[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Sagramore[/color][/h3][/center] [@vietmyke][@Raineh Daze] His mind was a jumble, as the past few minutes jockeyed for dominance in sorting themselves out between Cid’s enlightening breakdown of the scope of their threat, the sudden appearance of the Revenant and Ifrit itself at the sage’s call, Primal Flame clashing with accursed steel… and then, once again, being flung to a faraway place, coated once more by sand. He grit his teeth, and planted the greatsword he’d drawn as a last desperate measure into the shifting dunes, finding a mode of purchase with some effort. He ignored the complaints roaring up from the knee in the brace, echoed in [i]sotto voce[/i] around much of the rest of his body— more important was the head count, making sure the Kirins had all made it out in one piece. Not that he lacked in any faith regarding the Greybeard’s ability or intent, but more… Well. In more than one way, the world had been upended over the past hour. It was selfish, but while he still had the desperate times and desperate measures as a shield… he needed to reaffirm his allegiances, his [i]usefulness[/i], before he was forced to lay all his cards on the table. [color=c0392b]“Them aside, it looks like he at least got everyone out,”[/color] he grunted his report to Galahad, stalking forward in an admirably disguised hobble as Eve took to the air further on. [color=c0392b]“I think Esben and Robin might both have taken a bump on the head, they seem pretty out of it, don’t know about Eliane…”[/color] They had all heard the same thing as him. They all knew now what the true consequences of turning one’s back on the light of Etro were. Was there a chance they would all focus on the revival of the man that trained Izayoi into the monster she was today? Always. But he couldn’t count on it. They’d all seen. He had accepted that he’d have to pay the piper sooner or later. Maybe it wouldn’t be now. But the truth was the same— He was on borrowed time. He [i]needed[/i] to prove— [color=c0392b]“Hn?”[/color] What he was unprepared to force out of his mind was the tingle beneath the skin that came between breaths, a cooling balm that quenched the angry flames, as a mass of fiber shifted, calmed, and began to reset. He looked down, and at the sight of the red coat, outstretched hands aglow with white magic, and stylishly wide-brimmed hat, seemed to slacken, as if caught. The foolishness of it all. [color=c0392b]“…Thanks, Miina.”[/color] he said, returning his gaze to the horizon, but staying still as she worked. You can’t get attention off of you, then… Say something. Be friendly. Don’t be ungrateful. Secrets are bad enough. The Kirins at least deserve that courtesy. [color=c0392b]“Hey, uh…”[/color] he began, searching for words that would do the impossible— clarify, ameliorate, silence doubts. Whether they were those he held, or those he knew they must have… [color=c0392b]“Sorry about working you so hard, dumping all this on your head with no warning. You did great out there, that was a good hit. We, uh…”[/color] Was there any difference? He couldn’t. He didn’t know how. He was adrift. Lamely, all he could do was finish, and be unconvinced he was doing anything productive. [color=c0392b]“We made a pretty good team. In my book. All things considered.”[/color] Mother Etro, just kill him.