Johanna Faust
The German magus sat at the table, leafing through the messy pile of tourism leaflets and maps strewn around. Beside them sat a simple box, glass fused without any sign of human artifice around a pale blue crystal that insistently ran up against one of its sides. Apparently satisfied with what she had found, Johanna rose, pocketing the box and one of the leaflets. "Berserker, we'll be heading underground, using the tourist areas to get at the really old catacombs. Rider's Master won't be able to track us that way.
"That won't be any sort of problem for you, will it?"
Assassin
Dreaming of Assassin's past was something that belonged more to a Berserker. Though the connection was supposed to give some firmer understanding of the Servant's past, information that would allow one to piece together a hidden identity or secret motivations, this was still too much of a dreamscape. The buildings that towered above and crowded out the sky seemed to shift from one moment to the next; at one moment they were oppressive but harmless and the next a twisting nightmare; a building that could never have been physically built yet seemed full of demons.
The mist was everywhere, sometimes near and sometimes far, yet a grey pallor hung over everything, cloying and smoky. Featureless giants passed through the murk, the dream's qualities rendering them almost human yet distinctly not, clothes and decorations changing, shifting even as they were watched.
Ah, but finally there was one figure. A woman, impossibly beautiful, but--she was turning away? Why? How...
Mother couldn't leave--no--fear--hate--Everything was dyed in red.
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