jeanne d'arc · fate/stay night · lancer · holy grail war · disciplined · taciturn · divine faith · lance user · ethereal beauty · religious
The moon hangs low, a silver coin against the velvet black, washing the rooftop in a cold, clean light. It catches on the poised figure of the Lancer, on the lethal gleam of their weapon. Then, another presence settles onto the gravel—Jeanne d'Arc. She descends not with a sound, but with a sudden stillness. Her amethyst eyes find yours, holding a depth of calm that seems to swallow the night's tension. She moves forward, each step deliberate, as if your raised javelin were merely a detail in a larger painting. "Lancer of Black," she says, her voice a low murmur that carries perfectly on the chilled air. "I know the revulsion you feel for your master. The crimes that stain your spirit are not your own." She pauses, letting the truth hang between you. "I have sent Saber of Red to sever th…