[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3]
[@Ithradine][/center]


True to his nature, by the time the team had settled into the aftermath enough for voices to raise within the retrieved lord’s chambers, Rudolf had already long made himself scarce. No matter how heartfelt the thanks from Hien might have been, no matter how used to Izayoi he might have been getting, he was certain that the last thing either of them needed was an uppity Edreni kid anywhere near that business of theirs. 

He’d already ignored his survival instincts not to touch a situation enough for one lifetime, and pissed off enough higher authority for two. He’d take the chances he got to heed them. No thank you! Not with a ten foot pole!

He’d thusly retreated to the interior of the room prepared for him, keen on finally getting a chance to [i]breathe[/i] and [i]settle[/i] and, importantly, [i]review[/i]. This was a hell of an eventful day to get straight in the head, to say less of the week that it had capped off. His traveling armor had no business being on him in the breakout, taking too long to don, and had been collected and settled in a disorganized heap at his bedside by Ciradyl’s agents. He’d worry about it later. Instead, he would turn his hands towards the meditative work he favored most. He shoved the bedding off to the side with a grunt, working through a couple orientations before finally realizing he could stand it against the wall.

He laid out seven lines of steel on the tatami, blooming out from a central point upon which he sat, cross-legged, and laid his palms upon the crossguard of each in turn, seven prayers to Himstus on his lips. One by one, he held their flats to his brow, meeting mind and blade.

Then he took hold of his blade oil, whetstones, and minor acid— and began the work of simple repetition, cleaning away blood, away grime, away dust, away nicks, away the swirling nerves of the nightmare they’d raced through. He was indelibly a Kirin now, wanted by their assumed priority targets, sharing sweat and blood with everyone else upon this mission. It brought him small comfort.

Greater comfort came in honing, where the concentration took over.

…

Some time, a quick wash, and a few bandages upon his palms later, and Rudolf was milling through the compound’s halls again, clad his understated casual attire. If at all possible, he still intended to give every Ospreyan that he was certain hated him a wide berth— but there was one who at least seemed able to mask it perfectly, assuming she shared the opinion.

It helped twice over that she was the boss of the operation, who was probably going to need to sign off on his request to begin with. Locked down as their group was, his hands were pretty tied unless he fancied his chances of sneaking out of the compound undetected, staying unaccosted while he was out, and not being detected and traced in his return.

[color=c0392b][i]That’s so much pressure![/i][/color]

After Izayoi had sniffed him out without much trouble already, Rudolf knew when he had to respect his own limits.

Luckily, even though they all had space for accommodation between themselves, Lord Hien, and her staff on call, there was no getting around this safehouse fundamentally being a fishbowl. Nowhere near the amount of nooks and crannies to hide in as a proper keep.

[color=c0392b]“Lady Ciradyl.”[/color] he said, finally catching sight of the statuesque frame and snowy ponytail after maybe a dozen minutes’ search and flagging her down. [color=c0392b]“I’ve got a favor to ask, if you can hear me out for a minute.”[/color]