♛ refer to the list above for active muses. ♛ post "calling" one of them out — you can do so by putting their name in the subject line! ♛ can be informal/formal/comment spam/crosscanon/explicit/whatever tickles your fancy! ♛ feel free to make up a scenario at the start, or wait to see where things go.
Servant summoning was a mostly solved ritual. The right place, the right offering, the right boundaries and magical energies were all relatively common knowledge, at least between mages and would be Masters. To that end, when something goes wrong, or sideways, its usually something else getting involved. Something that decided that the rules, or the stage, needed an upheaval.
Yukari's ritual was perfect. So why was it then that nothing seemed to answer her summons? More importantly, why was it that just after the thoughts of failure and frustration began to set in, a loud commotion erupted from one of the adjacent rooms?
Very important and respectable questions, not the first of which would be ignored, disregarded, or outright mocked by the servant she had successfully summoned. There, sitting on a makeshift thrown of ruined furniture and room. Slouched in his seat like some sort of twisted king. Hat drawn down, an amber light at the end of his cigarette the only thing illuminating his face.
Until, that is, his master did appear. Where his golden eyes, which no darkness would ever obscure, would fall open her in equal parts malevolence and glee.
gimme dantes, you fool
That works for me. I brought the pasta :P
Yukari's ritual was perfect. So why was it then that nothing seemed to answer her summons? More importantly, why was it that just after the thoughts of failure and frustration began to set in, a loud commotion erupted from one of the adjacent rooms?
Very important and respectable questions, not the first of which would be ignored, disregarded, or outright mocked by the servant she had successfully summoned. There, sitting on a makeshift thrown of ruined furniture and room. Slouched in his seat like some sort of twisted king. Hat drawn down, an amber light at the end of his cigarette the only thing illuminating his face.
Until, that is, his master did appear. Where his golden eyes, which no darkness would ever obscure, would fall open her in equal parts malevolence and glee.