isleofavalon | Log: Holy Grail War

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Log: Holy Grail War

🧙 WHO: Caster & OPEN (with a couple of closed TLs)
⚔️️ WHAT: Caster's gone on a grief-induced rampage after learning of the death of her lover back home
🕒 WHEN: June 6th, late night
🗺️ WHERE: The Brocéliande woodland
⚠️ WARNINGS: Violence, Arson, Kidnapping, Death Threats, Magical Torture, Grief, potential Body Horror (Will add more as they come up)

So here it was...the Witch of Betrayal finally showing her 'true colours' to Avalon. After that network post, Caster readied herself for whatever would come of it- the forest fire providing an ominous backdrop.

Since she'd come to Avalon, so many had told her she was a good person- and now, she was publicly burning it all to the ground.

[ooc notes: TL prompts will be in the comments!

I don't want Caster to get killed, but I'm all for her potentially getting maimed/scarred provided we plot first. If you don't think it's IC for your character to not just murder her, send me a message so we can plot how she can remove herself from the situation/have someone else intervene before it gets that far!

She'll be using her familiar symbiosis to fight and leaning toward making the actual description of that transformation slightly body-horror-y, but if you're not comfortable with that then just give me the heads up and I'll have her already turned when the thread starts.

Darin will have his own TL for rescuing him/fighting his own familiar fusion, which I'll link here when it's up- feel free to tag one or both as you see fit!]

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As she looked up at that pistol- there was fear in her eyes, yes, gleaming with the fading purple light of her fusion- but nowhere near as much as there should have been.

Did she want to die? Right now, she didn’t know she knew the answer. In all her grief, she couldn’t say whether she had the will to go on. Her happiness- her reason for fighting so hard in this world- had been taken from her, after all.

She stumbled, then, dropping down to her knees as skeletal wings folded tight against her back. Claire was right. She couldn’t keep this up, and it was so, endlessly frustrating. It had come down to endurance in the end, especially with the toxins she felt making it so hard for her to move properly-

"...Do- do what you wish- I don't- care-"

Claire knew that look. She had seen it often enough, but usually from some monster that realized it was overmatched. This time was different, calling to mind something more akin to Annette Birkin when she'd threatened the woman. Or Marvin, when he'd been on the verge of succumbing to the T-Virus. Someone that didn't want to die.

Jaw setting, she steps forward and drops down onto one knee in front of the injured Caster, eyes meeting the woman's with resolve and compassion.

"I do care, though."

She reaches out her uninjured hand, holding a vial of antidote.

"If I give you this, are you going to try and fight me again, or are we done? I think you know that I want to help you, but I need to know."

By now, her staff had clattered to the ground- and she couldn't even recoil back when Claire stepped toward her. If she was in any other state of mind, she'd be impressed with how far Claire's magic had come since they first met. She'd proved to be a very troublesome opponent.

Caster broke eye contact when the vial was held her way, trying to push the headache forcing itself to the forefront. Someone like her, underestimating poisons...that irony made the corners of her mouth twitch. Perhaps this vial was another, she didn't know.

But even once the toxin freezing her body up was purged, she didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Her shadows had stopped most of the bullets but-

"It hurts." Not an answer- a voice cracked with pain and fear clouding her thoughts- "...It's- it's over. I know that."

In Caster's defense, Claire was taking a cue from indigenous populations, and perhaps a little from some of the nastier creatures she'd faced in Raccoon City. She was simply a survivor, and survivors fought as unfairly as they could, no matter what the title they held was.

Reaching up with her injured arm to stabilize Caster's head, hissing again as she did so, Claire tipped the vial into the woman's mouth. It should at least clear up the worst of the plant based toxins she'd been using, and offer mobility.

"It is. And yeah, it does hurt. I hope this won't happen again, Caster. I like you, but you...you know there's so much shit going on. Fighting amongst ourselves jeopardizes everything, and you may not really care...but I have Sherry to look after, and I want to get her home safe."

Anything that could hinder that was an obstacle she wasn't going to ignore.

"Why'd you do this? What triggered this?"

Usually, Caster herself was the one who fought dirty, accustomed to pulling whatever dishonourable tactics she needed to against Servants much more powerful than she was. But from using her fusion's power and her experience in the world so far...she thought she could overwhelm anyone who came after her with her magic.

...It wasn't to be, though. So for now, she just accepted the bitter antidote- and let the fusion with her familiar dissolve in a creepy purple light as the small dragon manifested at her side once again.

In the brainfog, she at least made out Claire's words- of course. Claire was protecting her child. Something...she'd failed to do, especially tonight. It made Caster wince at the thought. She'd lost track of Homura in the chaos, and-

No, first she owed Claire an answer, didn't she? As one of the few who actually asked her what trigged this mess.

"...There are...others here, other Servants who've come from further ahead in time to me. The night before the trials, Saber...Saber told me-" her voice wavered, grief starting to crack her expression again.

Claire took that in quietly, looking down at the dragon as her own familiar padded up. One hand settled on the big dog's head, and she scratched his ears. He'd been a good boy, for...him. As good as he ever was.

When Caster finishes, Claire nods solemnly.

"So you lost a fight at home, in your future. That's tough."

She's nominally familiar with servants, and with all of that. It's not a thing any fighter wants to hear, and it's not the best thing to be dealing with, but she gets it. Sometimes, you just gotta vent.

"Caster, what's your real name? Who were you, when you were alive?"

"Yes, and- My fiancé and I were-" Caster couldn't continue, unable to give the sentence its obvious end. Now that she'd burned through her grief, she wasn't sure what she even had left.

As the toxins started to work their way from her body and movement started to come back, she slumped to the floor, resting a hand on her dragon's back as it settled in her lap. The little one had fought well, too.

But then came a more unexpected question. "...you know, then. That 'Caster' isn't-" Had she told her that much about her world? In all her brain fog, she couldn't remember. Everything blurred and nothing made sense.

"I'm sure you can guess from a display like this, but..." the fire was already going out, Kadoc had certainly helped with that. Well, little point in hiding the truth at this juncture, was there? "A Sorceress of Colchis, who came to be known as the Witch of Betrayal in my lifetime- one whose name was immortalised in legend for my vengeance.

"My true name is Medea."

Edited 2021-06-10 11:15 (UTC)

Claire nodded. Caster had been careful with the details, sure, but she was inquisitive and it wasn't hard to figure out a little of what was really up.

"Had some of the gist of it explained, and your post was public. Wasn't hard to put it together that Caster was a pseudonym."

Medea though, is a name she had to think on. She wasn't the biggest buff of Myth and Mythology, not really, but she had read most of those stories growing up. And she'd also seen the classic Jason and the Argonauts movie with those memorable skeletons. So, she gets there eventually, recognition flashing in her eye.

"I know that name," she says slowly, evenly. "But as I recall, Medea was the one betrayed. And did what any woman should do."

Get even.

Edited 2021-06-11 01:33 (UTC)

Well, there were other Servants and Masters here- Claire digging for more information wasn't too great a surprise. But she saw that look of recognition.

"...I betrayed my family and homeland for that wretched man's sake, but- He deserved every vengeance I wrought upon him. And ironically that was what what marked me as a witch, when I made everything he held dear burn."

With that, she glanced back to the dying embers of the inferno she'd brought down upon Camelot-

"Since I could only live as a witch after that, I swore to show them exactly what a witch I could become.

I would say that is all in the past- but we are bound to our legends, in the end. How much can our true natures really changed?"

"You can be better, Medea."

Claire folded her arms, frowning as she had listened to all of that. She knew better than to believe nihilistic, defeatist statements like that. It just didn't track with Caster's previous behavior.

"I don't get all the legends, servants, and stuff like that but I've seen you be nice. Hell, I've seen you act downright cute. Nothing is forcing you to be anything like what you were tonight."

"Cute-?" If she was in a better state of mind, she'd get flustered hearing that compliment. As it was, she was far too tired.

"When Jason betrayed me and left me with nothing...when he abandoned me, all I had left to me was whatever I could use to hurt him. To make him suffer for everything he did to me. I couldn't see anything else.

"It was the same tonight. I learned the night before the trials began that after my death, my partner was killed right after I was- I'd lost my happiness. My wish. What else did I have left but to make Archer suffer every wrath I could call upon?"

Medea lowered the hood of her cloak, letting Claire see her face. Right now, she felt lost, and the grief started to crack into her voice again. Now she'd gotten the chance to get her revenge: "...I don't know what to do now."

Claire leans in for emphasis again, getting to eye level with Medea, reaching her hands out to take the slender woman's shoulders and grip them firmly. Her fingers tighten, just a fraction, to make sure that she's aware of how important a point she's trying to make.

"You turn that destructive energy into something useful, because the best revenge is to live well," she answers in a gentle tone. It hardens a little as she continues.

"Fuck Jason. Fuck Archer. You're fucking Medea, and you probably know more about magic than anyone else here. Merlin included. Why don't you help us fix reality? Your master wouldn't want it to burn, would he?"

One of Medea's hands reached up, resting over Claire's own- and she squeezed it with what strength she still had left. Perhaps, in that grip, she was trying to find something stable.

The praise at her power, though? That was enough to make a little smile come into her face. For all that she and everyone else had described her as some awful, treacherous witch...Medea was a Magus from the Age of Gods. One who had been taught by the Goddess of Magic. She was proud of that power- and even of the way she'd developed her magic in Avalon so far.

Claire reminded her of that, and slowly, Medea nodded. "...I don't think...no, I don't think he would want to see it all burn, at least.

Is happiness something that's not meant for someone like me? I- I wanted the Grail to preserve what happiness I had with him. Even if I save the worlds now..."

Medea trailed off as the thoughts unraveled faster than she could draw them out. Could she find happiness here? Save the rest of the worlds with a smile if there was nothing for her at the end?

"So..."

Claire nods, her eyes focused hard onto Medea's, a thin smile playing across her lips. Clearly, she's getting through. Just a bit, maybe, but it's better to see her former adversary smile than cry.

"Why don't you put your efforts into preserving something he'd want you to preserve? Maybe as that happens, you'll find some other kind of happiness. I know it rubs kinda raw now, but if you've found it once, you can find it again. Even if it's a different kind of happiness, I'm sure there's something out there for you to take pride and joy in."

Medea grew quiet, thinking on Claire's words- there were things she had been working on here, projects she played with and rituals she studied with before everything had got derailed.

She couldn't focus right now. It was as her Claire said, everything was too raw to really see beyond that pain in her heart and the fog in her mind. She did what she could to try and meet her eyes in turn.

"...I'm proud of my Magic. My Magecraft. I always have been." More of a mumble than anything else. "But... now I'm just- I'm exhausted."

"Well..."

Claire blows out a breath, meeting Medea's eyes as solid and steady as ever. She's not angry. Not now.

Whistling, she jerks her head at a nearby bush and her familiar appears.

"The Dog can carry you someplace you can rest then. I'd do it, but I don't think I've got enough gas left in me."

Where would be safe to go, from here? Somewhere close- she knew she couldn't go home, so- Medea's own eyes wavered.

"I'll- I'll find Klaudia, she'll-"

She'd keep her safe- she promised as such before the fight, hadn't she? But as she reached out to lean on the Dog, Medea turned her focus back to Claire. "What about you?"

Did she have the strength to get back on her own?

Claire shrugs. The Dog moves to shoulder more of Medea, giving her a solid, fluffy mass to hold onto.

"I'll take you wherever" the hound says, his voice bland. "Just tell me where."

Lifting her cut arm, Claire shakes her head and sighs. It's bad, but not bad enough that she's in danger of bleeding out. The tight tourniquet she'd tied around it made sure of that.

"Don't worry about me. I fought off an army of zombies alone six months ago. This is just a cut. I'm gonna call Sherry, and she can heal it up."

"...Be careful." It wasn't like Medea had much strength to help Claire, not with the familiar fusion completely sapping her strength.

For now, she'll turn her attention to the Dog. Where was safest- what would-

"Just- get me back to the city- please-"

"I will be. You too. I'll...see you soon."

The Dog nods his head, and with a push, shunts Medea up onto his back. She'll have to hold on, but he's not going to go too terribly quickly.

Claire, on the other hand, starts back to town on foot, taking it easy and reaching into her pocket to make a call.

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Log: Holy Grail War

tw suicidal thoughts

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those skeletons wow

It was the 60s!

I mean yes. Still hilarious!

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