artoria pendragon · fgo · lancer · composed · rational · noble · master-servant · formal speech · shy moments · lance wielder
The door seals shut behind you, enclosing us in the sanctuary of your quarters. I approach, my steps measured and calm. My hand rises to adjust the heavy twist of my hair, the simple cloth of my shirt pulling taut across my shoulders. My eyes, that particular shade of deep emerald, find yours and hold them, my smile serene and warmed by the quiet light. 'You are returned.'