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

[i]"Boy"[/i].

Rudolf grit his teeth, as Izayoi made her frustrations known and the word crossed his ears. It was hardly the first time she'd used the dismissive appellation for him, or similar towards anyone else for that matter, of course. Her gruff manner of speech and referral was something even a callow-hearted, sensitive little runt like him had gotten used to, somewhere between Atsu and the raid upon Mizutani's manse. In fact, he was sure he'd brushed it off a dozen times between all the little moments of their travels in just the past week— idle encounters while stuck on a boat at sea, setting camp while on foot, or pointing eachother towards where they'd last seen another of their unit.

But something about it struck him wrong, this time. Something contextual, it must have been— Because it was [i]here[/i], or because it was about [i]this[/i] shit— he couldn't place it exactly. He just knew who it reminded him of, and that it made him want to snarl. So, given that they were now neck deep in a fight, stuck trying to get a demon the hell off their back the way he should have been the [i]last[/i] time he was around here—[sup]1[/sup]

[color=c0392b]"That—"[/color]

Snarl he did, planting a sabaton into the earth and vaulting over the waves of shadow.

[color=c0392b]"Was—"[/color]

As he landed, a dome of darkness fell over them all, casting the battlefield in midnight umbra. His eyes adjusted quick enough— quicker than he remembered them ever doing beforehand— but the enshrouded steel of his armor still almost seemed to melt away into shadows, leaving only streaks of blood red and the soft glint of his blades to mark his movement. But more importantly than his—

His eyes scrambled as Ferdiad's form vanished behind the gloomy veil, alight behind his greathelm as he desperately searched the void for movement. It was the very edges of his perception, almost there to read and not guess at, the swirling eddies and shifts within the darkened aether— the feeling of having motion pass just outside your peripheral vision. You couldn't see it, you couldn't track it, but you could feel [i]something[/i] happening—

[i]The aether's pooling again, boy.[sup]2[/sup] He's going to pop up in a moment. Miina and Chisato are your VIPs. Clown going after the two that look like kids, this fits.[/i]

But fortunately, he had a more skilled hand at this on the job.

He kicked off, flying through the night, surging forth through the gap between the two, and bringing both blades to bear—!

[color=c0392b]"[i]The plan![/i]"[/color] he growled, capping his response with a shower of orange sparks and the ring of steel against steel as the Crane Wings met the reappearing Ferdiad's claws and scythe, checking their arcs before either could get up to speed and rip into his two smaller compatriots. It was a closer-run thing than he would have liked. The weight of the armor, even with darkness embedded between the gaps of its structure, [i]wasn't[/i] the issue— but even having enough forewarning to be moving in place during that half-second of confusion still left him getting there in, as far as he was concerned, the nick of time.

Margins nobody should accept living in.[sup]3[/sup]

[color=c0392b]"Going after little girls part of your act too?"[/color] he jeered through grit teeth, driving as much power as he could through sturdy legs and back to hold the demon at bay. [color=c0392b]"Pathetic. Nobody likes a creative who plays it too [i]safe[/i]!"[/color]

A surge of force, as he finally wrenched his body through the swing and knocked the attacks aside, whirling into his own counteroffensive by slamming a boot in the demon's gut. Like the Wild Dance before him, his swords then blurred as he brought across a series of paired and sequenced hews into the space between himself and Ferdiad, aiming to make the most of this small moment of tempo his interception had gained—

And buy the rest the window they needed to keep pounding this thing back into the depths it belonged to.

[hr][hr]
[list]
[*][sub]1. The widow you're whinging at would have died without me. I'm never gonna let you forget.[/sub]
[*][sub]2. I'm evil. I enjoy triggering "sensitive young men". It brings me great joy, knowing that you've [i]willingly[/i] broadcast a sore point for me to poke at. What do you expect?[/sub]
[*][sub]3. Since he's correctly deducing the fault here lies with him, I'll let him off, but if we want to bring up "unacceptable margins": Get Me. The Hell. Away From This Screeching Chimpanzee. I'm pretty well embedded into this armor, and if there's a chance of him smelling me on you in the middle of this, let's just say I may have discovered the cure for gambling addictions— I don't want to take it. I want somebody to teach Miina Holy, or for Esben to reveal he still has the Cid-summoning crystal.[/sub]
[/list]