the hope that I couldn't protect with my own hands; (CLOSED)

[ex_cashcow493]

WHO: caliburns and madlikegravity
WHEN: August 13: the Dark Hour
WHERE: A dark alley. Where else?
SUMMARY: Saber is on patrol for shady individuals like a certain murderer. She may get jumped.
RATING: PG-13/R for language, violence, and well.. just look at the characters involved.
WARNINGS: Will add if/when necessary.

Majestic clicking of metal greaves against pavement was the only sound this King of Knights heard in this part of Prospero, doing her usual patrol. Having been out for a few hours already, there was still no sign of the crazed maniac she spoke briefly with prior. A frustration if anything, because permitting him to run rampant meant the lives of many more may fall.

Yet, something disturbed her thoughts as she continues to think on it. The murder from before.. this must have been unrelated. Does this mean there were now two murderers in this city? It was becoming too much for this woman.. girl.. man. Thirty seasons of life under her belt, fifteen years of stunted growth, and a brief period throughout the century to do battle. In her current gown, she could be mistaken for a teenager boy without a bit of facial hair or to those with really keen eyes, a little girl. The only thing intimidating about her may be the sword she carried at her waist.

A pause to pull out her phone, giving it a simple glance over. That time already, was it? She considers for a moment calling Lancer or Garviel to assist her, thumb tracing along the buttons.

Comments

[ex_cashcow493]

Calm and collective, despite the situation, Saber doesn't even allow him the pleasure of a pounding heart. Oh no, no, no. While she's dealt with her fair share of men with chaotic intent (Archer primarily, the "mud" of corruption from the Holy Grail quite the frightening experience), there hasn't been one who's gotten as close and personal as this man.

A shield to deflect, a blade to counter with. Ah, there's nothing like that in her possession nor in this position. So she'll rest there in wait.

"Did I not tell you to run and hide?"

[madlikegravity.livejournal.com]

Oh. It's dark, but now that she's spoken, he recognizes her. The little girl scout from the phone earlier this afternoon.

"Mighta," he snickers. "I wasn't... I wasn't really paying too much attention."

[ex_cashcow493]

"You ought to have been."

Saber's reply was smooth as her mind quickly evaluates the current situation. He didn't seem stable (a reminder of another in this town that she is adept at handling) and so caution will be maintained.

"Forgive my manners. It seems I forgot to inquire of your name when we lost spoke." A bit distracted with the dead people and not the cake. "Well, what is it?"

[madlikegravity.livejournal.com]

"Funny thing," he sneers. "I don't really have one. People call me Joker." His body shakes with a few peals of laughter, cold and harsh. The knife draws ever nearer to Saber's throat. "You got a name, kiddo?"

[ex_cashcow493]

"Jesters are meant to make one laugh. You hardly do anything of the sort."

Her name. Which one should he give him? Her real name? No, Arturia was reserved for the rare few. Her mythological name? She would be the funny one in telling him that she was King Arthur.

Instead she settles on her title.

"Saber."

[madlikegravity.livejournal.com]

"Yeah?" He snorts with derisive laughter. "Well, uh... maybe you just don't get it. Hmm? Y'see, ah... Saber. Comedy is a---is a fine art. But you're always gonna get stuck with hecklers. Y'know? People who just... don't. Get. The joke."

It's at this point that the knife dances even closer to her throat.

[ex_cashcow493]

Don't get it?

Maybe she didn't get it. That wouldn't be too far off from the truth. To understand the mind of someone who was touched in the head (so she assumes) would be a crime for her. Such sacrifices were something she's incapable of making, even with a country that forsaken her.

That knife was starting to set her on edge though. A mortal body that constantly reprimands her to take better care of it. Her heart may not race, but the thoughts in her mind were running circles enough to make up for it.

"There is no humor in what you do."