[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230205/f69dd2f75b7475275d406e055ff4e99c.png[/img]
[color=537DAE][b]Mentions:[/b][/color]
[/center][hr]

Crimson dripped from the knuckles of his metal gauntlet, pieces of flesh stuck to the sharper angles. His chest moved up and down rapidly with heavy breathing, a mix of anxiety and exhaustion. Arton's teeth were clenched so hard that the muscles in his jaw had begun to ache. His iron grip on the collar of the Valheim soldier loosened and slumped to the ground motionless. Their face had been so ruthlessly bludgeoned that it would be near impossible to make out who it was. Warm blood flowed down the rough grooves carved into their face onto the stone pavement below. Arton had already moved on after confirming there was no signs of life.[color=537DAE]"Reisa...Reisa......Reisa."[/color] He muttered under his breath that faintly reeked of alcohol.

Arton continued throughout the back alleys of Kugane with a light but steady buzz. This was how he had spent the last few nights after returning back to the capital. The lump of metal and meat he left behind was the latest of his targets but once again he failed to gain any meaningful information. All he was left with was a deadly combination of alcohol and unaddressed rage in his blood. It felt like just another failure under his belt and the theory that Reisa could be in fact Furi was all the kept him grounded. This extreme turmoil that burned within him was why he had distanced himself from the rest of Team Kirin following the revelations at the Temple of Etro. 

It was a crisis of identity so he focused on the only thing he could be certain of: his feelings for Furi. Arton wiped the gore from his plated gauntlet with a rag and tossed it carelessly aside. He was now beginning to wonder if sharing that moment with Eliane had been wise. His back hit against a wall and he slowly lowered on the ground after getting a fair distance away from his last target. Arton unlatched a flask from his belt and took a long gulp of its potent contents. Otherwise bright, blue eyes stared grimly at the ground in front of him. Arton had never felt so lost in all of his years of wandering the land. What had he been living for all this time?

He was a disgace...to his parents, to Cyth, to Team Kirin, and himself. A fraud through and through. Nothing more than a glorified body shield. Arton's gaze slowly shifted from the dull ground towards the vibrant night sky above. He had never been a strong worshipper of the gods but, wallowing in his own despair, he couldn't help but send a silent prayer to Etro. A prayer for a small bit of the wisdom granted upon Cid. There was the same silence as the previous nights he had offered up his humble wishes. Arton screwed on the cap of his flask and attached it back on his belt with a heavy sigh suddenly disgusted with himself.

That night Arton stumbled back into the safehouse looking mentally drained, unable to keep up any of the cheerful pretense he typically held. Faint traces of blood had remained on his gauntlet. He retired without a word to anyone to his room and ensured that the door was locked. Arton shed the majority of his armor before moving towards a chest. His hands retrieved a tome he had acquired shortly after they returned to Kugane. It was tome of Etro's teachings and he hoped somewhere in its crisp pages to find answers.

[hr]

Arton stood towards the rear of the group as he wore the heaviest armor without additional means of movement such as Galahad. The dour expression he had worn the night prior was gone but he could not say he had shaken off the lingering doubts in his mind. He was more than happy to leave the planning to the others but he doubted they would be able to sneak in and remain undetected. Arton had already made considerable concessions regarding his armor but he was still far from light-footed. He shook his head at Miina's request for some rope [color=537DAE]"'Fraid not, sorry."[/color] He was certain, however, that he could easily climb the wall without it.

He could hardly believe what his eyes were seeing in the distance. His eyes were not the sharpest but even he couldn't deny that was Ciradyl approaching the front gate and simply walking inside. One of the gate guards even seemed to go with her, leaving behind just the one. His brain tried to reconcile what she had said earlier with what he was seeing now. Unlike himself, Ciradyl surely would have been a great help infiltrating the mansion. His gaze turned to Izayoi for any kind of clue how they should be reacting to this.