[center][h3][color=C0392B]Rudolf Shilage[/color][/h3][/center]

[color=c0392b]"[i]Very[/i] cold, Miina."[/color]

So [i]that[/i] was why he'd felt a familiar chill enter the room at the back of his neck, while he was too busy fuming over his barely-laid plans being scuttled— and in what felt like an instant, his protestations, his burgeoning courage, everything he had been trying to build to beneath the surface had ample cause to be quietly set aside for... some point later. What he had been hoping to say had to come soon, before the Kirins crossed the border if nothing else. If he entered Skael with those words still locked beneath his chest... well, now more than ever, he doubted he'd ever dredge them up.[sup]1[/sup] Be it due to a faltering resolve, or this brand new crisis that the familiar blonde had brought to the table. He swirled the wine in his glass, a Crandori Red that for all the world tasted of spiced cherries and blood as it warmed the back of his throat in a long, calming pull.

[color=c0392b]"At least as cold as Osprey was warm, and that's before the wind. They say Skael's sharpest knives lie not in the hands of its warriors, but instead pass between drifts, pines, glaciers, cutting men unlucky enough to get caught in the gust to the bone."[/color]

His copper-coated eyes flicked between the Earl at the head of the table and the interloping spymaster, unable to fully keep the wary, brusque grimace out of their depths in spite of a growingly dismissive affectation, the type that he always wore when playing along with "knowing nothing of what he just heard". For many, the task would be easy on the latter front she mentioned, save her two subordinates. that'd be all well and good and expected.

But, in a twist of fate, Rudolf's case was... a little more complicated.

He cleared his throat.

[color=c0392b]"I doubt a [i]SEED Director[/i] would embellish details like that if one were around, but I remember hearing a lot about Skael in my youth from when my 'Aunt Kayla' came by to visit when I was, what? Eight? I'm bound to get certain bits about the place turned around."[/color]

Given the circumstances, mentioning the old assumed identity off-handedly was just about all Rudolf could do to satisfy his urge to grill her about deceiving him back when he was still just a snot-nosed kid[sup]2[/sup]— though hindsight was hardly kind to him, now that he had its benefits. A mysterious woman from the south that he'd only met once, and then primarily existed in their household as fuel for what were basically spooky stories to keep him and his brothers in line; to anybody that would ever stop and think about it once they'd grown up a little more, obviously "Aunt Kayla" was a [i]questionable[/i] identity at best.

But they all had bigger fish to fry, now. His indignation and surprise wouldn't just be unbecoming, they'd be downright obstructive.[sup]3[/sup]

They were bound to have their fill of obstructions before they knew it.

He speared a roast potato with a fork, eyeing her, trying to make a mental note of all the questions he had burning at the back of his head that [i]weren't[/i] immediately helpful before filtering out the ones that were. Why she knew Cadmon and his father. How long she had been at this habit of dropping in that none of the servants seemed particularly ruffled by her sudden ingress from the boundaries. So on.

He let the breezy indulgence in the bit fall from his face.

[color=c0392b]"... Speaking of Wind, then: Would we be correct to presume that because Solitude is our only mode of access to the temple, there's no necessary way you're able to tell if the Crystal is compromised as well? Beyond the presumable chaos it would throw the elements into, despoiling of the land, and so on— no direct observation, just praying we don't see those consequential symptoms?"[/color]

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[*][sub]1. Nothing ever happens.[/sub]
[*][sub]2. Do I even need to say it, audience?[/sub]
[*][sub]3. Hypocritical as well. Moreso, even— Director Lambert here was telling a child a white lie so as to not reveal to him any of the grisly details of her true profession, to keep both of their lives out of danger— whereas my charming and rock-brained host is just having a fight with dear old Dad, and stealing valor from a warrior-shaman culture he's only spent half a decade LARPing as.[/sub]
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