☘ 011; [action; dated to 7/7]
[ooc: sorry for the spam, but kattu took a hiatus and i figured might as well get this up 8|a]
[introspection]
[Lancer had kept to himself since the incident on the fourth; though he had initially been sure his own language would be the last thing he'd forget, the former Servant was apparently mistaken. Which put a fatal flaw in the 'recorded memories written in Irish Gaelic' plan. Troublesome though it was, he'd spent his time making another copy that would hopefully be readable should his memories decide to fail him completely.]
[If Lancer was asked whether or not the near loss of everything that made him the knight and Servant that he was, he would have said no. And it would not, in fact, have been a lie. Fear was something completely foreign to Lancer, and even the risk of losing all that he knew didn't change that.]
[Quite the opposite, what he felt was annoyance and irritation. How dare Mayfield try to make him forget his name, his beloved homeland of Ulster, his wife, son, and brother--?!]
[But no, he wouldn't be angry. He wouldn't give Mayfield or whoever controlled it the satisfaction. Lancer was not someone who often allowed anger to rule over him; he knew what kind of stupid things he did when that happened.
[A; action; morning; outside/near 311 Miller Street]
[He'd risk running into Archer if it meant finding out what had happened to Rin since the fourth. Honestly, Lancer had expected to hear her shouting and complaining to him and the rest of the town over the phone--it was starting to concern him that things had been silent on her end.]
[The possibility had been in the back of his mind, sure, but he didn't honestly believe that she could have fallen completely. She was too tough and too stubborn for that...but then again, so was Bazett. Still he pushed the idea back, denying that it was even remotely possible.]
[Lancer had denied the idea up until the moment he saw Rin walk past him and inside her house. Wearing the wrong clothes. Smiling in a way that would never have looked right on Rin Tohsaka's face.]
[This was someone who had never felt fear in even one moment of his life, and here he was staring in near-horrified shock at the house which the blankly smiling girl had just walked into.]
[She couldn't--not like Bazett. He couldn't have failed another Master--!]
[B; action; afternoon; park]
[Whack. Whack. Whack.]
[Repeatedly his fists met the tree in front of him, each time hard enough to send a sharp pain from hand to shoulder--worthless, pathetic human body. If I was a Servant, I could have done something. I could have stopped this.]
['Could have'. Lancer hated that phrase, and silently cursed himself for thinking that. There was nothing that could be done about it now, so wondering about 'what could have happened' or 'what if something had been done differently' was useless. He'd thought as much for his whole life. Regret was a waste of time, he reminded himself as the repeated strikes to the tree caused blood to start slowly dripping to the ground.]
[I'm human. Whack. I didn't stop this. Whack. If she doesn't come back, as her Servant I'll take responsibility for it. Whack.]
[This is my fault and I will live with that.]
[CRACK.]
[Lancer froze at that, an electric pain shooting through his hand and arm. Slowly he drew his left hand back--cut open and seemingly broken.]
...tch. [He scowled, the only visible reaction to having broken one hand and damaged both to the point of bloodshed.] That's all it takes? ...too damn fragile.
[C; action; evening; Olney's Tavern]
[That same night would find Lancer behind the bar as always--though tonight was slightly different. Both his hands were bandaged, a splint on the first two fingers of his left. A lit cigarette hung out of his mouth, his third that hour.]
[He didn't speak much, a strange thing considering how difficult it usually was to get Lancer to shut up. Instead he spent most of his free time leaning on the wall behind the bar, arms crossed and a barely-hidden look of irritation on his face.]
[introspection]
[Lancer had kept to himself since the incident on the fourth; though he had initially been sure his own language would be the last thing he'd forget, the former Servant was apparently mistaken. Which put a fatal flaw in the 'recorded memories written in Irish Gaelic' plan. Troublesome though it was, he'd spent his time making another copy that would hopefully be readable should his memories decide to fail him completely.]
[If Lancer was asked whether or not the near loss of everything that made him the knight and Servant that he was, he would have said no. And it would not, in fact, have been a lie. Fear was something completely foreign to Lancer, and even the risk of losing all that he knew didn't change that.]
[Quite the opposite, what he felt was annoyance and irritation. How dare Mayfield try to make him forget his name, his beloved homeland of Ulster, his wife, son, and brother--?!]
[But no, he wouldn't be angry. He wouldn't give Mayfield or whoever controlled it the satisfaction. Lancer was not someone who often allowed anger to rule over him; he knew what kind of stupid things he did when that happened.
[A; action; morning; outside/near 311 Miller Street]
[He'd risk running into Archer if it meant finding out what had happened to Rin since the fourth. Honestly, Lancer had expected to hear her shouting and complaining to him and the rest of the town over the phone--it was starting to concern him that things had been silent on her end.]
[The possibility had been in the back of his mind, sure, but he didn't honestly believe that she could have fallen completely. She was too tough and too stubborn for that...but then again, so was Bazett. Still he pushed the idea back, denying that it was even remotely possible.]
[Lancer had denied the idea up until the moment he saw Rin walk past him and inside her house. Wearing the wrong clothes. Smiling in a way that would never have looked right on Rin Tohsaka's face.]
[This was someone who had never felt fear in even one moment of his life, and here he was staring in near-horrified shock at the house which the blankly smiling girl had just walked into.]
[She couldn't--not like Bazett. He couldn't have failed another Master--!]
[B; action; afternoon; park]
[Whack. Whack. Whack.]
[Repeatedly his fists met the tree in front of him, each time hard enough to send a sharp pain from hand to shoulder--worthless, pathetic human body. If I was a Servant, I could have done something. I could have stopped this.]
['Could have'. Lancer hated that phrase, and silently cursed himself for thinking that. There was nothing that could be done about it now, so wondering about 'what could have happened' or 'what if something had been done differently' was useless. He'd thought as much for his whole life. Regret was a waste of time, he reminded himself as the repeated strikes to the tree caused blood to start slowly dripping to the ground.]
[I'm human. Whack. I didn't stop this. Whack. If she doesn't come back, as her Servant I'll take responsibility for it. Whack.]
[This is my fault and I will live with that.]
[CRACK.]
[Lancer froze at that, an electric pain shooting through his hand and arm. Slowly he drew his left hand back--cut open and seemingly broken.]
...tch. [He scowled, the only visible reaction to having broken one hand and damaged both to the point of bloodshed.] That's all it takes? ...too damn fragile.
[C; action; evening; Olney's Tavern]
[That same night would find Lancer behind the bar as always--though tonight was slightly different. Both his hands were bandaged, a splint on the first two fingers of his left. A lit cigarette hung out of his mouth, his third that hour.]
[He didn't speak much, a strange thing considering how difficult it usually was to get Lancer to shut up. Instead he spent most of his free time leaning on the wall behind the bar, arms crossed and a barely-hidden look of irritation on his face.]