midsummerlies: (Annoyed)
Oberon V̴͍̄ò̴͍r̵̨̅t̶̥̂i̵̬̓g̶̩͋ę̸͆r̶̬̍n̷͕͘ ([personal profile] midsummerlies) wrote in [community profile] decorator 2024-04-10 08:30 am (UTC)

[ Fuck.

That, along with various other profanities, were flooding Oberon's mind. Despite the fact that nobody knows what the hell is going on in this scuffed Holy Grail War, someone really thought they'd try to get it going anyways, huh? He supposes he can't blame them, the general basis of the ritual is focused around the general rule of last-man-standing, that's how it's supposed to be... but understanding doesn't make him any less frustrated.

He supposes he should be grateful, at least, that his foolish woman of a Master remembered the Command Seals on her hand. Whether it was intentional or instinctual, Oberon found himself flung through space itself, directly to his Master's side.

At least all that time spent lazing around their apartment eating junk food all day hadn't diminished his combat abilities in the slightest. He's a Servant, after all, he doesn't even need to eat at all in the first place.

Still, they had been a tough challenger, especially considering the meager amount of mana Ai provided. She's not a broken faucet, at least, but she still wasn't a mage. They must have been an Assassin, too, seeing as how they took every opportunity to aim for his Master... meaning Oberon had to spend a good chunk of the fight defending her instead of moving in for the kill.

Y'know, now that he thinks about it, the odds really were stacked against them, huh? Yet he still managed to repel the Assassin. Low mana supply or not, he's still the Abyssal Wyrm. One should never underestimate him. In fact, if he hadn't been occupied with protecting his Master, he might've even had a few chances to go for the kill.

...but it's pointless to think about hypotheticals, isn't it? Because even though he fought his fucking ass off, he still failed. That skull-faced bastard seemed especially fond of using daggers, and despite his efforts, one went into his Master.

The fact that he had obstructed the Assassin's aim enough that the dirk went into her thigh instead of anything vital wasn't nearly as comforting as he would have liked. ]


Hah... hah...

[ Something must have snapped, because he started fighting much more intensely when that happened. Intensely enough that he heard the enemy click their tongue before vanishing, having deemed the risk of fighting him higher than the reward.

So here they are, Oberon jumping from rooftop to rooftop with his Master in his arms, blood running down her leg. It's even raining, which means the world must truly have it out for them tonight. During the fight, Oberon had been forced to carry Ai around for brief periods, usually either by tossing her over his shoulder or carrying her under his arm like a football. It was almost comical, he might have made fun of her for it later if they had come out unscathed.

Right now, though, shes in his arms... properly this time. Carefully in both arms, close to his chest, gripped so tight it might even hurt... though the stab wound in her thigh probably hurts far more than a tight grip right now. ]


Shit...! Shit!! You went out too far tonight, woman! Where the hell even am I!?

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