Rumi Fujou and Beatrice LaForet
"Got tired of hiding away, did we?"Rumi halted in her tracks, an imperceptibly slight smile creaking her lips upward. Not a happy one, by any means. Amused, perhaps. Or mocking. It depended on how one interpreted such.
She should have expected this. Of
course the will of whatever was fueling this Grail system just had to rope a ghost of her past in. Damn it all. Beatrice should be holed up in a bar somewhere in London, not face-to-face having this ridiculous confrontation.
“Oh, you’ll excuse me for not throwing myself headfirst into the situation, Enforcer LaForet. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being bulls in china shops.” Despite her words, Rumi surreptitiously slipped a Wraith-contracting talisman up from her sleeve into her palm. While she didn’t
think Beatrice would outright attack her, it never hurt to be sure. With only Assassin (spiritually) at her side, she was at a disadvantage without the majority of her resources present.
“Don’t try and be cute, Rumi. Dress it up however you want, we both know what we’re here for.” Beatrice noted the other woman’s grimace and the all-but-imperceivable way in which she prepped herself for their sudden confrontation to escalate into outright violence. Her glare softened briefly, memories surfacing in her mind: was this really what had become of them? Just becoming another part of what the other hated about the insane reality that surrounded them?
The thought hurt: though much like the fury glowing in her chest, it wasn’t anything that hadn’t already been festering inside of her for the better part of a decade. For now, if they were cutting past the bullshit, she had to pull herself together and consider the facts.
Considering Lancer’s not-long-past encounter, it wasn’t impossible Rumi was the mystery Servant’s Master. If so, with him seemingly nowhere in sight and them sheltered within the trees, she had good reason to be alert; but besides it being uncharacteristic for her to be out in the open without
some detail at hand, it seemed unlikely that Rumi would seek to instigate unless she drew first blood. Even if she put no stock in the armistice upon their grounds beyond how it could benefit her, she was smart enough to know not to start a fight on the Church’s doorstep unless her back was against the wall.
“Not sure what you’re hoping to get out of it, though.” She discreetly bid Lancer to stay quiet and concealed, a firm tug on their link conveying that, at least for the moment, she wasn’t willing to brook any objections.
“We both know the Einzberns’ cup is a total crock of shit.”“After what El-Melloi and Tohsaka imparted about the ritual? We both know that we’re here because it would drag us into the situation regardless of our wishes. I simply aim to see exactly what’s going on here.” Terse, succinct, and it even had the benefit of being true.
“I have no interest in achieving Heaven’s Feel or reaching for whatever poison pill this Grail would seek to grant. But merely having the Command Seals is a death mark. And even you aren’t quite so naive to believe that surrender would extricate us from the situation so easily.” Her smile still didn’t quite reach her eyes. Even back then, it was a rarity.
A mental command ordered Assassin to hold position for the moment. Evidently, the Enforcers hadn’t turned Beatrice into quite so much of a dog that she’d lash out yet. The spiteful part of Rumi’s mind supplied that, at least. A much quieter, barely noticed one only provided that it seemed time hadn’t done much of a number on the redhead.
“Let’s not have a redux of our last spat, Beatrice. Stay out of my way, and I’ll endeavour that we don’t cross paths more than we have to. Neither of us are working at ends here, and I’d hope we keep it as such.”
“Well, you’re half right. If I didn’t want to be here, I could have just picked up the finder’s fee and left the vultures to have at it.” Beatrice cracked a smile of her own as Rumi responded; and while hers also fell a little short of reaching her eyes, it was more than a little saw-toothed.
“Let the anoraks fight over the privilege of getting eaten alive in their first actual trip outside the workshop.”Well that morbidness aside, assuming her time with those walking corpses hadn’t dramatically bettered her chops as a liar, it seemed that Rumi hadn’t completely lost her mind. Her own circumstances were proof enough that getting marked by the Grail was a call that one couldn’t hope to fully shirk, as she’d colourfully outlined; and considering her own motivations, she couldn’t fault curiosity, healthy or otherwise.
In-between whatever truths the woman was speaking, however, there was a
characteristic avoidance of a definite answer to her question. Rumi was many things, but whimsical was rarely one of them. Her actions were weighed on a scale that considered how much it benefitted her power and status, and while it was all well and good to say she had little choice in participation now she’d been marked, the Grail rarely if ever directly chose those who didn’t have some insane aspiration they were reaching for.
She had something to gain by being here, that much Beatrice was sure of. And if she was as alert to their old teacher and classmates’ warnings of the rot festering within the Grail, the only real answer remaining was that she sought the prestige of fighting in a Grail War: and ultimately, the prestige of
winning.
“Anyway, don’t you go losing any sleep because of me.” Beatrice half-shrugged, shaking her head as she laughed mirthlessly.
“Believe it or not, I’m here for work as much as pleasure. As much as I’d love to jump right in and crack some skulls open, the anoraks have me sniffing around for whoever set this shitshow of a Grail up. Just tell your well-dressed friend to behave himself and you won’t have anything to worry about.”So she’d already seen Assassin, then. How? Assassin had in no way revealed himself…themselves at any point that could be linked to her. Well, as long as Beatrice wasn’t aware of his Class just yet, this wasn’t a real concern. They would still have words later, of course. But speaking of concerns…
“You threw yourself knowingly into a Grail War simply because of a
job?” Rumi sniffed scornfully, shaking her head. Of course.
Of course. It couldn’t ever be simple with her. There just had to be something to muddy the waters. “Those two back at the Clock Tower will be ever so glad to hear of such. You may even send Tohsaka into conniptions, down memory lane.”
“Well. Dismantle the Grail, and I’ll still come out ahead. So even though you hardly require anyone’s permission aside from whoever’s holding your leash, go ahead and run as freely as you wish, Enforcer dog. But do let me pass. I’d prefer to get the formalities with the Catholics over quickly.”
The fury in her chest welled up again, along with a handful of other emotions Beatrice quickly pushed back down before they could become anything more than a slight waver in her countenance. Part of her struggled to reconcile the domineering necromancer with the quiet, painfully timid young woman who’d been her first real friend at the Clock Tower; another felt a strange ache seeing her standing so confidently on her own two feet, for however much of her soul she’d sold piecemeal to achieve it.
… Things couldn’t go back to the way they were. And even if it were possible, now was hardly the time to get caught up in what could have been.
“Oh, believe me, I’ve had them taking it in turns to give me an earful.” Beatrice’s smile lingered for a moment, before it faded as she met Rumi’s scornful stare with renewed intensity.
“But I made my decision once, and I’ll make it again.”“I’ve wasted enough time already, and by the sound of it, so have you.” She took a step forward, watching for any sudden shifts in the other woman’s demeanour; and seeing her own composure hold steady, she took a second and another after that, before making to walk past her, keeping her eyes trained forwards even as she continued to speak.
“But a word of advice, before I go. A fight to the death is an entirely different beast than a knife in the back behind closed doors. You’d do well to remember that, if you really plan to make it to the end.”“Funny. By all accounts, Grail Wars are far more about closed door deals and ambushes than true deathmatches. Or have you learned absolutely nothing over the years? We are magi, Beatrice. There is nothing to be taken at face value.”
Rumi didn’t look back, instead starting to make her way towards the church. How…vexing that Beatrice had hardly changed in their time apart. Truly, the strong were privileged in how foolish they could afford to be.
“I’d say to try and stay alive, but the concessions I could wring from your clan for the safe return of your Crest would override any such sentiment. So…be useful, yes? Up until you get yourself needlessly killed, that is.”
But Beatrice was already gone, the outline of her figure swallowed up by the darkness of the wooded path out of the church grounds. In the distance, the sun continued to sink into the line of the horizon, and as the faint orange glow of the dying day yielded to the oncoming darkness, the lights of the cityscape came into stark relief.
The first night of the Sako Holy Grail War had arrived in earnest.
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