[Suzerain of Sheol]

A looming shadow in his master's wake, Pelles follows closely, taking care to keep watch for any threats that might present themselves. As they walk on, though, he finds himself pensive, curious even, about this woman who has summoned him to the world once more.

His hollow voice breaks the silence. "I would know, mistress, your thoughts on God." The manifest truth of the supreme, almighty judge of all creation seems a perfect topic through which to come to know her.

[Gallagher]

"Oh." There was a shift in the mana the longer they walked. It was slight, but as refreshing as Merlin's presence was. "Well." Refreshing, but not as comforting as Saber's presence, the shared mana, the mana that gave his servant purchase on the world, so close to his own, yet so completely different. "I had no idea the Holy Grail could talk, so I suppose I wouldn't say no." Where Merlin was the first opened window on the first warm day after winter, Saber was something close, something like family, that, instead of sweeping away the old mana, turned it anew. "I'd probably just be confused." Erik imagined that with these two servants, were he not in an unfamiliar country, with unfamiliar people speaking unfamiliar words, it might have felt like home.

[Salone]

Dawn broke across the city of Avignon, and light that would never warm the body of Rasputin. A wind blew across the rooftops, and once again carried the ash with it. Through bedrooms, across the sleeping forms of the unaware, across empty cafe tables and the old cobblestone walkways sparsely populated with the early risers of the city. It swept between legs and under foliage and flowers before moving upwards through the window of Leila.

Riding on the wind itself, a whisper carried its way across the room to her ear.

"It is done. I have laid the groundwork below the streets of Avignon itself. They shall pluck threads and ensnare themselves without ever realizing that they have been caught. Our lair spreads itself across over two thousand arshins of the city. Only the church and, for what I assume is a powerful master, the Papal Palace is left safe from our eyes."

[Quiet Man Cometh]

"I apologize. My tardiness has made us late." Once outside, Rider surveys the narrow streets winding their way through a cramped but pleasant enough city. He shades his eyes with one hand and looks up at the sky, where a few hot air balloons dot the blue. "Hmmmmmm..."

Another time...

Looking away from the expanse, he walks briskly around the side of the building and into a reasonably private alleyway. "Over here!"

Only a few seconds later, however, an engine revs strongly and Rider emerges from the alleyway astride a lightweight motorcycle. He smiles. "We should just catch up the rest of the party at the meeting place." He makes a few adjustments to the bike. "I'll drive, if you don't mind."

[Gallagher]

The last thing Luci wanted, after the struggle of getting outside and now with Mousse stopping every four steps to sniff at something she paid no mind to, was for the cold, worn voice of her servant to actually ask her a question. Clearly, she wasn't going to be allowed to get this over with and get back to bed that easily. "God?" she repeated, glancing over her shoulder at the tower of a man. "Ah non, I think of him as little as I hope he does of me."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"So much like the peers of the Table Round, though they dressed their perfidy in the mantle of pious service, all the while defaming grace with their every breath, hoping that providence would overlook them, in the last. I can assure you, though, my mistress, the eyes of God are blind to naught. Every last one of those sinners-in-arms now burns in the inferno everlasting. And that is just."

Pelles turns his dripping gaze from the impervious night -- now showing the promise of the coming dawn -- down to his Master. "You are not a young woman, Lucienne. This I can I see despite your glamours. I do not think I, myself, lived so long in my blighted stay upon this earth. Were I you, I would think of more God in my declining years."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Her Servant finds her seated near the window, her hair disheveled by sleep. Leila gazes across the expanse of the city from her high vantage; she can see the silhouette of the place he mentions framed against the breaking sun.

In a soft voice, she says to him, "Already, you bring us the advantage, with the war not even truly begun." The magus tilts her head, stifling the effort to turn and look at the Servant she cannot see. "I will be more vulnerable coming out of the summit than at any other point in this war. I wouldn't go at all, if not for the chance to learn of our enemies. I'll be relying on you, Rasputin."

She rises and begins to dress in her uniform. "I expect it will be chaos and Hell in the streets the instant Ruler sets us loose. We should do our best not to engage, it plays to our strength to let them winnow each other before we strike."

She buttons the last clasp on her blouse. "What are your thoughts, Caster?"

[Gallagher]

It was a lucky thing that Mousse had finally chosen a place to squat, as while Lancer droned, Luci had to stop, shut her eyes, and breathe deeply just to keep her frustration in check. It was much too early on a much too important day for her to go aggravating her servant or missing out on her all important rest. Lucienne looked at Pelles when he said her name, putting on what she hoped to be a patient expression. "Should we succeed, I'll have many years yet to acquaint myself with God. Perhaps I'll become as devout as I was as a girl, though that, as you've so kindly reminded me, was many years ago."

[Salone]

"Times have changed since I have walked the roads of the world. I think however, that this battle will not be fought upon the streets under the sun, but in alleys and dark corners. Trust no one. Accept no gifts. Befriend no stranger. All are enemies, no matter what they might call themselves."

The ash of Rasputin settled upon the floor, as the spirit of the Caster weighed on more information.

"I will need more time, but I believe part of my territory even invades the residence of some of the other...'Masters'. After today, I will know for sure. I will be waiting for you. So long as you remain within the influence of my territory, I will be there to protect you."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Wise words," the numerologist murmurs as she pins up her hair. "If the other masters are not fools, this summit will look like a clinic for the paranoid. I would have you call forth one of your familiars to accompany me, Rasputin. I trust your shrewd judgment more than my own when it comes to the appraisal of our enemies."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Pelles bows his head passing chagrin, scratching at a scab on his brow. "Ah, my mistress, pray forgive me. Are we not two fitting souls to be thus bonded together? Thou knowest of my life and deeds, my preeminent disgrace, perhaps I ought inquire of what roads have brought thee hence. I seeth who thou'rt now. I would know of the woman you once were, if you would fain to speak of such things."

[Poggio]

Her entrance into the physical was less ostentatious and paced along the walk that curved around the giant church. Close to the embankment, the pirate’s well trained eye caught a glimmer of something shiny riding the currently bobbing softly against the rocks. Grinning, Mary climbed down to fish out the treasure from the murky waters. She held the golden flask against the sun. She tucked the child’s treasure inside her jacket and sought to continue her investigation.

It troubled her, the power behind the stones, but worse was the mild surprise when the voice close to her spoke. Looking up the cliff she saw the petite, fairly colored person addressing her. The lady was one of them. Their class was cleverly masked by a blouse and animal skirt that gave way to the curves of a lady. Instinctively her lips curled into smile while her fingers itched for the hilt of her weapon.

The powerful parley paused her actions, and she climbed to level ground with the woman answering her question “not as fav'r'd as the sight bef're mine eyes M’lady”.

Although modern times dictated otherwise, mary was a gentleman. A gentleman never left a lady unescorted. She offered the woman her arm despite knowing how delicate the facade was. More words poured out of her lips as she rose“.T'whom do I owe th' hon’r of speakin' wit'?” And at last she arrived at the most important question. Something she did not know herself. Surely another powerful being pulled from the void of purgatory could answer. “ ‘N howye find bein’ alive once m're?”

[notDEADyet]

The twitch towards a weapon didn’t escape her sight, Embla was comfortable in the fact that the piece would stay the stranger’s hand hand. As confidant as she had been, when it was obvious there wasn’t about to be a battle she allowed herself to relax just a fraction, paying more attention to the stranger’s words than to her actions. It was so nice when people could get along and not murder one another for a few short hours.

Despite the heavy accented words the compliment was easy enough to pick up on, perhaps she was simply practiced in gathering compliments from strangers. She wouldn't think to hard on that. Oh, I like her very much. Her glance didn’t waver as she wanted to glance back towards the window, but her statement was obviously for the partner left in the church to destroy property.

The thought of turning down the offer of an arm didn’t cross her mind. She wouldn’t consider being so rude when there was no reason to be. “I believe most would call me Archer. And just what might I address you as?”

[Salone]

Isaac leaned against a wall, eyeing the church across the street. He had risen with the sun and was now taking his time studying the outside of the meeting place. He spoke under his breath to his Servant, hoping she could hear him, wherever she was.

"So we're supposed to go in and shake hands? Have a cup of tea and try to knock each other off? Like a 'Hello, me name is Isaac, I'm a limey bastard, lovely pantsuit, I want the cup more than you, now bugger off?' I don't get it. How are we supposed to leave without immediately killing each other in the streets? Maybe we leave at different times? No no, then some other bloke would just wait around and pop us one as we left. Why don't we just use...oh, what is that. The little blue 'S' thing on the computer. Skype! I use that to talk to me niece. We could all get on there, say hello, and then try to kill each other. Now that'd be fair."

He took a long drag from a cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs before breathing it back out. He gestured with the thing as he continued on.

"I just think the whole thing is very awkward. And all for what? A magic wish cup? Just how smart is this cup? Can it handle abstract concepts? Can it think? Does it have some sort of syntax handling? Is it gonna be a bastard and make your wish some awful version of what you wanted? I saw an American movie like that once. 'Bedazzled' I think it was. How about you? You get to watch movies when you're inside that cup?"

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Au contraire, ma chérie." Catherine's voice trills from the ledge above him, where she now sits perched, invisible to all eyes but those of her Master. "Until meeting you, I did not know of the Sangreal's part in my damnation. I thought, perhaps naively, that my many crimes -- against my fellow women, against Nature Herself, and against Almighty God -- had purchased me an eternity in perdition. Did not the vicars speak of divine retribution? I see now that Hell was merely the dream of my ignorant soul. I made it for myself, and it was not real. What I'll return to when this war ends, I cannot say."

La Voisin idly strokes the thorny neck of her pet demon, its jaggedly-sinuous body coiled around her legs. "As for what shall befall us here? Delicious chaos, you may be sure. I have your leave to unleash these hounds of Hell when the moment strikes, do I not, dear Master?"

[Salone]

"Right, right. Although if we can, let's keep the, er, civilian casualties to a minimum. They may have been just livestock to you, but there's no sense in them paying for our war now."

Isaac put the cigarette out, putting the half smoked dog end behind his ear. Hands now free, he produced a Curly Wurly candy bar from one of his many pockets and proceeded to open it. He looked upwards, eyeing the space where Catherine perched.

"Fancy a Curly Wurly? I don't know what your Hell was like, but I guarantee you that these are quite the opposite. It's chocolate. All girls love chocolate."

He winked slyly, fulfilling the obligatory role that every elderly man must take when dealing with women giving them attention.

"I wonder if that'll work in the war. Guess we'll find out, won't we?"