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Zoldyck
cosmiccowgirl
AubergineLamb
Blade17
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Cidolphus Escovane
Twenty Seven | 15, September | 6’0” | First Class
“They’re watching you die, and when you’re gone it’s like you weren’t even there…“
Aboard the Behemoth; near the border.
The knife flips in deft hands. A flick of his wrist, the blade flips rapidly in the air, snatched up by Cid’s quick, agile hands, a small rotation to adjust it in his hands, and again, it’s borne into the air. It was something he saw the guard doing, standing by the door, toying with a standard issue boot knife, much like the one Cid was flipping now. He watched the maneuver, memorized the motions of his hands and fingers, and by the time the blonde two rows up spoke, Cid had already mastered the skill. The blade glinted in the light, as the grip found itself into his palm again, and he tucked it back into its sheath inside his right boot. He had been observing the group, taking notes of who, and what, these people are. In his mind, they seemed rather ragtag, an odd decision by the elites, to send so many untried and seemingly mismatched individuals on a mission of, if President Rayne was to be believes, significant interest. Many of them had no significant fields experience, a lot of theory and training, with no practical expertise. A late addition would seem to confirm that the President at least was thinking along the same lines, but even that felt somewhat… off. Magdalena seemed particularly interested in the mission, in finding this traitor, why had she not come along then? Of course she was an elite, and perhaps he was simply misreading the mission, and the importance of it: could be this venture was simply beneath her… but the emotional tension between her and Rayne during the briefing, and the little gathering held in the aftermath told him otherwise.
But Cid wasn’t sure what to do about it, at least, not yet.
“My name is Cidolphus Escovane,” Cid spoke, leaning forward in his seat, placing his hands together before him, as though he were engaging himself in the conversation. His eyes met with those of the young, blond Saboteur, and for a moment he was weighing the reactions in those bi-colored eyes. Of course she knew what he was, having been identified by Magdalena at the meeting she held with the pair of them, but who he was, what he was capable of, that was still a mystery; as her capabilities were for him. She seems insignificant, too excitable and too light headed to be of any real significance, but earlier consideration of that fact has lead him to believe some hidden value lies within. He could play the part as well, be whatever he deemed needed… perhaps she was simply doing the same. His lips curled into a plain, simple grin. “The second saboteur.”
Then he fell silent, immediately disengaging from the conversation. He settled back into his seat again, pulled the boot knife back from its sheath, and resumed flipping. His eyes stared forward, lost somewhere between the twirling blade and the tip of his nose, as his attention recedes into his thoughts. They are young, inexperienced, new. There are so many of them, thus they are either walking into a force much larger than they were lead to believe, or the mission is to simply overwhelm the problem – hardly Soldier’s leading tactic. Perhaps they were something of an offering… lambs sent to slaughter. His mind circled around the possibilities, working hard on picking out the truth. He couldn’t operate of blind faith, couldn’t handle the fact that he was there simply because he was told to do so. He had to have understanding. Had to know why.
His eyes flecked to the blonde sparrow again.
And what of her decision? Will she protect the defect, or does she follow the President’s decree? If that should come to a head, which side of things would she be on? Was she even capable of making that decision yet? After all, Cid hasn’t come to his own conclusion. Magdalena meant little to him, but his interactions with her brought him more respect towards her than he had for Rayne. Were it to come to a decision, a picking of sides, of course, he would choose Magdalena. But his loyality to her wasn’t so iron clad that he’d risk an incident in which he was in opposition of a superior force of Soldiers. If that were to be the most likely outcome, than logic and common sense both dictate that he should bow to the President’s wishes. A decision Cid cannot make on the available information. He’d have to make it in the moment, and hope he doesn’t arrive at the conclusion too late.
He wanted to ask. Wanted to talk with her about it, at least to know what she was thinking, but that would mean revealing it to the others. That he decided he didn’t wish to do. Perhaps it would lead him to know earlier, but he didn’t expect honesty from them, nor should they expect it of him. He would be more at risk to receive a dagger in the back from a comrade, if it was known that this whole venture could possibly turn into an incident of friendly fire. After all, were he in their position, that’s exactly what he would do. Why gamble with trust, when eliminating the problem could ensure you aren’t betrayed.
Cid flipped the dagger again, and let his mind silence as he listened to the growling hum of the Behemoth.