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

Much as he might have liked to partake in the discussion blossoming forth around the Blight, High Caretaker Cid, and the broader mechanics at play regarding their quest, young man Rudi found himself concerned with more basic issues.

[i][color=c0392b]“khhahk—kaff—“[/color][/i]

His breathing was already ragged as the adrenaline of the fight left his body, but as he’d rolled over to his hands and knees once they made landfall, he’d discovered wetness and burn on his throat, and clearing it out revealed pinpricks of crimson in the low light of the chamber. 

Gingerly, he held a hand to his adam’s apple, tested a deep and slow breath cycle, then a swallow—

And winced as a needle drove itself through the base of his neck. Right about where the shield’s name had erupted out from him, if he had to guess. Not fun, talking wasn’t gonna be fun at all if they expected more than a whisper.

And as luck would have it…

[color=c0392b][i]What’s the damage?[/i][/color]

Silence on the other end of the line. Tuckered out after the power draw. Useless bastard…

His head was swimming, but after that display, he knew he was gonna have a lot to answer for.

He needed to take this moment where he had it and get things straight on his own. While Eve laid down the state of affairs of the Kirins, Rudolf set his mind to disentangling the minute that had just passed, regardless of fatigue.

He’d gotten there in time, given that Izayoi was not only still breathing, but able to sit up and talk, getting this conversation with Cid started in the first place. Good… After that, though?

It had been close. Way too close. He’d bought everybody a moment by arresting the thing’s momentum in the first place, Svalinn managing to hold back Ame-no-Habakiri where he knew any of his fighting blades would fail. He’d bought a second, technically, with the surprise of that moment… but it wasn’t going to last.

As his memory began to clear, he could see the shield of darkness begin to crack as the Revenant had begun to press in anew. He could feel the phantoms of the tenebrous magic beginning to strain against the strength, the weight, the miraculous cutting edge…

He gazed at his quaking palm, no longer host to black flames that felt like a leaden weight. Scuffed, pale, and scarred aplenty, he had little doubt that all the training in the world that the Sagramori could have toughened him up with wouldn’t have mattered against the sword splitting him down the middle. 

He gulped down iron, salt, and sand, and tried to keep his breath steady as that sank in.

The others hadn’t sprung into action a moment too soon. Miina clearly had to have healed Izayoi while he defended her… Galahad’s orders had reached his ears all but a second afterward. With them, the swell of a spectral orchestra. He’d felt his muscles redouble in vigor, but the magic in turn was leaving him—

And as the attacks of the Kirins hit, Arton had been there, pulling its attention in the crucial moments after it had caught Galahad’s halberd upon its blade, abandoning the push through to Rudolf wholly. That was right. With Izayoi and Miina behind the scenes, Ciradyl’s song bolstering their ability, and Robin and Elly sailing in from the side, going for the major arteries of the armpit, he’d also tried to join the fray… What about Esben? He’d lost track of the Skaeller Agent after the Dance.

[color=c0392b]“…Did everyone make it—“[/color]

The gloomy young man pulled himself to his feet, trying to project as much as he could with the torn throat, with the fear of bringing their eyes onto him— 

[color=c0392b][i]—Nrgh!—[/i][/color]

And staggered back to the floor, brutally made aware now of the fact that his right knee felt like it was made of molten glass. That was right, he’d felt something go in that initial burst of speed. That was structural… The joint of his knee? One of the major ligaments? How had he stood at all for Svalinn, then..? How had he tried to circle around from the blind spot Arton’s strong frame had made?

[right][i]A thousand black knives as he set off, like nailing something loose back into place. Now was now, later would come later. Reconnect by hook or by crook.[/i][/right]

…

Eve’s stone fist had gotten there first. Then… the world had erupted. 

First into force. 

Then, to flame and thunder. 

Finally… vertigo.

And then they were here.

He glanced around where he sat, taking in the temple, taking in the faint filaments of sunlight from high above, and taking in the Kirins, all strewn about around him, Cid the Greybeard at the fore.

[color=c0392b]“…Where… [i]are[/i] we?”[/color]