[@SSW] [@Yankee] [@Gracefully]

[h3]Overlooking a Flow. District V[/h3]

A man walked out of the streets, all that could be seen of his face that was covered by a hood whiter than the snow extending from his robes being the frown of the frail. Thin lips and pale, pale skin were silent as he looked upon her and found what he was looking for.

The air of someone confident, who believed themselves great. Beyond that it was the presence of those who believed themselves able. Talent was one thing, but the ability to do at all, to be capable… It was the simplest of things, denied to him and perhaps him alone

A man may dream of flying like a bird, but such a fantasy to a land-dwelling creature was different from the bitterness of a bird born with featherless wings.. There was no need to talk. That’s what he thought as he gave Rider a simple command. “Win.”

His hand ran through his sleeve and swiped forth, a fan of steel forming in the grip of his knuckles even as one bullet flew forth. He did not have the sheer physical power of the knights of the Church, but such techniques were readily shared with the Lacrignoia. Battle was known, if only for at least the purpose of knowing how to be the director of knights. 

A Black Key of Providence, one of the weapons of the Christian Church’s hidden side. An obscure strange weapon hardly popular among the members of vampire-hunters. It was not the first thing to think of when one considered a mage hunter, yet… Well, it didn’t matter. As a foreigner from the east he wouldn’t be surprised if she was ignorant to any of these tools, or their meaning. Now would they accept the attack and deal with it themselves, or would the servant act?... with or without the recognition or permission of their master? Their personalities, their means, both could be gleaned by a simple throw. His clairvoyance activated, Lauchme ready to take in all the information that he can from the caster.

“Meaningless chatter.” he dismissed her words. Why should he not? She clearly held no interest in them to begin with. It was never his role to give interest and meaning to something that others couldn’t bother to present to him as meaningful  A story held only the most scandalous or greatest parts of a life after all. Humans didn’t need to live, they simply needed to give birth to stories. Or rather, a human that cannot give birth to stories was not living at all.

His shadow stood with him as he broke away from Rider, fan of blades numbering three. He was not so far that anything in the league of Rider could not be intercepted. His speed was barely faster than a normal human, both to preserve his strength and bait out the opponent… Is what he’d like to say, but it was more than his limits in purely his mundane means. So it was more importantly a matter of preserving his strength as he moved closer to the streets that led into the city like veins.

The snow was a prison of flow, water and earth, wet and cold. A fact that he took in as a consideration as a potential way that the enemy may alter their tactics. Or more importantly, a element that he could utilize to foil them. Just in case he began to speak an incantation.

Perhaps she is a monster that knew even more than he did. Perhaps she the a monster that he should be the most envious of. He did not need the grail to tell him that he was the lowest of them all.. Save for a fluke perhaps. Perhaps a spare was prepared as the eighth that had no ability whatsoever. An absolutely normal bystander dragged in. But he would have no mercy for such an individual as well.

So which number were you?

Come and show me.