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Fire and destruction. Sundering the grail may have put an end to its mockery of justice, but it's unleashed the filth within to cause its own havoc. There's something more as well, a reverberation in the air, a feeling that is at once alien and familiar. An instability, an anomaly, an uncertainty that runs as deep as the world itself. Something terribly wrong, and terribly dangerous. If Kiritsugu wants to survive, he needs to run, now.
Emiya Kiritsugu runs away from his problems
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by-any-means-necessary
He nods.
At least this granted wish hasn't killed anyone.
He puts the figurine on his mantlepiece and rolls over, but his eyes are clearly still open.
Bran stays, as promised, sitting on the corner of the bed. He doesn't say anything, but his breath is quietly audible, steady and calm, and he radiates warmth, less powerfully than the hearth but still enough to be noticeable as it permeates the bedsheets.
When he wakes, Bran and the others will be downstairs making breakfast. Ira certainly will be excited to see Kiritsugu's Iris-doll, and if he's feeling up for it might ask him about her. Otherwise, the day will be...normal. Everyone's feeling good, all the clothes and tools are nice and clean and fresh. There's work to do, gathering wood, tending to the plants and chickens, the usual things, but it's nice, sometimes, to have just the usual things to do.
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