, however, and he had satisfied himself that they were not followed, he turned to Beatrice as she checked the status of her 'security system.' He had little fondness for it himself, but he was neither a magus nor was he familiar with the ins-and-outs of their modern society. Some things, however, transcended such conceits of era and status.

[color=#94b8b8]"You are troubled,"[/color] he stated plainly, with no preamble or warning. [color=#94b8b8]"I have yet to see you trouble yourself so about another master, these preparations aside; but then, it seems you did not expect to know any of them previously."[/color]

Beatrice had been conscious of the fact that Lancer would have something to say about their last [i]encounter[/i] on the Church grounds. The heavy silence had accompanied them along their route to the safe house had been a reflection of that, her portion  borne of a sudden necessity to ground herself and regain control of the situation before then, and his only seeming to entertain that until he no longer had to be concerned about interference from outside.

When he finally did so, her gaze remained focused on the entrance to their temporary base even as he rematerialized across from her, and a palpable tension still radiated over their link. But her breath remained still, and after a contemplative moment she slowly turned to look at him, the tension abating slightly as she absorbed his words.

[color=#aa8585]"I'm sorry."[/color] It came out quickly, hanging ambiguously in the air for a moment. She'd expected him to comment on what had happened, and had been readying herself mentally for whatever she'd have to say or do to stay in control. The way in which he finally chose to address it, however... it was at once welcome and something she was woefully unprepared to deal with. [color=#aa8585]"I'm sorry you had to see that, Lancer."[/color]

She took a deep breath. God, look at her, a hair's breadth from falling apart in front of the warrior whose eternal rest she'd thought to disturb to carry out this fool's errand alongside her. But the breath helped, as did his presence, despite everything, and so she continued. 

[color=#aa8585]"I expected I might see familiar faces. Even without anyone I knew from last time getting involved, and the Association carrying on like they're above it all, humans haven't changed much since your time: and despite everything, magi are hardly different."[/color] Tension yet lingered, but her voice was calm and steady, and she regarded Lancer seriously, something unspoken in both. [color=#aa8585]"The rat race turns the ambitious into fools or monsters, and when I came here it was fully anticipating having to deal with the ones I'd met on the road along the way. I think- I think I'd just hoped [i]she[/i] had more sense than to get involved."[/color]

Lancer was silent a moment longer, before shrugging. [color=#94b8b8]"Many have had that hope, or one like it,"[/color] he mused. [color=#94b8b8]"Your guilelessness in the face of such things may be endearing, but if she should cross our path again, let me be the one to address her. I did not need the link foisted upon us to see what that meeting brought out in you, and I would not have you risk reprisal or death in a second."[/color]

[color=#aa8585]"I truly hope it doesn't come to that."[/color] Though it stung a little to relent, Lancer wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment; a mage's guile was a language Beatrice had learned to speak over time, but it had always been a means to an end, something to close the gap with prey rather than a fluency she chose to stake her life upon. Even so, the implication of his words was painfully clear, even discounting what she knew of his story. [color=#aa8585]"But if I could be certain of it, we wouldn't be here right now."[/color]

Much like herself, Rumi was a person who had been forged by a less than ideal upbringing. Beatrice had never been treasured so much as [i]valued[/i], something her father kept in the back of his mind in the unthinkable event that his tireless drive to prove himself worthy of the Clock Tower's regard amounted to naught; Rumi hadn't even had that, treated from the moment she was born as an entirely disposable [i]resource[/i] that could be used to ensure an heir for a system that had long since lost its purpose. It had haunted every facet of her being, every silence a guessing game in which any wrong move would bring the world crashing down on her, every confrontation a foregone conclusion she could only hope to survive. It was what had drawn them together, the hatred Beatrice had for the dogma that had dictated their lives manifesting violently outwards to shelter her; but while that had cooled as she accepted what she was, Rumi seemed ever cursed to see the world as a binary where one was either strong or weak, where one could devour or be devoured. 

[color=#aa8585]"In the end, all we can do is stay the course."[/color] No good ruminating on it; she'd done her part to bring things to the present. Maybe if she could be strong now, neither of them would have to pay for her failings. [color=#aa8585]"Close the book before anyone else has to die for something that happened before they were born."[/color]

[color=#94b8b8]"Indeed. Duty leaves little room for sentiment."[/color] He reached out, squeezing her shoulder once. Whatever he thought of the spat he'd witnessed and how much it had obviously shaken her, he was at least glad that he wasn't given a pushover or a coward for a master. [color=#94b8b8]"Still—try not to bother yourself about her overmuch. There'll be more than just her for us to deal with before this work is done."[/color]

He turned back to the hideout they faced, for once unable to keep an expression of obvious distaste from his face. [color=#94b8b8]"Speaking of threats, though."[/color]

He glanced sideways at Beatrice. [color=#94b8b8]"Is all this [i]really[/i] necessary? It is important to have a secure position, certainly, but your choice of [i]guard...[/i]"[/color]

It was clear he used the term loosely.

[color=#aa8585]"You're right."[/color] Ultimately, even without Lancer's prodding, it was as Beatrice herself had surmised. A Grail War may have been a painfully literal representation of of the past being dragged back to haunt the present, but under the circumstances she didn't have the luxury of mithering over her own. Regardless of anything, Rumi had made her choices, as had she; as painful as the memories were, what was another week on top of the near decade she'd spent pondering what could have been? [color=#aa8585]"We still don't know who set this Grail up, or what they're hoping to get out of recreating a doomed ritual."[/color]

A small measure of tension returned to her body as Lancer placed his hand on her shoulder, her breath hitching in her chest; but it soon passed as she accepted the gesture as the awkward display of support that it was, breath coming unstuck.

It was strange. If it hadn't been for the circumstances of her entry into the war, she rather suspected she'd have never thought to summon the strange, unkempt and wild-haired giant of a man who she'd come to Sako with. But at the same time, she doubted she'd have felt as confident with a Knight of the Round Table or Demi-God of Antiquity at her beck and call than she did with this tall, grey and terrible hero of Ulster at her side. Fate truly was a curious thing.

[color=#aa8585]"Thank you, Lancer; but please don't worry about me."[/color] She offered him a smile, a brief and tired thing that seemed most unlike her regular expression. [color=#aa8585]"I chose to come here rather than hand your seals off to the Association, and I'll be damned if I let something like this stop us from doing what needs to be done."[/color]

... The moment was only somewhat undercut by his sudden and apparent trepidation at proceeding fully into their base.

[color=#aa8585]"Now now, I know they're not the most [i]elegant[/i] arrangements, but I'd have thought that would suit your taste."[/color] She took it as an invitation to slip back into their regular rhythm, which she gladly accepted; though her smile remained a touch softer than normal, less teasing and more gently knowing. [color=#aa8585]"Granted, I wanted them to be at least a [i]little[/i] unsettling, but I'd hardly have expected a quick job like them to trouble [i]you[/i]."[/color]

[color=#94b8b8]"You made them [i]talk,"[/i][/color] he reminded her, an accusative complaint buried in the faintest stress on the word. [color=#94b8b8]"In my day, I fought [i]beasts.[/i] I tested myself against other warriors, claimed and defended my own. That was fine, it was normal, even when Culann's dog fell into the warp-spasm and found himself a monster to rival any we faced down ourselves."[/color]

His face was as expressionless as always, though there may have been a [i]hint[/i] of wounded pride at the joke made at his expense.

[color=#94b8b8]"Never [i]once[/i] did I have to contend with an armour stand moving of its own will, or a talking [i]doll.[/i] You magi are perverse."[/color]

[color=#aa8585]"You're telling [i]me[/i]."[/color] Beatrice snorted with amusement at Lancer's guarded indignance, but shook her head before it grew beyond that, not wishing to twist the knife. Perhaps she was simply proving his point, but she'd accept it as acknowledgement that they were performing as intended.

Though, it seemed she didn't need the praise, whether open or veiled. As she felt something [i]vibrate[/i] in her coat pocket, it seemed one of them was about to be put to work. 

[color=#aa8585][i]"Oh-ho."[/i][/color] It was likely already an odd experience for Lancer, seeing Beatrice so muted and quiet: but her sudden transformation back was just as disorientating, the uncharacteristically soft smile twisting back into a dubious grin as she pulled the phone from her pocket once more and began leafing through the information splashed across its screen. [color=#aa8585]"Seems like Henson has an [i]unannounced visitor[/i]."[/color]

[color=#aa8585]"Let's head up, Lancer. Even if we can't be there in person, we can help [i]greet[/i] them all the same."[/color] She said, finally making to open the door to the building and begin the climb to their base. For at least a brief moment, Beatrice's concerns seemed far away; with a partner at her side and a target to pursue, the world was back into focus.

Lancer allowed himself the luxury of a small grunt of annoyance. [color=#94b8b8]"Aye. Let us be off to meet them, and that one I met back by the church should pray he isn't involved in some way."[/color]
[center][hr][h2]'Henson'[/h2][hr][@Raineh Daze][@VitaVitaAR][hr][/center]It was perhaps uncharitable of Asteriel to dismiss the bolthole as the work of an unremarkable mage; but in the absolute strictest of terms, it didn't seem inaccurate to what she was looking at.

The small workshop, if one could even stretch to call it that, seemed to have been set up in a storage unit at the edge of a park in Sako's residential area near to where it joined with the city's other districts, where it dipped away from the mountains as the land it had been built on slowly sloped towards the sea. Certainly a location chosen with some care, giving whoever had claimed it a decent view of goings-on across the city with or without the benefit of enhanced vision: but it certainly seemed to prize [i]function[/i] over style. The small building seemed to have been neglected for quite a while before any mages had set their sights on it, bricks worn down and coated in moss, weeds sprouting from the cracks in the concrete around it, and thin metal doors scarred and dented. The Bounded Field surrounding it seemed almost unnecessary in the face of that neglect, serving to push the attention of those whose gaze deigned to linger on it for more than a moment away. Whether it had any further functions had yet to be observed, but the overall impression was that it was a simple but well-constructed ward, capable of warding away interlopers of all means and makes, but not quite robust enough to deflect the attention of an Einzbern homunculus on the prowl.

Proceeding inside, it didn't seem like anything was forthcoming to attack her or Saber. A faint buzz as they stepped inside suggested that if whoever had set it up hadn't known they were coming, they did now; but as the moments dragged on, and the worst that came to greet them was a slight chill in the air, it didn't seem like they were in any immediate danger of reprisal. The easy conclusion (or perhaps [i]disappointing[/i], where Asteriel was concerned) was that their target simply wasn't here, and the two of them had happened upon the bolthole while they were in transit or detained elsewhere; a more cautious assumption might be that they were prudent enough to bide their time and wait for an opening rather than rush out to attack a potentially highly dangerous intruder.

The feeling of being [i]watched[/i] leant credence to the second of those, and if Asteriel and Saber were to attempt to return the unseen glare, it would pull their vision dead ahead: to the dilapidated building and the suddenly ajar door that seemed to swing eerily in the breeze, rusted hinges faintly creaking in tune with the buzz of static.