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Greetings from the Other Side

The first thing you do once you set foot in the Wandeirng Sea is to plug your suitcase to the closest leyline.

It's a botched job, frankly speaking; you're no Da Vinci (and Da Vinci is no longer-) you're no Da Vinci, and those who do have technical knowledge are busy making themselves at home in this Novum Chaldea. You don't want to waste any more time however, so you set to do it yourself. The connection is unstable, the summons barely last a few minutes, but it's still a vast improvement from everything prior, so it will have to do.

Hello, you call to anyone who answers, sabers and riders and berserkers alike. Hello. Hello. I'm sorry I made you worry. I'm sorry it all cut off so suddenly. I'm okay. We're alive. I'm okay.

You don't have time to explain yourself fully. You don't have time to recall this entire story. All you can do is bring all your people in one by one, these people who fought for you, these people who witnessed you knee-deep in the snow of Russia, so obviously wanting to call out and talk to you but whose summon was undone the second the battle was done- all you can do is bring all your people in one by one, and tell them: hello. Hello. I'm sorry. I'm okay. I'll tell you everything soon. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you.

MissKraehe: I want to wrap this fic up in a blanket warm from the dryer and serve it hot cocoa. How utterly and absolutely lovely!