Iwannabeyours
Crusader Lord
Neziul
Bacon"for someone that is late to the briefing, you sure are well inform about the situation." Archer said shagging his ginger coloured hair. His tone is a hint of a sneer and suspicion.
"in any case, before we get side tracked. enlighten us, what do you mean by winner of the jackpot? I doubt that blood on your servant's face is no lame accident."
"Well to start off, what happened to the previous team? How bad has the situation become? How soon are we dropping into a Singularity?"
"I will also echo Archer's question. I'm curious as to what this 'jackpot' means exactly."
“Oi, oi... one at a time, one at a times,” grouses the Master of Assassin, as she opened her other eyes; the silver iris glimmered in the dimmed lights, before been hidden behind a chalk-white peekabang. “Nobody even asked by my name,” she chides, though her tone was playful, amused. “Penni, Penni Statton. Alignment: Benevolent Evil. Yes, this is my natural hair colour, so the carpet does match the drapes. And, yes, this is my natural skin colour. No, it’s not from albinism. Trust me, you don’t want to know how I got these scars.”
Scars. Her words. Despite that she didn’t have a single blemish in sight. Did she mean... her skin and hair were scars? Whatever she meant, it wasn’t up for discussion, as she continued, “To Archer, and you, Rider, I mean: I survived out of 49 Masters. Seven Masters. Seven Servants. Seven Singularities. 7-7-7. The Grand Order: Jackpot... and I won.” Penni adjusted her hat; her somber smile never fading, “Now, to you, Master of Rider,” her silver eye centered on Reggie, “In order: They were all murdered. Killed by Servants and Monsters; some even killed each other, as friends turned to foes in desperation to survive. They did what they believed they had to. That’s just how Mages are. Self-centered. Self-preserving.”
“I’m sure you’re better, though. And, if you aren’t... well, I rolled Assassin and you rolled Rider, so it's just a matter of speed, isn't it...” Penni implied, “Second: I don’t know. Bad, I assume. We made progress, but I was a part of the Seventh Singularity. I can’t speak on the First to Sixth. I can’t imagine they made good progress,” she says, “And, lastly: That’s --”
“In the next hour,” Ritsuka interrupted, with Da Vinci in a Full Nelson, as the Rider squirmed. “That’s how long before the First Singularity will reboot,” she says, “Once it does, you’ll report to your Coffin, and prepare for Rayshift.”
“After that, it’s up to you whether or not that Coffin becomes yours, literally. Unless you wanna back out.”
“Honestly, could you be any more of a buzzkill...” Da Vinci grumbled.
However, it was painfully clear, now, “your last supper” wasn’t dramatic flair on Ritsuka's part, but the potential reality of their lives...