Calvary

...

She sat on the beach with her friend. Sand had already dug itself into every part of her body, underwear, and dress, which she had just put back on. She didn't like the feeling of sand, but she also knew that the water washed it away, and so she could put up with it for long enough. Besides, she had been told that it was wrong for her to go around uncovered unless she was in the bathroom. More than that, she liked her dress very much. These 'fiori' were very pretty, and of all the things her previous friend asked her to do, replacing the brown, dying 'fiori' with fresh ones was always her favorite chore. Dresses were also very pretty on their own. Clothes were often so restrictive, but dresses were like having the wind wrapped around your body. For these reasons, she didn't mind the sand so much: it was worth being able to wear her favorite clothes.

And yet, her friend was panicking. She could understand why. There were lights and loud sounds over the hill, and she knew enough to know that bad things were happening there. But she still couldn't make sense of what she was doing.

Her stone fingers were pulling at her dress, objecting that she had put it on. She would then gesture wildly to the bag at their feet, and then to the open ocean. At each stop her mouth would flap open and closed, trying to say something, but no sound came out. Normally, she trusted her friend to lead her; she knew that she knew nothing, and it was only right and fair for one who knew nothing to be led by those who knew more. But, through the connection they shared, she could feel no knowledge there. She felt panic, she felt unease, and she felt this nagging darkness within her.

She turned her head in confusion, her eyes bent with concern.

Echo took a deep breath, grounding herself, and then leaned forward over the sand. With her stone finger she drew an arrow pointing towards the sea, and then looked back at her Master with pleading eyes.

She stared at the arrow. She remembered when they had fought against the girl and the boy. She remembered how poorly it went. She also remembered how well they had been treated since. She was far too innocent to understand that dark, nagging feeling, but she knew enough to know that it was darkness.

There was nothing she could say, she didn't know how to say it, and so she just shook her head.

Echo pursed her lips. She felt the emotions starting to mix and fight one another, but then get cut off with a twitch of her downward ears.

-boom-

Echo stood up and readied herself.

-boom-

Massiah followed her lead. What else was she supposed to do?

-

The rhythm broke. They both watched anxiously at the place where the sound had emerged from.

"Waaaagh!"

Darting from around the corner came the familiar, pudgy shape of Lancer, Pigsy. In his tiny arms, dangling precariously with her feet scraping against the pavement first and sand second, was a girl who neither of the women recognized; a girl covered in blood.

"Please!" Tears and snot streamed from his snout, and his face, too, was stained with blood clearly not his own, "Help me! Please say you can!"

He reached them and laid the girl in the sand as gingerly as he could. She was breathing, but it was shallow- very shallow.

Pigsy looked back and forth between them, his hands out and shaking.

"Well!? Can you help? Please say you can..."

Echo bit her lip.

Massiah shot her a look.

Echo looked back with cold eyes.

Massiah matched it.

She shook her head and, with a flash of bared teeth, Echo fell onto her knees atop the beach and began to gather sand in her indigo hands.

"Huh..."

Massiah crouched down and laid a gentle hand on the Servant's shoulder. He looked at her, afraid, but she kept her hand there. She and her friend could not speak with each other, but they could understand one another. Semantics would not interfere with their relationship, and she knew that her friend could be trusted at this moment.

Echo took the wet sand and shoved it onto the gaping gash in the girl's chest. She brushed the excess aside until the entire wound was filled with sand- already stained red.

The girl coughed weakly, beads of blood leaking out of her ruby lips.

Lancer laid both his small hands on her shoulder. He was as mute as the women in his company, each word blocked by a wall of silent tears; choking just to keep himself from sobbing.

Echo pressed her delicate yet firm hands into the sandy wound and a luminous, soft blue light emerged from her hands. The sand seemed to almost fall away, as if into an invisible hourglass, and a thick fog rolled in around them.

...

Aaron nearly fell over- catching himself on the railing of Rider's ship. All his energy was taken from him, and, although he had never been seasick himself, he imagined the feeling was very much like this: the nausea, the headache, the tiredness, the physical exhaustion; the overwhelming feeling that his body was against him.

"Damn-" He caught a bubble in his throat, "Please tell me we don't have to do that again."

"Couldst thou even bear another?"

"Probably not."

"Aye. A veritably drastic option. Prepare for it in any case."

"Wonderful."

"Oh-" He shifted upwards, straightening his back, "Our company comes quickly; be ready."

He turned to see, and soon heard a panicked and nasally voice wail, "No-no! It's okay! They're friendly!"

No sooner than he heard that did he notice the buildings, rolling hills, and dark sea come into focus as the fog cleared. There, to the left of the ship and only about ten feet beneath them, were Lancer, Pigsy, who had spoken not long before, a woman in a sundress, and a half-naked girl with impossibly smooth, indigo skin like a pebble in a stream. All three people were crouched over a bloodied body-

"Holy shit."

"Aye."

Rider wasted no more time; he vaulted over the ship's railing and rushed to Heping's side, crouching over her and examining her body with his eyes and hands. The girl beside him, whose hands glowed with blue light over the wounded Master's chest, kept a skeptical eye on him at all times.

"Thou art Assassin, aye?"

Her brow lowered further.

"If thou art healing yond Master of Lancer, 'twould be better that thee focus thine attention hither."

He placed a gentle finger on her exposed belly-button.

"Whilst the wound on her chest is grievous, 'tis the innards that are most in need of repair. Wouldst that be possible for thee to attend to?"

The furrowed brow disappeared in an instant, and she removed one hand to press down on Heping's abdomen. She coughed up blood in response. Fear replaced suspicion as she abandoned her half-completed healing on her chest and began shoveling sand onto the girl's midriff. Soon, her hands were creating that blue light again as that sand disappeared into the red-stained skin like water to a sponge.

In the meantime, the ship Aaron was on continued to descend before dissolving against the earth, and soon replacing the boards under his feet with the shoreline.

He saw lights flash in the distance, and, under him, Heping began to squirm as more drops of blood, each darker than the last, leaked from her lips.

"Rider. We should move."

"Aye. Assassin, couldst thou continue thine healing if I wast able to bring the sand along as well?"

Her eyes left her work briefly, then returned, and she nodded.

Rider nodded back and turned his attention to Lancer, "What of Saber and his Master?"

"Uhum-" Pigsy sniffled, "They can catch up... yeah."

"Art thou certain?" 

Although he wore a mask, the raised eyebrow could be heard in the air around them.

"Yeah! They'll be fine- I think."

Lugh raised a hand to his chin and grumbled, but Aaron had already made up his mind.

"Rider. We came here to get Lancer's Master to safety; that's our priority. We can worry about them once she's taken care of."

He stood up from his crouched position, "No time to argue. Brace yourselves!"

Rider adjusted his footing and cast one arm into the air. Under his feet, the sand moved and shifted as the shape of a longboat formed within it- its bow sticking up into the air at an angle so that the far end was buried in the beach. With the creaking of both metal and wood, the back half lifted gently out of the shoreline without jostling its passengers in any way but mentally.

Rider cast out his silver gauntlet, "Come, Master! We must away!"

He took the hand and planted his foot on the side of the ship.

"Don't have to tell me twice! Let's get the Hell outta here!"

...

Later,

Heping shot up, vomiting a cloud of blackened blood over herself and the sand and wood around her. Lancer, holding her by the shoulders, pushed her back down onto the sand to keep her flat. Around them was nothing but open air, the ship flying high above the ocean between the mainland and the island.

Rider and Aaron stood near the bow with crossed arms.

"I guess we got lucky there was someone with healing nearby."

"Aye. I may know first aid, but her healing magicks art beyond me."

"But why sand?"

"I doth know her kind. The lady is a spirit of the earth; of rock and hills. For her, there is little difference between a rock and living skin."

"That has to be the freakiest skin-graft I've ever heard of."

"And effective. If not for her, Heping would not survive."

"So, she's gonna be okay?"

"Twouldst depend on her and no one else. Still, her recovery may proceed without me. I shall go to Saber and his Master." 

He started off towards the other end of the ship.

"Hold on-" Aaron grabbed his metal arm, "What about us? You die and we fall into the ocean."

"Not true. The ship shall remain so long as it holds a passenger with sufficient circuitry, and that would be thyself, mine Master."

He let go, averting his eyes, "If you say so. I won't stop you."

"Many thanks- although," He turned back to the open sky, "Perhaps we should have trusted our new friends a tad more."

Aaron raised his head and saw what his Servant had just seen, a figure of gold and silver, flying towards them on platinum wings. The metal angel soared over the deck, turned upright in the air, and the wings and armor dissolved into something like water; starting white and then turning blue. As the liquid energy fell away, a young girl with blonde and blue hair was left suspended in the air. She leaned back as gravity established itself, and fell into the arms of a young man formed from the energy that fell away before. He wore a white, short-sleeved jacket with gold accents, black pants and boots, and his short, magenta hair was parted in the front.

He walked past Rider and Aaron, hardly paying attention to them, and lowered himself to sit against the railing, the girl still in his arms and apparently asleep.

His rose eyes looked between the Master and Servant.

"Thank you."

Aaron scoffed, "Save it. You guys did all the work; we're just on cleanup duty."

He turned to the girl in his arms, her head resting against his shoulder, "Everyone has a role to play. Let's call it even."

"Fair enough."

Rider strode towards the other side of the boat to help Lancer and Assassin in their first aid. Aaron leaned against the edge of the ship, looking out and wishing desperately for a cigarette.

"Are Archer and his Master dead?"

"Afraid not. What about Lancer's Master? Will she make it?"

"Dunno. We're doing all we can at least." He spat out into the air, watching the flehm disappear in the clouds below, "No deaths on either side, huh? Is that something to be ashamed of or proud of?"

"Proud. Definitely."

He smiled despite himself, "Yeah. You're right." He cast a curious glance, "Did you know that the Grail isn't what we're fighting for? Whoever wins this shit-show becomes a god. That mean anything to you?"

"... Not really. I think that may get us closer to our goal than a normal Grail would."

"Makes sense."

Eventually, Heping would stop her convulsions and slip into a restful sleep. The group continued on peacefully, and Chrysaor never rose from his seat. He was sure to stay on the far end of the boat because he knew how much his friend hated it when sand got stuck in her clothes.

...