[ if the world has ended, then that was simply its fate. but the fact that the world has ended and karna is still here, while his master is not--
it isn't a simple matter to shock the demigod. he's been through a lot in his time, and he's seen and done things many people can't even dream of. but he feels lost and distressed beyond measure now. ten years. ten years he's spent at the boy's side, still in existence because of a wish that karna had neither asked for nor expected. he has served him, watched him grow to manhood, become companion and friend and--
it's gone. it's gone, he's gone, and karna remembers what despair feels like.
he stops suddenly, knees weak, a hand against the wall to support himself. he has spent a decade defined by his devotion to the young man he'd called his master. what is he supposed to do now, in this strange place surrounded by strange people? the thought of making another pact with a stranger is an unbearable thought.
this, though, is fate. he must continue to move forward, to find answers (and perhaps to join his master in death). so with a murmured prayer, he pushes back up off the wall-- and nearly runs into someone as he turns the corner. beneath the starched fabric of his shirt, the gem in his chest pulses dimly, low and crimson, and he lifts a hand to adjust his tie, obscuring the faint glow, pale blue eyes lowered in apology. ]
My apologies. I am somewhat.. lost. And newly arrived.
karna/lancer (au) | fate/apocrypha (zero) | anywhere!
it isn't a simple matter to shock the demigod. he's been through a lot in his time, and he's seen and done things many people can't even dream of. but he feels lost and distressed beyond measure now. ten years. ten years he's spent at the boy's side, still in existence because of a wish that karna had neither asked for nor expected. he has served him, watched him grow to manhood, become companion and friend and--
it's gone. it's gone, he's gone, and karna remembers what despair feels like.
he stops suddenly, knees weak, a hand against the wall to support himself. he has spent a decade defined by his devotion to the young man he'd called his master. what is he supposed to do now, in this strange place surrounded by strange people? the thought of making another pact with a stranger is an unbearable thought.
this, though, is fate. he must continue to move forward, to find answers (and perhaps to join his master in death). so with a murmured prayer, he pushes back up off the wall-- and nearly runs into someone as he turns the corner. beneath the starched fabric of his shirt, the gem in his chest pulses dimly, low and crimson, and he lifts a hand to adjust his tie, obscuring the faint glow, pale blue eyes lowered in apology. ]
My apologies. I am somewhat.. lost. And newly arrived.