[h2][center][color=007236]Alex Bradan[/color][/center][/h2]
[h3][center]The Church[/center][/h3]
[hr]

The old astrologer contemplated Ruler answer, and found he didn't like it. Making his way over land with no Servant through a strange city to claim sanctuary at a stationary point which his pursuers would know ahead of time... it sounded more like a foxhunt for the Clocktower aristocrats than an opportunity to surrender. That Ruler thought it unlikely anyone would pursue him far beyond the city was enough to make his conclusion definitive.

Before Ruler could finish however, they were interrupted by the approach of a surge of prana, no doubt a Servant. Before he could react himself, Archer was already moving, sweeping him aside and away from the direct path of the oncoming Servant. 

Alex dropped his cigaret, focused on the doors they had just entered through, and reached instinctively for his gun, incantations beginning to formulate themselves in his mind. Usually he could tell instinctively which would serve him better, the bullet or the Aria, but he realized with alarm that he wasn't really sure in this case. A gun would be useless against a fleshless spirit, but against something swirling so thickly with prana most of his spells would be nearly as inconsequential. 

He began to contemplate some of his more nasty curses, unpleasant things which he rarely used, when suddenly the tension in the room was undercut by a soft knocking. 

Not entirely convinced, with as much depression as was possible, Alex began to take further steps back into the pews, and to reinforce his legs. 

[color=007236][i]Archer, if this gets ugly, be ready to go. Cover my retreat. If you can, aid Ruler, but don't make it a priority. [/i][/color]

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[@Moonlit Sonata] [@Cu Chulainn]